Nearing the 8 month mark

Ennui ennui ennui. Apologies for lack of updates. I'm simply a stress-face and not terribly witty at the moment. Also, I'm fairly sure that I've forgotten how to do much of anything clever in English.

Here is what I know how to say:

'Please put the pencil on the table.'
'If you do that again, I will be very angry.'
'Please don't make me want to cry.'
'Please don't fart on me.' (this happened yesterday. Goddamnit, Alex.)
'Let's write this together, okay?'

A very important thing, though! After 8 months of silence, I managed to accidentally set off an alarm at Starus Building! Sweet! When they installed the security doors on the 1st floor, there was a note indicating that apartment-dwellers would be able to buzz people in. I assumed this was perhaps done by hitting the big red flashing button on my weird-doorbell-video-wall apparatus. This was incorrect, and soon I had a random ajosshi and a security fella in my apartment, trying to explain how to re-install the battery pack for my door security keypad, and me trying to explain that I took it off on purpose because the metal is corroded and it makes weird noises like Aphex Twin barfing and I have a perfectly viable key, thank you.

Subway: The Blog

A lot of interesting or semi-interesting things go down on the Seoul Metro.

For instance, there are salespeople on trains. Usually ajumma or ajosshi and interestingly dressed, they wheel around a little cart full of 1,000 - 2,000 won items. These items tend to be: Xylitol gum, drain uncloggers, workout armband thingies, pens, scrubbers, and insoles.

There are some outliers, though. The most obnoxious salesperson (who happened to come around after my iPod battery died) was selling a Best of the '90s easy listening CD. The pitch? Wheel in a boom box and play 10 minutes of the CD, quite loud, for all to hear. I was surrounded by people equally unhappy as I, which softened the blow slightly.

However, last Sunday was apparently a popular day for sellin' stuff. It was 8:15 AM, dreary and sideways-raining, and the whole train smelled of wet commuter, sitting and trying to keep to his or her self. In walks a salesperson with their cart. They were selling a little knife sharpener stone. Keep your pointies fresh! and all that. I thought to myself, 'Alright, who in their right mind would be keen on buying a knife sharpener in the early morning on a day such as today?'. However, my finger is clearly not on the pulse of the average Seoul Metro rider. Five people paid up and bought the thing within a few minutes.

Next to me sat an ajosshi, listening to his headphones. He held out a 1,000 won bill and got his knife sharpener. He then proceeded to whip out a fairly large and menacing hunting knife, and sharpen in the entire way down the Bundang line for about 25 minutes. In New York, such a sight would send me fleeing to the opposite end of the train. But it's Korea, so I sat and listened to my Animal Collective and thumb-twiddled, quite unafraid.

One step forward, two steps back.

I had the good fortune the other day of stepping onto the Seoul Metro into a train that, quite literally, still had its new car smell. It was a little leathery and overwhelmingly clean. The seats were stained with absolutely nothing, a bit cushy, and had the classic color scheme of gray and yellow.

However, this was no ordinary new subway car. It was quite clearly a CAR OF THE FUTURE. Check out the picture above. This is the panel above one of the doors to the train, with a shiny new video screen in it. Now, I remember first being impressed by video screens on trains... 5 years ago, on the Yamanote Line in Tokyo. Here was a screen that let me know the weather, the entire route that the train was gonna take, any potential delays nearby, and length of time to the next station in both English and Japanese.

This video screen, though? What you see above is what you get. The station you're going to is displayed nice and big on the center of the screen, with your previous station on your left and the next-next station on the right. The name of the station you're hurtling toward fades between its name in Korean and English. That's it. No other pertinent information other than, oh hey, you're on a train, a-goin' this way.

So, I'm not entirely positive why the Seoul Metro found installing these screens to be a good idea. In fact, I find it a pretty poor idea. Where these screens now sit, there used to be maps of the entire subway system, and maps of the line you're currently on. If you're sitting on one of these new trains, wondering, 'Gee, I wonder how many stops until my destination?' or 'Crudmuffins, where do I transfer again?' or 'O GOD AM I ANYWHERE NEAR WHERE I MEAN TO BE?!', you're crap out of luck. Hopefully, you've got a copy of the map handy, and no need to second-guess yourself. All of the maps are gone out of the car entirely, to be replaced by the future of subways: even more confusion.

They went ahead and made my day accordingly

Lucy: Teacher, what is today?
Me: It's Friday.
Lucy: So tomorrow is... Saturday?
Me: Yes, Lucy, that's right. Aren't you excited?
Lucy: Awwww, no.
Me: What, why?
Lucy: On Saturday I don't come in the school and no English class. So, I sad.
Chloe: Me too!
Sally: Me too!
Dora: Me too!

It may have been a direct response to me being grumpy at their inability to eat lunch within a 45-minute span of time, but regardless, d'yawwwwwwwwwww.

Magical powers

If Korea has taught me anything, it is to appreciate food. Like, I had apple pie the other day, and it was the first pie I'd had since arriving in the country. Normally, I would've scoffed at such a treat, store-bought and nowhere near crisp (my preferred mode of pie, naturally). However, the sugar-coated dough melted with the gooey appley stuff in such a way that I thought, 'My GOD, this is how one oughta spend a July 4th'.

Sources indicate that the moment I eat a really delicious pie, my heart will explode with excitement and I will keel over then and there.

Amongst the kids in a whole new setting

Before Phil departed Korea for 'merica-land, we had the opportunity to visit Everland Resort, Korea's biggest (and pretty much only) major amusement park. There are other smaller parks in the country, to be sure, but this is the only one complete with themed areas, a water park, a big old hotel, and all the trappings of a comparable park elsewhere in the world. Some observations:

Not for thrill-seekers - The park had a whopping one roller coaster running when we visited out of a possible three. The roller coaster I had been most excited about, a suspended terrain coaster called Eagle Fortress, was closed for "refurbishment" according to signs on the loading station, but it had been suspiciously taken off the map. The second closed roller coaster, Rolling X-Train, was a kind of take-it-or-leave it ride, but it was being inspected. For months. Yeah, it takes awhile, I guess? Anyway, that left T-Express, which is a very solid wooden roller coaster, and the steepest coaster in the world. It is apparently also the tallest roller coaster in Korea, which at 170-ish feet kinda makes one pause. It's a hoot and a half, though. Very smooth and enjoyable, even though I wasn't allowed to wear my glasses. If you've got to name your roller coaster after an evil monolith of a company, might as well make it good, right?

Repetitive Stress Injuries - Bafflingly, all employees at Everland have to wave their hands at you at all times. If you know what deaf people clapping looks like, it is pretty much the same thing. Always. At varying degrees of enthusiasm and effectiveness. I really don't get it at all. It's not a wave, they're not beckoning to you to try Dippin Dots for freaking $1.50 (~~~~), they're just doing it. Like a tic or something. Maybe it's a cultural difference.

It's a Small World, After All - so, I ran into one of my students at the park. I was with Phil, and we were sweating buckets and I'm sure I looked kind of like crap, but the kid hasn't quit yet, so I guess I didn't spook her too badly. Still, how do the fates align that myself and young Sally happen to be at Everland, in Holland Village, at the same exact time? Probably because it is the only amusement park in Korea. Right.

Did I mention they have Dippin Dots for $1.50 - because it is kind of awesome.

The Zoo - They have at Everland the world's "only mixed zoo", as in they toss lions and bears and fennec foxes and tigers into the same overly-small habitat. Is it depressing? Yes, yes it is. Are the animals cute? Yes, yes they are. They had several tiny cages of cockatiels and I wanted to be their friends pretty badly. I benefitted from this lack of animal care, however, because I got to pet a lion cub. He was fuzzy.

Also, rafting - Nobody prolly cares, but I was fascinated by the vehicles on their river rafting ride. You got a giant plastic cover that renders your body pretty much un-soakable, and also, the raft has joints in it. No, not that kinda joints, alas. It's hard to explain, but each seat is on its own slice of the round pizza, and the pizza can flex when it goes over the rapids so it's not so rough and... anyway, this analogy is flawed, but it was cool, okay?

Good movie, bad movie, worse movie

I have seen three bits of cinema recently, and have had mixed results in attempts to enjoy said cinema. The results of my extensive trials:
Good Movie - "Mother": Though I've complained about my inability to see "Bakjui", the Seoul Metropolitan Government's subtitle program allowed me to see the latest movie from the dude who made "The Host". The trailer for it is utter dreck, and kind of put me off from seeing it, plus the fact that this film was a chart-topper, usually entailing that is just as dreck-y as the trailer; but no! it was actually pretty good. It's about an attractive but mentally handicapped young man who is framed for murder, and the quest of his crazed ajumma mom to get him out of jail. Seriously, this lady is nuts. I was a little scared of all the middle-aged women I saw on the street for a few days after seeing this. The film itself is a bit long, but it's a pretty good thriller, and has a nice number of twists n' turns to keep a viewer guessing. Of course, I spent a great time wondering what exactly was wrong with the son, mentally, but he fell under the Korean cultural umbrella of "the boy ain't right".

Bad Movie - "Transformers: Revenge of Whatever The Hell the Plot Is": Seriously, what. I don't... understand what happened. Why did the mom wig out after eating a pot brownie? Why did the little robot hump the hot chick's leg? Why is there a giant field behind the Air and Space Museum? Is it okay if I blow up the pyramids, too? The effects were pretty grand, but that is about all this film had going for it. Also: LINKIN PARK NOOOOOOOO.

Worse Movie - "Night at the Museum 2": I pretty much ask all the same questions of this film that I did of "Transformers", and plus the effects aren't even all that good in this one. Plus, did you know it's possible to fly an antique airplane from NYC to Washington, DC and back again within an hour, and it's cool to land it in the street, because nobody is awake in those cities at night? The mind boggles.

Apologies on radio silence / genital area

Esteemed sirs and madams:

I apologize for my lack of updates, but you see, there are two factors working against me here:

1) Blogger has not been loading properly for about a week and a half now, and
2) I am playing host to a Philip Ramge on top of the workin' and all, which is, as one might, assume a full-time job plus some.

However, rest assured, updates will be coming soon.

For now, ponder this fact, really for females only. I accidentally bought the mythical 'scented' menstural pads. Like, I figured they were something relegated to the history books, where it feels like you're making a choice, but really, there are only unleaded gasoline, unscented pads and food without MSG. Yet, here they are, on my shelf. Herb-scented. Like, I don't know how bad peoples' not-so-fresh feelings get, but would you rather you smell like rotisserie chicken? Agh, vile. Thank you a dozen times over, Korea, for this opportunity.

Kill whitey, or at least make her feel vaguely uncomfortable at all times

So, this blog is not meant to be a blog for kvetching, but sometimes, that's what it's gotta be. Mood - sad. Music - Bright Eyes. Well, just kidding on the Bright Eyes part, I have more self-respect than that. The scoop is, work's gotten pretty unpleasant. I work with a bunch of passive-aggressive Korean ladies who apparently aren't very fond of the foreigners, but instead of actually addressing the issue like sane people, they'd rather slink around, avoid eye contact, and talk quite blatantly about us in Korean.

Did you know that foreigners, pretty universally, are intimidating and hard to work with? That we get angry at inappropriate times? That we're on a path toward becoming Satan incarnate?

This is the impression that they have of me. Now, dear readers, imagine me getting really, really angry to the point that you're scared. And then laugh, because it is a ridiculous image that has no place in the real world.

That's been the theme of the past few weeks, so I decided to treat myself to a Friday screening of 'Terminator: Salvation' (yes, I know it's a bad film, but I've already seen 'Star Trek' twice, so gimme a break). Some stuff blowing up sounds okay. A little Skynet, a little that chick from 'Firefly'. However, upon arriving to my assigned seat, I was treated to the other reaction to foreigners here: utter amusement and staring. I sat next to three boys, no older than 13, not a parent in sight. The second I walked past these kids, they started saying in no quiet tone, "Ah! Waegukin itda! Waegukin itda!" (It's a foreigner! It's a foreigner!!), laughing like I'd just farted really loud, staring like I had giant wings on my back. And there were fifteen minutes until the show. Sweet. So I looked at my cell phone (cue 13-year-old necks craning to see how a foreigner could even operate a Korean phone!), read a book (HOLY CRAP ENGLISH!!), listened to my iPod (why is it not an iRiver or Cowon!!), until finally the lights dimmed and the film started.

What is confusing to me is why these kids were so enamored with a foreign person sitting next to them, when they're watching a film in English, starring largely white people. Seriously, what in the blazes.

Anyway, this too shall pass, right?

Choley moley

We got a new Korean English teacher this week, who is, for lack of a better descriptor, acceptable. Kind of obnoxious. Questionable voice. Decent at English, I guess.

There is one major problem with her, and that is her name: Chole.

No, that is not a typo of 'Chloe', as I assumed it was when my boss tried to ask me how to pronounce the English name 'C-H-O-L-E'. I told her that she probably ought to e-mail this chick, get her to clarify if she meant Chloe, or if she was totally off-base and drunk and e-mailed her name completely wrong.

But in walks this girl on Thursday, cheerful, all, "Hello, my name is Chole." In my mind, very mature, I instantly think of 'troll' or 'chode', or most expediently 'troll chode'. I can't say her name to her face, or really to anybody in any context, for that matter.

And I'm not just being a total douche here, making fun of someone for an obscure name. The Internet, Pinnacle of Truth, tells me that 'Chole' is not a name. One site says it is sometimes a nickname of 'Nichole', which could make it's pronunciation 'cole', even if it were a name, which six other databases feel it is not.

I have taken to calling her Voldemort, as in, there is no fucking way I am saying her name in everyday discourse, because something bad will happen. Choledemort. Oy vey, these teachers.

Subtle Korean comedy

Made even more frightening by the many references to this whimsical, witty, and tasteful sketch that my students throw at me each day. Homophobic? Dumb? You decide!

The budding synesthete

"My name smells very good."

-Lucy H.

Sometimes life is pretty okay

I BEAT THE COMPUTER AT STARCRAFT TODAY! YES! PROGRESS IS BEING MADE!

Now admittedly, it was two people and a computer player vs. two computer players, BUT STILL. I didn't get my ass handed to me in the first five minutes. It felt worth mentioning as a point of personal growth, right up there with learning to walk and realizing that feta cheese is really good stuff.

Just, seriously, so sparkling. Really.

So, today during one of my afterschool classes, I was handed back a signed report card. We had to do report cards for all of our elementary students, which I actually spent time and thought on. The kids who did well did well, and the kids who did poorly might've received less-than-the-best grades, but with thoughtful explanations.

The report card I was handed back today was in the grumpy, non-cooperative little hands of one of my worst students, who responds to questions with a "hmph" and crossed arms. I've taught her since day once. She still asks "Teacher, what?" to any collection of syllables that might spill out of my mouth. Zero progess for sure.

Imagine my surprise when I opened up her report card to find a string of 4's out of 5's. I sure as hell didn't give her those.

In short: Grades that I put on a report card were changed and bumped way up because they were scared of a parent withdrawing their student from the school. The owner of the school and the head Korean teacher just did this without asking me, or even letting me know it was going to happen. It was assumed I wouldn't find out.

Now, thankfully, I bought a very cute Little Big Planet T-shirt for myself at Uniqlo last weekend. I taught the kids the word "sackboy" while wearing it today, and enjoyed them parroting the word back to me ("I love your sackboy!" "He is a happy sackboy on a little planet!" "What is a sack?"), and that prevented me from completely losing my collectedness.

Most business owners, when confronted with what boils down to falsifying paperwork, do a few things. If they're American business owners, they deny it until the economy blows up. If they're Japanese, they kill themselves. If they're Korean, they call me into a conference with the other teacher who decided this'd be a good idea, throw about the word "cultural difference" like that excuses their behavior, and then cry about it in the kitchen after hugging me for five minutes and apologizing.

This marks a sea change for me, which blows a bit, considering I've been here for only five months. They don't respect me? Then hoo boy, I'm not gonna respect them right back. Time to get my lazy on just a bit.

Cinema, cinema

If all were well and good with the universe, this would be a review of the new Chanwook Park movie, "Bakjui", or "Thirst". It's about sexy vampires and Africa and infidelity, I think.

See, the Seoul Metropolitan Government announced last month plans to release some Korean films with English subtitles the same week that they are released to the public in general here. This was meant to give Korean films a little time in the limelight, to show how great Korean cultural things can be, etc. etc.

Of course, less than a month after this wonderful new program was announced (with 'Bakjui' in its lineup), they've already pooched it, and in regards to the one film I'd like to see, no less. 'Bakjui' made it to Cannes, I think, and instead of showing it with subs, they have "My Girlfriend is an Agent"? Which they've had for the past 3 weeks? Also, it looks kinda dumb?

I'd really like to give this nice bit of Korea a chance, considering I'm rapidly becoming one of those passively grumbly foreigners, but my money will go to 'Star Trek' this weekend instead.

Sucks! (your blood, that is. olollolololol)

Sometimes I wonder if these kids are getting it

During a conversation test:

Me: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

(45-second pause)

Student, who is around 10 years old mind you: "Clock."

Me: "Clock?"

Student: "...Apple?"

The other teacher in the room looks horrified and stares at me, as if, in being a native speaker, I can mind-meld with this student and tell her the error of her ways.

Me: "Write it down. She wants to be a clock-apple. Next question."

Not unlike a good cheese

One of the more terrifying aspects of my stay in Korea this far must be the level of stress. Like, I understand that being in a place where one doesn't speak the language, doesn't really know a whole lot of folks, and being surrounded by six-year-olds to be wrangled all day would tend to raise blood pressure a little bit.

But it's kind of freaky that I'm getting wrinkles. Real-life ones, out of nowhere, kinda suddenly. First, they spread across my forehead like those neat-looking streaks on sand dunes, except I suppose not-so-neat-looking in this case. Also, it was revealed yesterday that I have crows' feet. Being intoxicated at the time, I didn't believe such hogwash, but a quick peek in the mirror revealed WHAT WHY AM I OLD OVERNIGHT.

Now, I suppose I could start flipping out, applying makeup and eyeliner and dressing to distract attention from my face (like that'd ever happen in the first place, here), but I am still just marveling at it. There was some tough stuff going on back home that I didn't react physically to, but I'm being defeated by elementary school kids? Dayumn. gg, Kinder Liebe.

Complete genius.

Something which I have learned very recently, which makes me think sometimes Korea really has it right: Every cell phone here uses the same exact charger and the same exact plug. As in, say you are out in Seoul for the night and your phone is dying, but oh crap, your charger is back in Busan or something, you can just borrow your friend's charger. It is that easy. INCREDIBLE.

The Quotable Lucy H.

"Odeng (fish cake) is people!"

"You are happy because I am very quiet, very listening, and so well at English, too!"

"Don't talk so big!"

"Teacher, what is 'for the love of all that is good in the world'?"

"I am sad, because Kevin B said I am poop, but I am not poop."

"I am very very fun!"

Cherry Blossoms continued

So, I saw a really dumb movie today, entitled something like 'Kirschbluten - Hanami', or 'Saranghue, um, uh....' because the lady at the ticket counter didn't know the romanized version of the title that was all over the theater, and I couldn't read the Korean title fast enough while the showtime info scrolled. The poster:
Anyway, I kind of figured that it'd be a nice language test for me, as it is largely in German with a little English and Japanese sprinkled in for good measure. Unfortunately, the print has apparently been touring the country for 30 years now, with an image that kept jumping around, moving in and out of focus, and a soundtrack that was garbled and bass-y. I still managed to get most of it, I think.

The thrilling plot: There is an old German couple, and the dude is dying. They go to visit their grown kids, who are all douches. The lesbian lover of their daughter is the only non-douche, who takes the old German wife to a mysterious Japanese dance called 'butoh'. So, then the wife dies for some reason. The old husband wigs out and goes to Japan to visit his son, who has a swank place in Shinjuku with a Sharp TV (what!), hentai comics, and lots of isolation. Surprise, Japan is scary and weird if you're foreign! The old German guy ends up in Kabuki-cho at a soapland, lathered up by two horse-faced Japanese prostitutes, until he cries. He is kinda sad, and his son is also a jerk, so he wanders around wearing his wife's clothing and being generally bizzarre. Then one day, he meets a chick who is pretty much Bjork, and they talk about nonsensical things in broken English. Also, they butoh-dance together. Bjork and the old guy go to Mt. Fuji, where the old guy butoh-dances with his dead wife, and then he dies, too. Roll credits.

I really wanted to like this movie. Really, I did. It was supposed to be pretty okay, if critics are to be believed. But it suffered from the curse known as 'being helmed by a female director', and also it appeared to be shot in HDV or something. It was very 'Lost in Translation'-esque, and I am wondering if being in Korea for awhile has made me less tolerant of Western stories which make the East seem so mysterious, impenetrable and magical. Or perhaps it is just Doris Doerrie being a crap direktorin.

USA USA USA

Conversation class, dateline: today --

Female student: "I hate the little flowers on the trees."
Me: "The cherry blossoms?"
Female student: "Yes, the little white flowers. They are blooming now."
Me: "What? Why do you hate them? Allergies...?"
Female student: "Because they are Japanese flowers."
Me: "What..."
Female student: "I took one off the tree..." (makes an exaggerated plucking motion) "...I take it home, and I crush it. I don't like."

....Seriously, what.

Springtime hits Korea

The best thing about Korea is the great comparison of things both 'yes'-inducing and 'hell no'-inducing, side-by-side. For instance, I found myself in Seoul on Saturday, with really naught to do but wander around Seoul Station, where there are some bums, some large buildings, some street vendors, and a palace or two. Seeing that it cost a measly 1,000 to enter, I chose one of the palaces, D-somethingorother. And it was lovely to wander the grounds, have faces made at me by some Southeast Asian tourists, and take in the cherry blossoms. Typical moseyings. I enjoyed also the hastily tacked on Western-style garden and fountain, added a little under a century ago. It seemed as though the ruler at the time decided that causasian folk were pretty cool, so he built four weirdly-proportioned otter/seal hybrids, looking angry and spouting water into a bright blue pool. The garden consisted of some grass and a shrub. Pretty good.

Also, nothing says 'springtime' like the fresh blooms on a cherry blossom tree, covered in the yellow dust of international pollution. Now I wanna see some oil-slick-covered penguins mate, or similar.

I washed my sheets today, only to discover....

AAAAAAAAGH the power of Christ compels you, etc. etc. Seriously, nice naming there, dudes. Don't try to fool me with your capital 'M'.

Things which I learned today

'Ori' means 'duck' in Korean, so apparently I live at Duck Station. This is awesome. And there are many ducks here, along the river, showing me their 'tocks when I walk to and from school. Unfortunately, there were also ducks on my dinner table tonight, which I kind of half-heartedly poked at while mostly noshing on banchan. They are still a little too cute for me to eat. Alert PETA. Oy.

My liiiiiiiife.

Apologies on the lack of updates, however, Korea does not have a magical anti-shit-hitting-fan shield around it. (Japan does, however. And the Koreans are pissed, I'm sure). Several things have prevented me from sitting down and spending quality time with the Create Post page in recent days, including but not limited to:

Hwangsa - also known as yellow dust, yellow sand, or 'goddammit, China, cut it out'. You can wikipedia it for all the delightful details, but needless to say, total wusses like me are quite affected by this phenomenon. I have been hacking like an 80-year-old asthmatic woman who just went for a run while chain smoking. Or, I've been hacking like I'm after the Gibson, if you are from RIT. A great deal of care has been put into not accidentally coughing up my dinner onto this keyboard. That'd be bad, apparently.

Pullin' the jerk shift - which is not actually an innuendo, unprecedented, I know. It seems my school is down one foreign teacher due to sheer selfishness and a lack of planning on one American's part. I won't shed a tear for the loss of her in my every day life, but losing my breaks during the day can't be helping the aforementioned hwangsa-lung-party. My boss first pulled the apologetic card, buying sweet breads for the Americans and rice cakes for the Korean teachers, and has been very mood-swingy over the past few days. Of course, she expects that the ad I put up on Craigslist will bring us a glittering new teacher in five minutes, but not a single response yet. I'm looking forward to just finding a new teacher and getting all this drama behind us, because my goodness, do I ever get tired of only talking gossip and saying mean things about a person. It just isn't my style.

Kids give the darndest things

I got freaking taekwondo ad socks from a female conversation student today. She doesn't do taekwondo or anything, nor could she very well express what these socks were and why they were for me, but anyhow. Taekwondo ad socks! Pretty sweet!

LADIES

The Seoul, Korea craigslist site is my favorite source of Engrish of questionable appropriateness. I troll it when I am feeling particularly in need of really quality attempts at my native tongue. Take, in particular, this charming fellow:

"Safe Fun - 28 - Seoul

Hi.

I want to meet someone
who knows how to play safe way,
who knows what is the polite way when meets somebody,
who knows what is "hot" when in the bed,
as I do.
(I mean phisically and socially safe way, but hot in the bed.) "

I am hot in the bed, sometimes. Particularly in the summer when I leave my air conditioning off to save on bills. FELLAS.

So this is the new year

The new school year has started in Sparkling (read: sparkling with raindrops) Korea, and so I am being treated to new kids, new teachers, new attitudes, new ways of being totally unable to communicate!

Friday marks the end of the first week of the new school year, and really, I am spending great amounts of mental power trying to will it closer. It's been a long week. An intelligent change to the schedule means that each foreign teacher spends time with 2 classes, instead of bouncing back and forth like a native-speaking ball between sometimes 5 different classes on any given day. However! My classes are Gentle (6 year olds who have no English learning experience) and Sunny (5 year olds, also they tell me that 'juice' is their favorite color). They are cute, to be sure, but it gets a little frustrating when my VERY ANGRY TEACHER FACE AND GENERAL DEMEANOR OF EXTREME IRRITATION are met with giggles.

This is the lowest of the low-level, people. I am nostalgic after four days for the call of 'teacher, what?' when a student's soul is troubled. 'Teacher, what?' seems like beautiful prose to my tired ears. I need to get used to the fact that these kids probably don't even understand the concept of Korean and English being two different languages. I get treated to cute and desperate lines of questioning each day, where a kid is trying to tell me that they can't find their older sister, or they'd really prefer to color with a red crayon thanks very much, or could they please have more curry. I can't answer them, and I can only understand enough to gather that something's pretty darned wrong, or that they really need to hit up the sshi post-haste.

So, hopefully, each child is in fact a super-genius, and they're gonna learn at least the basics, like, tomorrow.

Very dark pictures of things which make me glad

ARC Card (also known as the 'redundancy card') has been totally and completely gotten, in my possession, in my extra-terrestrial alien wallet. I am now an official threat to the Korean way of life! Hoorah!


333 won worth of red bean fish cake goodness. A follow-up to a tasty half tuna sandwich, two pieces of chocolate, and strawberry cream tea for dinner. I am so gonna be on the rag soon, if it was not abundantly clear already. THE MIRACULOUS CYCLE OF LIFE is all well and good with me, you know.

It's like a trillion doses of Paxil straight to your... well.

I think that this book is necessary reading for all citizens of the world, based solely on its title.

Photoshopped

So yesterday, in a stunning display of bureaucracy, I learned that there was something wrong with my ARC (Alien Registration Card) application. What, you might ask? Oh, the photo I gave them was too big to put on the card. That's right. The photo, from the same sheet of passport-sized photos which I have used twice previous, has eaten way too much over the past few weeks and is too big. So, no ARC for me yet. No bank account. No cell phone. No health care. Go figure.

To remedy this, I went to a photo studio across the street from my school to have a new picture taken. And good god, is that photo studio ever scary. Koreans seem far more obsessed with their outer appearance than Americans, as a whole. Where there is a mirror, there is a middle-aged woman checking out her caked-on makeup that render her kind of prostitute-esque. If one has a decent enough cell phone, well then, train that thing's camera on your mascara and take a quick picture on the subway to make sure that yes!, it looks perfect for that run to the convenience store or coffee place. Dudes are just as guilty, though mostly they are concerned about their sweet 'dos.

So I had my photo taken against a marvelously poop-brown background, and the photographer, free of charge, spent a few moments in Photoshop to make me gawgeous. Yup, it seems standard at this place that NO ONE is good enough to escape the healing brush tool. In my case, apparently there are lines around my eyes. And, wouldn't you know it, he rid me of my unsightly freckles. It makes one self-conscious to watch this person look at you, and decide what defects merit 3 minutes of retouching. But man, if he found so many defects in my face, I wonder how many sleepless nights he slaved away at flawless-faced portraits of ajumma that dot the walls.

How Korea attempted to ruin my birthday

Shameless marketing plug!

So, today I received my first-ever mail in Korea, a CD entitled 'Viva Game Boy!' by Matilda's Rabbit. It sat with the drowsy security guard all day before finding itself in my loving embrace. I have not opened it yet; I am far too excited. However, I want to share the link for the site I bought it from. Awesome customer service, a wicked good selection of things, and he'll go media-hunting for you if you want something specific. Plus, it's in English and he deals with foreign customers pretty much exclusively:

http://www.mrkwang.com/servlet/StoreFront

Enjoy please the spicy taste of Korean culture.

FIRE ZE MISSILES

So, our friendly neighbors in North Korea are apparently gonna test-fire a long range missile in the coming days. Am I little spooked? No, not particularly. More worried that I won't get to tour the DMZ or foreigner-friendly resorts across the border. But, hopefully all this sabre-rattling will stop soon.

Really, all that gets me riled up about the missile thing is that their missile is called the 'Taepodong'. As in, say you were sleeping with a fella you really liked, and you could comment happily to yourself, 'hey, that's my taepodong'.

More factual things here: http://www.koreaherald.co.kr/NEWKHSITE/data/html_dir/2009/02/05/200902050035.asp

DOG CAFE.

Parental Advisory: Explicit Nutcase

So, this evening, I enjoyed a latte and a chat with another American at a Starbucks (I know, I know) in the middle of a very posh mall in Suji. It was a little crowded, and everyone seemed to have little kids with them, and in fact one family found it totally acceptable to change a diaper and wipe a poopy bottom in the middle of the Starbucks, surrounded by Burberry and Coach and other things. Acceptable. Suddenly, from the left corner of my field of view, enter CRAZY WOMAN (mid-30's).

CRAZY WOMAN (shouting): FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FUCKERS. YOUR PLUS-SIZED DICKS ARE SOOO BIG. FUCK THAT. FUCK YOU. I'M NEVER COMING HERE AGAIN.

She storms a little way more past the Starbucks crowd, now kind of concerned, and looking at myself and the other American even more than usual. The international standard nervous hush follows. Crazy Woman has almost passed, when she stops, whips off her coat, stares straight at me and offers:

CRAZY WOMAN (shouting): YOU TWO ESPECIALLY! FUCK YOU TWO! FUCKING DISGUSTING!!

And she finally stomps out of view. We tried to remain in a state of nervous 'hah, look at that', but I was kind of dazed by it, a little shaken, a little heart-pound-y. This feeling's still with me now, a little later.

Of course, despite the weirdness of the situation, my first thought was: Huh, that's some of the best English I've heard all day.

Band of Outsiders

In Seoul is an area called Itaewon, maybe an hour from where I live, winding up the yellow line to the orange to the double-doored brown. And one finds in Itaewon, almost exclusively, foreigners and their everydays. Restaurants, bookstores, bootleg Abercrombie sweatshirts, banks where one can use non-domestic cards, pay-as-you-go mobile and normal-sized shoes.

It is the oddest place to visit, and makes me a good mix of uncomfortable and glad at once. Upon stepping off the subway, you're almost always greeted by the brownest man you've seen in days, giving you a flyer for "FOREIGN RESTAURANT -- HALAL SERVED" with a map of the Seoul subway on the back, and kind of unappetizing pictures of shawarma / palak paneer / actual roti plastered haphazard on the front. He does not look happy. His cohorts do not look happy. But my stomach leaps joyful at the thought of garam masala. The sidewalks right by the subway are also the worst, very slanty and thin and iced.

Around sit the signs of every American joint I don't particularly miss. Coldstone Creamery, Baskin Robbins, Subway, Hard Rock Cafe, Quiznos, usually on a theme of ice cream or sandwiches. And in them sit the happiest damned fatties I have ever seen. Thank HEAVENS there is a place without kimchi or crazy items, they maybe think. And then they bite into a rank roast beef au jus with cheese. There are, of course, also places with Indian food, and even nachos, and places which I one day want to try where one can get kangaroo steak, and Dubai Restaurant, and passable looking German side-dishes.

What the Book, a very greatly named bookstore, sits at the bottom of some more slippery stairs, and it is a dangerous place in which to bring a wallet. For starters, Indie Pop Rocks is always playing over the sound system. Always. For seconders, it is full of cute glasses-wearing caucazoids who seem to have wandered out of the local Fleet Foxes concert, a nice thing for my eyes to see, instead of the usual staring old Korean fellas. Admittedly, the used books are largely Dan Brown, girly shit, a healthy helping of sci-fi and others that I would not in my right mind read, but oh no, there are new books, too. Where I have snagged some Pynchon and some other novels. It is the odd side effect of being in Korea, teaching broken slow English, that I have a renewed appreciation for the more strange and rambling uses of the language. Do I like to listen to psych rock, read 'The Crying of Lot 49' and draw odd things in a notebook? Yes, of course, more than ever.

Before leaving Itaewon this weekend, I stopped at Foreigners Market, the Korean equivalent of the ubiquitous Asian Grocery Store from back in the U.S. It was a terrifying place, very small and with three aisles of overstuffed shelves. There are labels of every British, Japanese, Indian, American, European, Filipino food company, all sitting alongside another as uncomfortably as the foreigners who shove into one another for cans and bags of candy. Glares and stares exchanged as someone nabs the last Cadbury Milk bar. Good ol' American army boys shoving past vaguely-feared Ay-rabs in search of good catsup. The fish-smelling amalgam of Asian foods back in the states, now transposed across an ocean and into the necessary activities of such a strange group.

I left with 4500 won dal, though.

The top four best things about Korea

As decided by one who would really like some food right now, because I have the flu or something and can't keep much down, but I continue to dream of all things caloric, delicious, edible:

1) MAGICAL STRAWBERRIES. I am sure that these things are genetically engineered and I am probably growing a third arm as a result of eating them, but strawberries here are nothing short of miraculous. Big. Red. Plump. Most importantly, they taste pre-dipped in sugar. They are perfectly sweet and juicy and I don't think I have ever been so enamored with something that purports to be healthy.

2) FOUR-DOLLAR POTATO PIZZA. Yes, one could go to Papa John's or Domino's and shell out an arm and a leg for a pie, but why?! Korea's own Pizza School makes pies that are the right size for two hungry, kvetchy teachers, and they never cost more than 6,000 won. And you can get potato slices on top. And a big old bottle of Coke for 80 cents. And the disapproving stares of the pizza matron, who is really pissed that I don't speak Korean and just want some melty cheese.

3) THEY HAVE CRUNKY HERE !! The best-named candy bar in history continues its hold on my heart.

4) WHY IS IT CALLED ROTI, I DUNNO but there is this really awesome baked good named a 'roti'. It has nothing to do with India, and its name flirts with being related to the also-very-good 'roesti', but it is neither of these. Instead, it is a bun. A palm-sized, vaguely booblike bun. And the store where I buy them most often takes them straight out of the oven and puts them in a little bag for my convenience. These are the sweetest buns. On the bottom, it is a little bit crisp and sugary. On the top, it is soft and squishy like the clouds one would rest on in dreams. And inside - best part! - is a melty pat of butter which appears suddenly and engulfs you in salt and a general feeling of yesssssss. Related to #2, these only set me back 2,000 won when I have a craving, which is like, a buck-fifty.

A conversation with Kent.

Kent is a seven-year-old student at Kinder Liebe with a blank but affectionate stare, cute haircut, and relatively un-snotted/crayoned clothing. However, he also is a bit of a non sequitur machine. I hypothesize that, while most babies were either bottle- or breast- fed, Kent was given tabs of LSD. Here is some experiential evidence:

(in class, attempting to fill out an easy page in the English Land workbook)

Me: Okay, Kent, we have to unscramble the sentence. '15th June it's'. What do you think the first word is?
Kent: ......
Me: Let's say the first word is 'it's'. What word comes next?
Kent: Fish.
Me: No, that's not a choice. It either has to be 15th or June. Which word is it?
Kent: Party slowly.
Me: ...What?
Kent: Party... slowly.
Me: Okayyy, let's try the next question. Christmas is on what date?
Kent: (siren noise)
Me: It's in the winter time, so can you tell me a winter month?
Kent: Moooooooooooooo!!
Me: Okay. Kent. Look. It's in December. What day in December is Christmas?
Kent: December.... (long, pseudo-thoughtful pause)... Halloween!

Good news, bad news.

Good news: A new Shugo Tokumaru album is coming out in the spring, entitled 'Ram Hee'? I have no idea what would make a ram chuckle thus, but anyway, AWESOME.

Bad news: Today I had to undergo a series of health tests to prove my greatness and eligibility for an Alien Registration Card. This included a blood test, wherein a confused-looking Korean nurse attempted to draw blood from several points on my right arm, before concluding that the top of my hand was a happenin' place. All the while, I listened to Panda Bear's "Comfy in Nautica" on my iPod, singing 'coolness is having couraaaaage, courage to do what's riiiiiiiiight' and shielding my eyes like a whiny little child. Real brave, you see. Afterwards, I had to pee into a cup, which was a bit of a struggle but I overcame. However, I had to carry said cup of pee down a hallway with Gemma, the director of my school, standing next to me. Urine, meet boss. Boss, meet steaming-fresh urine.

Another week is nearly done; eating dinner with Gemma and others tonight. Let's celebration !!

Traditional Korean cuisine

I would just like to let the world know that I'm eating Texas toast garlic bread with cheese in the middle and honey on top.


That is all.

Kinder Liebe: BATTLE PLAN

So, I have successfully completed week one of fifty-two yelling at children to NO SPEAKING KOREAN and ENGLISH PLEASE. To which they reply, TEACHAA CRAZY and NO NO NO NO NO NO NO more often than not. These little fellers put up one tough fight against me, against English, against the temptation to NOT put their fingers in their butts, heaven forbid. Here is what I have observed so far:

1) English names! Each kid has an English name which I call them by, instead of their actual Korean name. It can be pretty funny, as I am now teaching a boatload of little Julies, a hot-headed Phil, one quiet Dana and a sweater vest-rockin' Daniel. It is kind of weird to yell at the small Asian embodiment of people that I know from back in the states. Nobody has my name, though.

2) Little kids here are as germy and gross as kids back in the US. One week in and I've developed a wicked post-nasal drip. No surprise there. The head of the school treated the teachers to a nice dinner of kimbap and u-dong on Friday, but I was maybe a little hesitant to eat on the same tables that my students rub their boogers on.

3) Whatever they put in the Japanese water to make their kids attentive, well-behaved and angelic is clearly not pumped into the water supply here. My GOD.

4) I am the token caucasian at the school. The other American teachers are Asian in descent, which means I get the stares, the sobs from the 5-year-olds, and the alternating comments that 'teachaa look like doll' or 'teachaa ugly!! hee hee hee hee'. The stares extend from school onto the street, so maybe I am flattered, just maybe.

Okay, more to come soon, for realsies.

Liveblogging Detroit Airport!!

8:00 AM - Gotta pee.
8:10 AM - ....might as well pee again.
8:20 AM - I would not care for a hamburger or Mexican food for breakfast, thanks.
8:27 AM - Only, like, five hours to go before I escape this gray and long hellhole!