Chapter 8: Oh The Weather Outside Is Spiteful

WE rendezvous with Our Hero during a brief reprieve from an anti-hellscape that would give Ithaca a run for its "How Low Does Kelvin Go?" prize. Today warmed up to a toasty 30something. Warmed Up To. When you see a Korean weather forecast that, in Celsius, looks more like an elementary paint-by-numbers kit than anything else, you know it's time to invest in a few animal hides.

From there, our story continues...

* Warm Winter Garments

Turns out, if you're hunting for deer, moose, or just low, low prices, you must journey to the heart of Seoul's shopping district, Dongdaemun Stadium, in the wee hours of the night -- when bargains are plentiful and bargain-hunters only less so. Most of the shopping transpired underground, in a subterranean labyrinth of leggings, hats, mittens, and too-small shoes. Slightly higher prices were tolerated for much higher temperatures, as shopping outside for that which we presently lacked would constitute a (rather quick) study in diminishing returns. Think Hoth minus the balmy inside of a dead Tauntaun.

I got: 3 hats, gloves, mittens, a giant scarf, and a toasty feeling of winter-readiness. I almost got: frostbitten toes, free coffee, and in a fight with drunk Koreans at a restaurant. I almost didn't get: home alive.

* Everland!

This really deserves a whole posting to itself, but I'll pique your something or other with these pictures:





Dunno why there are two moons in this picture.












There are chairlifts. In the distance, take a gander at Asia's largest wooden rollercoaster, and the steepest one in the world.

Part of Feeley-Summerl's "Jumping Photos ~ Flying!" series.










Cheap imitation of a genuine Feeley-Summerl.











They wear helmets. The helmets match the ornaments. Oh, Korea.









Tasty roast squid and peanut butter. No, really.









My retirement hobby.






* Korean Costco

Saves my life. It is real Costco, with one small difference. To a Korean: free diced onions + free ketchup + free mustard + a plate = free side dish. Really. I will get photo evidence. Anyways, it was the source of all the Thanksgiving foodstuffs we needed, minus turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. However it did provide three cooked chickens, cheap rolls, and Martinelli's sparkling cider in a 4 pack, 2 of which were drunk (mixed with soju, gaaaaaah!) and one of which remains in my keeping.

* Thanksgiving

We had a simple get together that included, among other things, home made stuffing. How do you make home made stuffing? I'll tell you. You get bread, leave it out for a night, crumble the dry pieces into a dish, add stuff, and bake in an oven.

Or, if you're us, you toast slices of white bread, at blurring speeds of up to ten slices an hour, for hours upon end. Observe the magic in action:




The stack grew as the night went on, roughly mirroring my intake of soju mixed in apple cider.










Yes, Theresa "crafted" the stuffing. But by volume and time involved, I am the rightful stuffing master.






* Haircut

Done.

* Nintendo DS

My Black Box o' Fun cost the equivalent of $150; in the U.S., it runs about $130 + tax... So for less than $10 extra, I got the case, the carrying case, and all games ever. Go me!

The best investment I've ever made myself -- beating out students loans and not infrequent flossing -- is about to get better. Chrono Trigger DS has been released, subsequently cracked, uploaded for, and downloaded by me, courtesy of Asian ingenuity and a certain disregard for copyright law. For the nerdier among you, I ask you the following: Fiendlord?

* The Won

Sucketh more. However, I've turned over a new half-full silver lining, or something to that effect. For example, my ticket home, purchased straight from the airline, was about 400 bucks cheaper.

* Christmas Confirmed

Right, so: I'm comin' home. I'll be there from the morning of the 24th to noon on the 3rd. The 24th is Family+Liwei time, and on the 25th there's... a birthday party or something. All other days are negotiable, though the vast majority will be spent with family. This means that if you want a piece of the Keith, you'd best schedule a time now. In pencil. With money attached.

* Korean Toiletry vs. Hygiene

Let's just say this: I would never want to be on the wrong side of a Korean toilet. Granted, I'd never want to be on the wrong side of any toilet, but the Korean Throne of Porcelain gets a special mention, due to a recent experience of mine.

I had two tasks to complete: brush my teeth, move some bowels. Obviously, the order is the aforelisted. Since I was at work, I decided to combine them into a single visit, under the guise of doing the former in a long yet plausible period of time. Having completed the brushing, I hoodie-pocketed the dental cleansing apparatus (one (1) toothbrush, std. size; and one (1) tube, toothpaste, std. size), and moved onto more stallward matters. The only cogent details here involve post-activity standing, leaning over to flush, and an unfortunate mid-flush lesson in gravity, static friction, and the overcoming thereof. Sploosh! sploosh! Then, less audibly, @#$%! Also, possibly a metaphysical poof! as my dental products vanished completely into the bowels of, well, bowels.

I panicked. I flushed again, and waited. It refilled at normal speed. I flushed, waited, and watched for a third time. It refilled a third time. Sharp panic becoming honest to goodness scientific inquiry at this point, I threw some toilet paper in, flushed and waited. No problems. After a few minutes, as my cover story of toothbrushery wore thinner with each flush, I decided to mosey on out of there. And yes, I whistled nonchalantly.

Alas, the next day, I saw a sign on the door in Korean, and knew the worst had happened. I don't know what the sign says, but I'd like to think it reads:

Here lies the Super Toilet, King of Thrones, Flusher of All Things Great and Small.

Farewell, Oh Porcelain Prince.

* Beard Rubbing Ritual

Mostly to part on a note slightly higher than a bathroom story, I will now relate to you the strangest thing I've witnessed in Korea: a creepy, old, Korean beard-afficianado. Let us relive this event theatrically:

YOU HAVE BEARD

A play in one part.

Personae Dramatis

Ramsey ..................................... A fully bearded American.
"Jimbo" ..................................... A Korean gentleman, somewhat bearded, and somewhat drunk.
Theresa .................................... A woman, beardless.
Kaitlyn ....................................... A Canadian, though strangly beardless.
Keith .......................................... Hid his almost-beard, after witnessing the ritual.
Chorus ....................................... If applicable.

Setting: A dark sidewalk in the middle of Hyundai-town, known for its "massage parlors" and erratic bus schedules.

Theresa: " ... And on Tuesdays, between 2:56pm and 3:02pm, when the date ends in multiple of 3, and the weather is between partly to mostly sunny, the 2112 bus will not turn right unexpectedly."

Keith and Ramsey: "OOOoooooh."
Kaitlyn: "OOOoooooh, eh?"

Theresa: "The 2211, however, is a bit complicated, and only makes lefts if the driver is wearing either a pink tie, or --"

Enter Jimbo, Stage Right.
Jimbo: "HI!"

Others: "... Hi."

Jimbo, pointing: "YOU HAVE BEARDUH."

Ramsey: "Uh, that's right, I do have a beard."

Jimbo, pointing at self: "I HAVE ALSO BEARDUH!"

Jimbo thrusts his chin upwards, revealing resplendant neck beard.

Ramsey: "Yup, that's a beard alright."

Jimbo: "YOU TOUCHEE?"

Ramsey: "'Scuse me?"

Jimbo: "TOUCHEE! MY! BEARDUH!"

Ramsey: "Oh, uh... hmm. I dunno about that."

Jimbo: "BEARDUH!"

Jimbo grabs Ramsey's hand.

Ramsey: "Okay, okay!"

Jimbo rubs the back of Ramsey's hand against his neck beard.

Keith wraps his scarf around his face.

Ramsey: "That's a nice beard ya got there. No doubt about it."

Jimbo, releasing hand: "YOU BEARDUH!"

Proffers his own hand.

Chorus, Off-Stage Left: And God did harden Ramses, er, Ramsey's beard, but softened his heart.

Ramsey rubs Jimbo's hand on his beard.

Jimbo: "OOooooh. Nice-uh."

Ramsey: "Sure is."

Jimbo points at Kaitlyn.

Jimbo: "YOU WIFE?"

Ramsey: "Nope."

Jimbo turns to Kaitlyn.

Jimbo: "HE HAVE BEARDUH! WHY NO MARRY?"

Kaitlyn: "...... what does he mean, 'Why no--"

Jimbo: "HE NICE BEARDUH! YOU MARRY!"

Theresa: "No, I don't think that's quite how it works."

Jimbo turns to Theresa. Theresa looks for Keith.

Keith: "Ninja, VANISH!"

Exit Keith, Stage The Shadows

Theresa: "Damn!"

Jimbo: "YOU MARRY! HE NICE BEARDUH!"

Ramsey: "We BOTH nice bearduh!"

Jimbo: "YES! WE BOTH BEARDUH, NICE BEARDUH!"

Theresa, to Jimbo: "I can see that!"
to Ramsey: "I'll kill you."

Kaitlyn: "... I mean, yes, a beard would be nice for keeping the moose at bay, but..."

Jimbo: "BEEEEEEAAAARDUH! " Belches. "OK, BYE!"

5 minutes pass.

Keith, from The Shadows: "Is he gone?"

Fin.


- K

Chapter 7: Caveat Lector

OUR HERO finds himself in a bit of a predicament, the likes of which may only be appreciated by the more videogamerish among you: buy the Nintendo DS or the Playstation PSP? Both have their merits, their problems, and share an order-of-magnitude price similarity, but I find myself leaning towards the DS. I can wangle one for two hundies, replete with hard case, travel bag, and the illegal R4 chip chock full of cracked DS games and gizmos. The drawback? It'll be programmed in Korean. The upside? I'll have a real reason to learn Korean.

As may be dawning on you even now, I, in a fiberlicious effort at regulation, have taken to blogging about what can be called, for lack of a better term (and in keeping with the spirit of the digestive metaphor), regular crap. No witticisms promised herein, thereunto, heretofore, and other ridiculous amalgamations. Come on, insofar as, you're almost there.

Anywho, I'm at work, done preparing today's lessons, and in between classes at the moment. I've spent the past thirty minutes catching up on other people's blogs, when it occurred to me -- no offense intended -- that I shouldn't limit myself to multiply edited, overwrought nuggets of Koreana; I could write about the wobliness of my elbowskin, and neither you nor the world could stop me...

Sometimes, my inner villain manifests itself in mysterious ways. Epidermal musings aside, my Machiavellian lobe hasn't gotten enough play lately, and it seems you are to bear the brunt of my machinations blogwise.

If this post has a chance of redemption, especially from the ever emo-izing abyss of meta, it would be in the newly formed yet already auspiciously titled:

"Chronicles of the Korean Classroom!" ("classroom, classroom, classroom...")

The following represents a cross-section of daily life among the ani- er, children.

* While filling in for another teacher, I have trained her kids to stop saying "yay!" when they get a question right, replacing it with a rather stuffy round of "huzzah!" This was done completely for my own amusement.

* One kid didn't do his homework for the third week running. So I made him do a wall-sit. Koreans are amazingly adept at squatting everywhere, but the wall sit's impossibility to the Korean is alluded to by a complete lack of anything resembling a rear end in the majority of the population. Hence, when 30 seconds later, the kid's legs started shaking, I could tell he'd learned his lesson.

I'm pretty sure the next 90 seconds, however, were for my own amusement. There's something to be said for making the lesson stick, but the day's lesson was "plausible deniability," though I may have forgotten to mention it.

* Lest you think me too cruel to my charges, let me leave you with this gem: there's something called Ddong chim. I have so far managed to avoid it, but not by the grace of good children. Our Hero acquires catlike reflexes where his rear iris, to purloin a phrase, is involved in a direct capacity. The irony of the attempted Ddong chim-ing on Pepero Day, a holiday created for the giving and receiving of chocolate covered sticks (Korean Pocky), was not lost on Our Hero.

That's all for now. I may have crossed a line or two, but I like the metaphorical cohesion, vis-a-vis fecal imagery, and will gladly accept the admonitory email from the 'rents in exchange for the one or two true connoisseurs of meta-crap-meta-crap.

I leave you with a brief AIM exchange:

Julie: The speakers said that you can't be a surgeon if you'd rather be Jackson Pollock.

And to be honest I'd rather be Jackson Pollock.

Me: Good to know those are mutally exclusive. Except, possibly, for a singular intersection at haruspicy, but I'm hoping that's not what they meant.

- K

Chapter 6: I Need A Montage!

SO, I'm lazy. On the other hand, you're getting this for free. So who's really the lazy one?

Ok it's me, as evidenced by the utter lack of pictures accompanying this post. Mea Culpa, I'll do better next time.



* Mihwangsa

Went to a Buddhist temple. Stayed the night. Partied with monks. Climbed a mountain, and looked over the sea in both directions. Also, gained Squat Toilet Skillz. Awww, yeah, gimme some.

* Seoul Drum Festival

Let's talk about something that happened awhile back, the pictures of which are blurred beyond the awesome powers of Adobe: the Seoul Drum Festival.

It had been awhile since we'd been oot and aboot -- drinking-establishments excluded, of course -- and enough had become enough; before Theresa got here, we'd decided that we were going to spur each other to take advantage of the strange metropolis of Seoul, and that didn't seem to be happening as much as we'd have liked.

Enter the Seoul Drum Festival. Directions: combine the following words into a state of ridiculous fun:

- Seoul Forest
- giant stage
- keytar
- synth drums
- hair band
- breakdancing demon
- fire
- mob of koreans.

Ok, stream of consciousness narrowly avoided, let's see what the hell I'm talking about. We got there well after nightfall, having missed an act or two. The band onstage consisted of 3 guys with synthetic quad-drums and a drum machine, backed up by a girl on a dais with a huge keytar. It was loud. It was cool. At one point, they swapped their drums for sensors placed on their bodies, and played by smacking, patting, and chest-bumping. Fun Was Had By All.

The next band was a jazz band. There was a Korean drummer. I think. They played Hawaii 5-0, and When the Saints Come Marching In. Confusion Was Shared By Most.

Then came an Indonesian (possibly) band, comprised of around 10 guys, half of whom were sitting. Complex rhythms evolved from simple "pass around the beat" stints, and it got faster and louder -- the natural evolution of drums, it would seem. Some guys used their feet to change the pitch. There was some vocalization that can only be described as hooting, much to the delight of the many children present, or at least those still awake. Q: Who can sleep during a drum festival? A: Sleep-deprived Korean kids.

Anywho, we debated whether we should stick out the increasing chilliness for the "Closing Ceremony," which would consist of... we had no idea. Probably the emcee and a long-winded speech about culture.

Curiosity won out over the urge for self-preservation, or perhaps avenged the latter as our legs were frozen to the ground at this point, and we stayed. We were, how you say?, pleasantly surprised.

The Closing Ceremony consisted of 5 sequential acts, each more ridiculous than the last -- prompting repeated statements to the effect of, "Woah. No way they can beat tha- hang on..."

In the first, a long-haired, bearded and mustachioed, "just stepped out of a movie set at least a thousand years ago," drummer took the stage, three drumsticks in each hand. After some dramatic flourishing and mood-lighting, he managed to find his huge drum set, and proceeded to enact what could best be described as "what it would sound like if an avalanche had style."

The second act opened with a few dancers. They crossed the stage gracefully, opening and closing fans in time with the man -- referred to henceforth as "Animal" from the muppets. The drumming and dancing intensified; Animal started Headbanging in time with his own drumming. He was soon joined, drum- and headbang-wise, by two of the dancers, who turned out to be drummers after all. Three robed, possessed-looking drummers headbanging in-sync is a sight one does not soon forget. It was not, however, the finale, even of the act, as the remaining 3 dancers were joined by a breakdancing, masked demon. I can't quite explain how, but the juxtaposition of the flowing, graceful, Korean style and the frantically interrupted-yet-sinuous movements of the breakdancer were mesmerizing. This, we were sure, as the lights went out, could not be topped.

The lights didn't come back on for a bit. Just as I was rousing my legs to life, more drumming came from the still unlit stage. Unlit, yet... holy #$%^, their drumsticks are on fire. Sometimes, your mind actually thinks in censored noises. Afterimages rhythmically blazed across the stage, too faint for my cellphone camera, but clearly visible in the chilly darkness of evening. Surely this, we knew must be the finale.

A question that has plagued philosophers since the time of Aristotle was about to be answered: If a tree falls in Seoul Forest, and nobody hears it over the fiery drumming of the festival musicians, what beats breakdancing demons and pyrotechnics? The answer?

Breakdancing demons, pyrotechnics, and a four-way sword fight.

Eventually the flames were extinguished, but not before armed dancers took the stage. Imagine the part of a kung fu movie it's one guy against all the others. Drums pounding in the background, he manages to fight one off, only to have his foe replaced by two, three more sword-wielding attackers. Now, imagine that he's spinning on his head, fending off the stabs of three lethally graceful fan dancers with straight swords. Add in the crazed thrashings of our long-haired drummer trio, and you've got yourself a ballgame. Except, you know, interesting to watch.

Anyway, the following (and final) act involved putting water on the drum heads to make up for the obvious lack of spectacle in any of the preceding acts. Also, Animal jumped on his drums at one point. There was a video in the background, all the Koreans chanted something akin to "Viva Korea!" in a startling display of, well, emotion. At the end, the crowd flooded the stage, interrupted, frustrated, and finally chased away the emcee.

All in all, it was a good night.

* The Won

This post is getting out of hand. The idea was to be quick. So, here goes. The won has, alternately: lost, gained, risen, fallen, exploded, sucked, been unpegged, come unglued, skyrocketed, plummeted, gained me moneys, lost me moneys, lost me 'earties, lost me monkeys, upchucked, downsized, inflated, popped, and died.

It will, one hopes, resurrect in a few months. Otherwise, my salary is being paid in Zombie Bucks, and could turn out to have the buying power similar to shells and beads, only a few millennia late.

* Christmas

I may come home. If I do, it will be from Dec. 23- Jan. 3rdish. Hide your women and children.

* Online sibling absence

Tasha is probably dead. I haven't received so much as a facebook poke from my errant, soon to be erstwhile twin. Let it be Proclaiméd here and now: I get her stuff.

* Work

Is boring. I am at work. And bored. Latest batch of quotes from students, in response to

Me: "Why do you want to visit the US?"
Student A: "For free lady. Teacher, how you call free lady?"
Me: "Free... ladies? Er..."
Student A: [Pantomimes]
Me: "... The Statue of Liberty?"
Student A: "Yes. I like free stajoo lady."
Student B: "I want to go USA and see Batman, Superman, and Obama."



- K

Chapter Five: Some Ado About Nothing

OK GANG, here's the deal. I've been on two photolicious trips since last time I posted, and those photos are forthcoming. For now, content yourselves with the following, less adventurous problems of Our Hero, and perhaps glean from it that he is settling into this strange land with some success.


* Spaghetti in a styrofoam bowl -- proof that it's not "the thought that counts." The concept, though horrendous to you true Italian gourmands out there, seems feasible enough: noodles+spaghetti sauce = spaghetti. In a part of the world renowned for the ability to make, dehydrate, and package noodles, there's only so much room for error in this equation, right? Unfortunately, Korea is also known for its proven ability to seize upon the tiniest space and develop it into a glaring monstrosity. Hyperbole? Me? Never.
I'm just of the opinion that, given the strength of Korea's global network of commerce, especially as regards the West, that they might, you know, find a way to put actual spaghetti sauce in a plastic packet. They can dry-goodsify damn near every other foodstuff, including several hundred species of gooey undersea creature, but when it comes to the marinara dessicante, Korea magically infuses the resulting powder with hot'n'spicy, straight from the spice-weasel. Not that I don't like-a the spice -- in fact, my palate has gone from Near-Swedish to More-Chili-Paste-Please! in a few short months -- but it's the principle of the thing. It's like biting into a slice of pizza to find a layer of Cocoa Puffs: two flavors, both tasty, but never the twain shall meet.

Enough whining. The food here continues to boggle my mind, but usually in positive ways.

* 12/21/2012 vs. the Korean Won.

Alright. If you haven't heard of 12/21/2012, then you should know two things: first, the Mayan counting system is base 20, and its calendar throws in a 13-cycle just to be a little funky, and this somehow conspires to make a calendar that can only count up to December 21, 2012. Second, it's complete and utter bunk. Modern Mayan scholars give it no credence, and the date might not even be correct.
What is scarier than this shiny new example of New Age Nostradumbassery is the fall of the Korean Won, as well as the climb of the US Dollar. Now, don't get me wrong; I'm glad we're getting our economy back on track, but would it kill the US to take N Korea off the terrorist list? From the little I've been able to discern, their reluctance to do so has spurred the North to stop dismantling, and perhaps start reconstructing their nuke facilities, and this somehow makes the South's money worth less than before. C'mon, guys. Poppa needs a brand new student loan payment.

* sickness.

When I started this post, I was sick. I have since recovered. The cure seems to have been a mixture of sleep, The West Wing, and various alcoholic potables.

* a preview of the trip to a mountain

Here is what happens when you don't know how to say "We want to split this large, somewhat pricey meal."

Step 1- The Food.
[not pictured. refer to next image, but halve the quantity of foodage.]


Step 2- The More Food.

Step 3 - The "Aren't There People Starving Somewhere Who Could Maybe Live Off This For A Few Years?" Food.

Step 4 - Food Coma.



And that's all for now. When I have more time/energy/willpower/monetary incentive, I may post again.

Tootles!

- K

Chapter 4: Veni, Vidi, Vegged-i

It has come to the attention of Our Hero that further adventures are expected, and their recountings made public at the whim of his audience. Not one to disappoint, it has become his solemn duty to 1) get into hijinks and shenanigans galore, and 2) tell all you busybodies about it. Unfortunately, the "adventures" of hiking a beautiful mountain, tasting traditional cuisine, and attending festivals have yet to happen.



For now, you sorry sedentaries get to hear about my amazingly relaxing 5-day weekend. It was... lethargy at its pinnacle. What did I do? I ate. I slept. I watched bootlegged DVDs. Kung Fu Panda [or it's Eastern Brother Кунг-Фу Панда] was of amazing quality, both Movie- and bootleg-wise. Kudos to Dreamworks, and the Black Market for making this viewing possible.



Really, though, before you guys get all "what the heck, why didn't you GO somewhere on your vacation??!", let me share some thoughts. First off, my Korean, though improving, isn't anywhere near travel-worthy yet, at least not to the non-bucket-hats-and-camera-neckstraps destinations. Secondly, all of those destinations are full at the moment. Korea has this wonderfully efficient way of vacationing: all of the major corporations send their employees on vacation during the same couple of weeks. This is why I passed on invites to Pusan, a trip to Nami Island, and touring Korean vacation destinations in general.

Thirdly and finally, the weather kinda blew until just this morning. Today was a non-humid, 80ish day with a breeze and a cloudless sky. I really should have taken pictures. Unfortunately, I left my camera inside when we went "hiking" [really, if it's all staired and squared, can you call it hiking?] up a lush green hill, only to find a veritable outdoor gym at the top. There were elliptical machinces, Gazelle-esque walkers [a la Tony Little, but with stern-faced Koreans replacing steroid-induced crazy eyes], bars, rings, complicated self-lifting machines, and, Korea's National Gym Machine, the Twist-thingamabob. Imagine a little circular platform that you can rotate on. Now add handles for stability. Now, multiply by 20 and add brightly colored, middle-aged Koreans, Chubby Checkering their hip flexors into oblivion. God only knows if/how/why this exercise works, but I suspect it began as a practical joke of some kind, or as a bet between infomercial producers. In a gym in Korea, it's pretty ridiculous. Being ambushed by a squad of the smooth gyrators on top of a hill, in the middle of a hiking trail... "surreal" doesn't quite do it justice.

Other highlights of the vacation and past month [?! really? dang.] include:

- Singing karoake [noraebang in Korean] with former roommate Tom [+ a British Tom]. There were epic moments [Take On Me], ridiculous moments [dragostea din tei] , and video-captured moments [Wonderwall]. Also, when a second venue tried to charge us 20 bucks for singing, and another 19 for THREE CANS of beer [each valued at approx. $1.50], we opted for billiard instead, where I, using a two-fingered purple spandex glove, did Lay Down the Law of Pool Supremacy 5 games straight. Roommate Tom did Lay Down the Law of Scratching on nearly every shot, including one that went clear off the table.

- Imbibing non-crappy beer at a Medieval Themed brew-pub, with three variants of European Beer. It had shields, swords, coats of arms, and an 8-foot tall projector screen with the a live Pussycat Dolls concert. For The Authentic Tasting of Europe indeed!

- A non-PG13 story, in which one of my students loudly mispronounces the Scandinavian name Knut, to stunned silence on my part. I thought I recovered well, though, with "........ not quite. I think it's pronounced, 'Newt', not... it's 'Newt'. Good job."

- Debating the merits of cannibalism with a class full of precocious 5th graders. Most discussions ended in "... chaos. And like, zombies. ZOMBIE CHAOS! Can I go to the bathroom?"

And that's all the news that's fit to print. Join us next time, when Our Hero ventures to far-off lands on the weekend after getting a substantial paycheck!

- K

Chapter 3: Caveat Vendor

WE rejoin Our Hero -- gag rule on any "rejoinder" rejoinders... dang! -- as he further contemplates his new life. For one thing, the internets are still owning me, instead of the other way 'round. That should all change next week, though, when I get my green card thingy. Then the tubes shall open, and their vast, interconnected series shall bow to my whim.

But that day is still ahead of us, and its bounty of easily uploaded pictures. For now, you'll just have to content yourselves with a few random pictures taken during my wanderings.

Por ejemplo:

This guy is a fine specimen of the scooter/motorcycle epidemic here. More on that later.



And here, we see an ad for Soju, which literally translates to "the Devil's Tears." It's bottled up and sold to Koreans by the hangover.
When I get off work around 11pm, I come home to a street full of completely trashed 50-something businessmen, many of them unable to contain their... enthusiasm. I learned the term "Street Pizza" on my second day here. All thanks to good ol' Soj.



Here we have an artist's rendering of the complexity of the current political situation, and its ramifications vis-a-vis the President's tenure.





In a country where elevators talk, subway cars have AC, and cellphones have free streaming television, a scene like this is cause for some heavy thinking. Yes, those are tiny, green post-its.




I think this car was trying to sneak up on me.



Shoes. Shoes. Ohmygod! Shoes.




Q: "Can corndogs be made more delicious?" A: "And how!"




INTREPID MAN NEEDED. SALARY: GIANT MOP.





That's all for now, folks. Join us next time, when Our Hero:

a) Conquers the TechnoMart, and plunders its cellphone-rich mines.

b) Learns how to say "chicken feet," so as to never, ever, make that mistake again.

c) Maybe even tries to cook something.

- K

Chapter 2: An American Idiot in Seoul.

Well, me buckos, it finally sank in that I'm not in Kansas anymore. What pushed me over the rainbow?

It wasn't the subway. The underground metro here is amazing: take the Moscow metro, but replace the beautiful, historic architecture with efficient, sleek gadgetry, throw in some mini-malls, a shopping center or two, and garnish with an exceedingly confusing system of exits and understreet crossings, and you've got a network of tunnels that a person could get lost in for hours. Believe me: I, uh... have a friend who did that. A few times. And had to buy lunch underground because he lost all sense of direction, time, and smell in the deep places of the Earth.

It wasn't the kimchee. Stuff smells like death incarnate, but the taste isn't exactly bad. What is disgusting are the rice cake patties. I bought ten for two bucks, and barely made it through one of the suckers. It's like eating silly putty.

It wasn't the job. I'm already getting used to the fact that contracts are more like guidelines over here than legally binding documents -- this having been made abundantly clear when, within 6 hours of getting here, I found out that my hours, location, and housing had all been changed without my knowledge. Also, this Friday's a holiday, and instead of getting the day off, I'm working a double shift: noon to 11pm. While I'm not thrilled about the management ethics over here, I'm willing to put up with a little crap for the experience.

What did it was the laundry. Here's what I'm working with: (click for large view)



And here's my "Instructions for Silly American Who Thought He Could Handle Korean Laundry" --




Notice anything missing from the picture? Go ahead, look again.

If you answered "A START button!" you are correct. We would also have accepted "Abort Mission," "Add Hot Sauce," or "Nuke the North."

Besides the ludicrous amount of time it took me to figure out how to start the dang thing, other obstacles included my purchase of fabric softener instead of detergent and assuming 'Standard' meant regular cycle, not 90 minutes of crazed tumbling. Cleanest undershirts EVER.

That's all for now, folks. Tune in next time, when our Hero tames the mystical creature that is the Korean Cellphone.

Chapter 1: Wandering Seoul

In a philosophical sense, I guess we're all Lost for most, if not all of our lives. We spend our time looking for familiar guideposts, hoping to run into a companion along the way. And when that doesn't happen, we look to a higher spiritual power to shepherd us in the right direction.

In a more earthly sense, I spent about 6 hours out of my first 36 in Seoul completely and utterly lost. I forgot the names of my apartment building, street, and subway stop. I forgot the neighborhood of my school, the district I live in, and how to ask for directions in Korean. In short, you shouldn't ask someone to come into work 6 hours after landing from a 13 hour flight, when they've crossed 8 timezones and the international dateline. Especially when that person is a foolhardy idiot like me.

But it can't all be blamed on sleep and idiocy; Korean streets have names, but nobody knows them. They give directions using buildings and landmarks -- basically, if you already know where you're going, you can get there. This doesn't bode well as a window into Korean thinking.

Also, they have subway stations that boggle the mind. To cross busy streets, you often have to go into one of these sprawling mazes, replete with vendors selling everything from rice cakes and hot dogs to cellphones and suits. The station at KangNam -- we'll get there eventually -- has a bona fide underground shopping center and arcade. In short, these are not exactly pedestrian underpasses.

Now, with 13 different entrances/exits from Kyode station -- the one nearest me, under which I must go to get to work every day -- it's a mathematical probability that I would end up lost. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. And even though a fellow teacher from work took me to work the first day, I managed to get lost coming home and going back the next day. Somewhere along my travels, I became a modern Theseus, taking pictures of where I'd been so as not to get too lost in the labyrinthine city, which is like the underground stations but with 10 more people and larger buildings. Some fruits of this exploit: (click for larger photo)

This is a Lotte Castle. There are approximately 1,235,654,680,112 of them. Using it as a landmark was like looking for keys by remembering they were "next to something that wasn't a duck. I think."














Here's a prime example of useless street signage. I had no idea what street I lived on, but neither did anybody else. In retrospect, I should have turned left. Guess which way I went?
















Because when you think Irish Pub, you think Japanese beer.














I have yet to try Korean Domino's, and this picture might explain why. For fun, try and identify 5 ingredients on that pizza.












A slightly creepy, but pretty cool garden sculpture thing. I went into a subway station 3 times, and came out 3 times, and each time I came across these two. The fourth time, I walked down, made a circuit, and tried to come out the same way I came in. I popped out two streets away. Cube 3, anyone?













Eventually, I gave up looking for my workplace and decided to come home. Fortunately, I'd learned my subway stop by then, and what Korea lacks above ground it makes up for underneath. After 4+ hours of exploring, I made it home in 20 minutes. Then, 20 minutes later, a co-worker came a-knockin', and he took me to school.

That's all for now. Join us next time, when our Hero attempts such Heroic tasks as sleeping and doing laundry!

On the Plane

It’s -52 degrees Celsius outside, dark, and there’s a discontinuity in the space-time continuum. Duran Duran’s goin’ crazy psychedelic even through closed eyelids, but all I hear is China’s best love songs on continuous loop. I’ve been awake for 21 hours, and in the last 7 I’ve consumed coffee, red wine, orange juice, and three bourbons and coke. I’m pretty sure I’ve found Limbo.

Thoughts of cheap Korean barbeque, my own apartment, and starting a new job have succumbed to fuzzy-brain syndrome; trying to imagine my soon to be realized future seems as feasible as pondering where your lap goes when you stand up. This is not going to be a very fruitful posting, but the alternative is just sitting here, thinking the fuzzy thoughts to myself.

It may be time to break out the SNES emulator, and Link to the Past. Hmm.

The first small bump.

Hello and welcome to the first episode in what promises to be a long, drawn-out, shark-jumptastic serial program! We join Our Hero in Korea...town, L.A., where he is just learning that he may be the victim of poor planning.

You see, he forgot the universal truth that, when given the chance, anybody will take a vacation day. Case in point: the Korean Consulate General of Los Angeles. You see, Our Hero was
supposed to stop by there around noon to get his visa stuff turned in, so he might pick up his bona fide "don't deport my sorry butt after a month" pass to Korea the following day, right before catching a plane bound for the land of poor-planners.

Anywho, the hotel's not on my dime. Neither are the tickets. So, I may just have to enjoy L.A. for a day or two extra. Another option could be to send me to Japan to get my Korean visa, sometime in the first few weeks. I wouldn't mind that, either.

But for now, I'm stuck in the J.J. Grand Hotel in Koreatown, watching Korean soaps (with subtitles) and pondering my life choices.

Tootles!

It begins... in a week and a half.

And we come to it. Here begins the story of the Beast, and his sojourn to the East. Like any good epic, it requires an introduction: call this Chapter 0, and page i.

Parental and popular demands have necessitated an internet-accessible log of my experiences; the latter to appease the 3 or so people who read my last blog, and the former to stay the effects of not calling home twice a day to confirm that Kim Jong Il hasn't made off with my kidneys.

For those unfamiliar with the details, here's some background info: I'll be working for Olympiad Academy in Seoul, South Korea, as a teacher of English as a foreign language. It's a year-long contract. They pay for my flights and an apartment. It's a pretty sweet gig.

The date of departure looms near, yet anxiety/excitement levels remain low. Tomorrow, I trek into town for supplies -- mostly clothing -- and get my final itinerary for the flight. The one forwarded me today by Hero (a name worth remembering, as he's my boss-to-be) had me leaving LAX a day earlier than we wanted, and on two separate planes. No, not connecting flights -- two planes that take off within half an hour of each other. Barring some alarming breakthroughs in quantum theory, it looks like Hero will just have to straighten things out tomorrow. I'm not a worrier. Worst case scenario, I'm in LA for a few days extra. I'll have to remember to capitalize on my last chance for Mexican food for a year or so.

Well, I'm getting tired. It's about 1 AM PST, which is... a different time in Seoul. I'll have to change my sleep schedule soon, but not yet.

- K