Merry Merry quite contrary

Before I get into specifics it’s time to point out some fun but subtle, topsy-turvy things between Korea and North America. First, and most contrary is the Korean word for “Yes,” which is a drawn out, nasally “Nay.” This one is incredibly difficult for my brain to adapt to and often I am agreeing to things when really I want to say no. For the record I didn’t want the inflatable blow up doll.


In a market in Jeonju, and not a moment too soon, for I was really jonesing for some fresh, hygenic octopus.


I returned to Maisan Park, but this time I brought a friend to marvel at the pagodas. It's incredible every time I see it.

Another fun difference occurs in the classroom. All of our rooms have whiteboards and I have a small selection of markers to choose from: black, blue and red. When writing students’ names on the board one would intuitively think that it would be best to be fun and lighten the mood by using a variety of different colours. Nobody wants black all the time (Please don’t tell my friend Shaniqua I said that). So I thought I was stimulating the students and mixing things up by writing their names in red marker on the board. Little did I know, writing one’s name in red in Korea means that they are dead or an omen that they will die. Apparently, you only write the names of the deceased in red. There’s a little forewarning for any of those thinking about painting the town red in Korea.


Kelly and I leave our mark at Tapsa. We designed it using the forces of the universe.

The third difference isn’t unique to Korea; I think this one is sweeping the Asian continent. Back home dark skin is desired. There is something to be said about that golden, I just walked out of the oven, look. While many people are going to Sol Exotica and Fabutan to look like a Mrs. / Mr. Universe contestant, the exact opposite is desirable here. White is a delight, if I may speak proverbially. I have still yet to determine if Koreans are actually vampires, or people who are just afraid of the sun. Or maybe they’re just really into pantomime. If there is any trace of our fiery orbs rays then Koreans throw up an umbrella, a newspaper or a free hand – anything to preserve the anaemic look they have taken so long to create. Now, I’ve been told by many in my life that I am the whitest person they’ve ever met, but for some reason I don’t think that’s what they mean.


Went to Donghae to celebrate some birthday parties. I am not sure where this Korean lady came from, but we definitely got our dance on. She asked me if I wanted to go back her house, but, not wanting to leave my friends I politely declined by saying "nay."


What can I say. I love to grove while at noraebang.

Perhaps the paragon of backwardness is the Jedi Master himself. It’s so entertaining, (and motivating as an English teacher) to imagine that all of your students are little Yodas. “Teacher, bathroom may I go?” or “Bike riding, I went, on weekend.” And while I should not take any joy in my ineffectiveness as a teacher, it’s very difficult not to chuckle. Not good, my students, to laugh at.


I have a penchant for the claw game which is on every street and down every back alley in this country. This is what happens when gambling is made illegal.

This is the first time I will be spending the holiday season away from family and friends and while it will be difficult, I have a great group of people here to celebrate with. And also, before you start to feel too bad for me, a group of us will be going to Cambodia and Vietnam for the break. So instead of thinking about how sad it must be to be away from home this Christmas, please think of those who in your neighbourhood who might not have someone to spend time with this holiday season. It’s such a different experience over here that I think I’ll be able to manage and get through the forlornness. And while it saddens me to not be sharing a drink with you, or calling you Christmas morning, please do think of those who you can talk to and visit who might not be so fortunate.


Even Fred Astaire needed a break. So cut me a break.

Happy Holidays,

Hot blooded and romantically,

Tigerforest

Damnyang!

It was a sad day this past weekend. The streak came to an end. December 1st 2007 can be etched into the annals of time along with that iconic September 20th evening in 1998 when a veteran Cal Ripken Jr. didn’t take the field for the Baltimore Orioles as he had 2632 times before that. Ripken’s feat although impressive, isn’t as significant or monumental as the one that just slipped through my fingers. On a cool, yet tender, December evening in Seoul, I decided to dine at the Outback Steakhouse, thus putting an end to my 97 consecutive days of eating rice. It was indeed a sad day for all those who had been rooting and supporting me from day the first. To begin, I would like to thank the Infinite Spirit for giving me the opportunity to be able to consume such copious amounts of this starchy grain. Of course, none of this would be possible without the hard work and dedication of those industrious Korean farmers and the various people in this country who have found countless ways to paste, liquify, metamorphize and inject rice into various foods. You never know when or where it rears it's starchy self. I just want everyone to know that I did it for, you, the fans. You, and my alarm clock, are the reason I get up in the morning, so without either of you I couldn’t have done this. Thank you and God bless.


Before coming over to Korea I was a little apprehensive and worried that simple tasks like buying a loaf of bread or a dozen eggs might be a difficult endeavour. Although I’ve travelled before, the transition between Canada and England is relatively seamless. Besides my trip to Newfoundland I’ve always been able to understand and communicate with the people living in the places I’ve visited. Things like bread and eggs are very easy to obtain in Korea. You locate the item in one of the thousands of grocery stores and keep handing the cashier money until they stop speaking and start reaching into the till to present you with change. But the one perfunctory practice that has proven difficult is the haircut. This weekend I walked into a barber shop for a much needed trim. After playing some charades and a bit of pictionary, I was certain that my hair-chopping friend had the cut of my jib. The barber began to meticulously use his scissors. I heard the familiar and mechanical “snip” “snip” noise and assumed all was going well.


There is an important aside to this story; as a glasses wearer it is impossible to see the haircut in real time. Once the spectacles are removed the fate of the cutee (not to be confused with cutie) is in the hands of the cutter. After about 25 minutes had elapsed I put my glasses on to find that my desired haircut was far from a reality. I tried my best to explain that I no longer wanted an Alfalfa patch at the back of my head. I tried to think about the clearest way to say, "Think Matt Damon." Again, I removed my optical lenses and 10 miutes later found out that my stylist wasn’t understanding me (although he kept trying to clarifying by speaking in perfect and detailed Korean).


A karaoke machine that was synchronized to this water launching contraption. After careful deliberation we decided to wow our Korean audience with a euphonic rendition of Sweet Caroline. Note the multiple rat tails crawling down my neck. Visual proof it was time for a haircut.

At this point I was forced to change my approach, so I pointed to the razor, the # 4 hair guard and mimicked the noise of the machine. 3 minutes later and I was happy that the two of us finally understood each other. The only problem is I now have a buzzed head, which has instigated comments like, “Teacher, your hair looks like a Korean grandfather’s” and “Teacher, your hair is very not good,” from my students (which is very astute of them). As I mentioned before this barber is a scrupulous fellow and he seemed a little offended that after he painstaking clipped and groomed the individual hairs on my head I instructed him to destroy his masterpiece. I felt bad and did my best to show it, for it was like getting Leonardo Da Vinci to brush you the magnum opus of paintings and all you really wanted was an empty canvas.


Two weekends ago, Kelly, Dana and I, travelled to the town of Danyang and took in some of the local sights. Danyang is surrounded by many tourist attractions and places of natural beauty, so much so, that I propose that the town considers renaming itself to DAMNyang! The main purpose for our travels was to visit Guinsa temple. This place is a utopian haven nestled in foot of a steep and rugged valley. Guinsa is the isolated headquarters of the Cheontae sect of Korean Buddhism and a marvel to my eyes. We watched a group of devote followers assiduously make kimchi as if they were working a factory line (yet they seemed to be enjoying themselves). This sanctuary also has a dinning hall fit for 10,000 and serves three vegan meals to anyone in the neighbourhood daily. The only stipulation is you that you must eat every last grain of rice and every last drop of soup. Waste not, want not.


As the antithesis to that last thought, our school just had a new American teacher arrive to our school. He’s a fun guy to hang out with and has insisted on calling me Woody; so yet another arrow to add to the nickname quiver that is my last name.


Hot and impassioned,

Woody

Seoulmate

However insignificant it may seem, I must talk about splash-back. Splash-back has always been an interest of mine, and while I try to bring it up in conversation as often as possible, I know there may be a few of you out there asking, “what’s splash-back Ian, please do tell?”

Splash-back is an unfortunate event that strikes when you least expect it. Sometimes, when males relieve themselves some of the "output" can hit the urinal and splash-back at the emitter. It’s rather embarrassing, but sadly it’s a fact of life. Under normal conditions it’s a rarity in the urinating world, but in anormal Korea it happens all too often. The bane of my urinating existence has a name, and it is the Lavatron. The Lavatron, with it’s Epcot like sensors, gives a courtesy flush as you step up the urinal. It coats the urinal wall with a thin stream of water as you’re peeing so that your business rinses cleanly away and all but eliminates that distinct and unpleasant urine bouquet. On paper, it’s a wonderful idea, but while the hydrological lavatory engineers are patting themselves on the back for a job well done, splash-back rears its ugly and embarrassing head.


While the female readers will never experience (the thrill of) peeing into another stream of water, gender aside, one can image what happens when a high-powered stream of liquid comes in contact with another stream of liquid flowing perpendicular to the first stream. Of course the result is none other than our good friend splash-back. So whenever I urinate at the public facilities in Korea, I always stand an extra couple of inches back from the urinal. Typically when men go to the bathroom they stand at the urinal as if the inside of the porcelain has got the most important and personal secret to share with Mr. Johnson. Normally, I too encroach the urinal, but because I seem to be the only one in this country concerned about splash-back, I stand at a safe, yet socially unacceptable, hosing distance. I hope that the Koreans don’t think that I am trying to showoff or make them feel inadequate. There are few exceptions, almost all the urinals in the country, even the ones in the public parks, subway stations and government buildings, are equipped with the Lavatron. This is a wonderful amenity considering the government doesn’t offer any social programs or assistance to those in need, the minimum wage is around $3.50 an hour and the tap water isn’t safe to drink. Priorities I suppose. See, there you have it, even in a seemingly trivial rambling on splash-back there is a nugget of poignancy about Korea.


I assure you these ladies have nothing to do with splash-back or anything splash-back related. We met them two weekends ago in the hills at the north end of Seoul. We couldn't help but fall in love with them.

This past weekend Kelly, an English co-teacher, and I travelled to Seoraksan – I returning for a second time and her for her first – to take in the beauty and fresh air. Kelly and I enjoy taking in the Korean culture and sights and so we’ve quickly become very compatible travelling companions.



Four of these cats were guarding the front of this particular temple. If I had to hazard a guess they probably ward off bad spirits. I asked the four of them, but it seems they don't speak English because I didn't get any response.


As a bit of a hiker here in Korea, I’ve noticed that this country doesn’t use switchbacks. Most other places I’ve been to have trails that traverse fro and to so that climbing to the top of a mountain is more manageable. In Korea that doesn’t seem to be the case. If there is a mountain to climb, a deal to close, an education to get, a sidewalk to build, or a bakery to open, they head straight for their destination. If that means they have to put 808 stairs (as is the case in Seoraksan) inclined at 75 degrees (which one could argue takes away from the natural beauty) and head straight for the top, then that’s what they do. It should be noted that this isn’t really a complaint or a criticism, merely an observation. The switchback has it’s advantages and disadvantages; as does the direct, heart-attack inducing stairs that take you exactly where you want to go as efficiently as possible. I think this metaphor accurately encapsulates Koreans and their outlook on work and getting things accomplished.


If you look closely you can see the stairs in the middle of this giant rock. Just some of the 808.


Heundeulbawi (tottering rock) is a 16-tonne stone that was placed there by the hands of mother nature. Half the Korean population (24 million people) have tried to push this boulder. Sit and think about that.


Jane Fonda's "Buns of Steel" has nothing on this. And don't even get me started on Claudia Schiffer's "Cheeks of Iridium." These stairs are the ultimate workout.

The weekend was wonderful, but on the subway ride back to Sindaebangsamgeori Kelly and I received a detrimental piece of news. An American, co-teaching couple decided to pack their bags and return home without warning, or anytime to replace them. Another English teacher is missing in action. I guess the chilly weather that has just arrived literally gave them cold feet. If Koreans showed emotion you’d be able to see that our director is a little stressed out trying to fix things. Because of this little Dongjak SLP bump, things are a little hectic for everyone, and this entry has a few more photos and bit less writing. It’s okay though, Seoraksan can’t be justified with words.






With aching cupidity,

E-on teacher

P.S. Watch out for nuggets of poignancy, you never know where they may lurk.

P.P.S. If you ever come vis-a-vis with the Lavatron there is a way to outsmart the robot. Approach the urinal and walk away. Once the pre-flush has occurred, quickly jump in front. Before the Lavatron knows what hit it, you’re done your business; splash-back free.

P.P.P.S. For the record that says cupidity, not stupidity.

The Horse's Ear from the Horse's mouth

Let me preface this entry by posing a question. Has the person, or persons, who invented the coach bus and airplane seat ever sat in one for an extended period of time? After spending ample hours in these bucket chairs I have no choice but to conclude they have not. These people must have designed the chair, hit it rich and spent the rest of their days being supinely transported around on beds comforted by their own egos. I wonder if the designer, or designers, suffered from a chronic case of scolioisis and have a personal vendetta against the rest of us. Seriously, try and sleep in those things.

This past weekend was a cornucopia of Korean experiences: BBQ, soju, “service,” noreabang (karaoke), bus trips, traditional folk villages, markets, jjimjilbang (a Korean bathhouse, but not the type of bathhouse that is conjured up in the minds of the flower power generation), hiking and temples. That’s a lot to try and condense into one post, but I’ll do my best to be as pithy as possible.


After school on Friday night, two fellow co-workers and I ventured over to our favourite restaurant to enjoy some delicious Korean BBQ. The owner, Mr. Jeung, speaks quite a bit of English and is extremely cordial with Canadians. One of Mr. Jeung’s favourite things to do is sit down with his foreign customers, Skelly (Kelly), Mr. Chris and Mr. Ian, and enjoy shots of soju (which is a bit like vodka lite).

It is necessary to digress for a moment and explain how “service” works in this country. All restaurants owners in Korea know at least one english word, “service,” and if you show any sort of loyalty or spend more than about an hour in their establishment, then food and nibbles are on the house. It is also important to become familiar with the Korean drinking custom.

1. Never pour your own drink.
2. Once someone pours your drink you must finish it, and drink every last ounce because they may take your glass and turn it upside down over your head if you leave a drop behind.
3. If you see that someone else's glass is empty pour them a drink.
4. Refer to step 1. and repeat until necessary.


Needless to say, it didn't take long for the “service” to kick in. Meanwhile a Korean in-line skating team was celebrating a teammate's birthday. They looked like a good group of people and we decided to send them a celebratory bottle of soju (a 500 ml bottle of 25% alcohol costs around $1.75). Our simple gesture quickly became a fount for even more debauchery. Soon enough, we were sitting at the birthday table, enjoying cake and wine and talking about the beautiful coming together of our respective nations. Perhaps the United Nations should stop meeting at that silly building in New York and instead find a really big bar if we are to ever know One world. "So I says... Kofi Annan... but I want a cup right now." (Boutros Boutros-Golly this is a tough crowd). Afterwards, a drunk Mr. Jeung treated us to norebang, and we in return treated him to a pitch-perfect, mellifluous rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

I woke up the next morning, and for some unknown reason my head was rather painful. All my other co-workers had gone ATVing for the weekend and I decided to do some much needed and much desired solo-travelling. I hopped on a bus and headed to the town of Jeonju.


I assume that most of you have, at one point or another, heard the factoid that 90% of communication is non-verbal. Well, whoever came up with that statistic is full of poop and has obviously never taken a cab in Jeonju, Korea. If it wasn’t for my Lonely Planet I surely would have perished this weekend.


Thanks to LP, I found a tiny little room that would have even Gary Coleman saying “man, this room is tiny.” LP only led me astray once this weekend and it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I was trying to search for a nearby sauna so that I could relax and enjoy a good book. Eventually, a friendly man, named Shin-Bong Soo, who spoke a tiny bit of English, stopped and inquired about my ruffled brow. I said the word "jjimjilbang", and once he understood, he got on his phone and started calling around. Three minutes later he had the address and was telling me that we were going together.


I know that I’ve already talked about jjimjilbangs but, arguably, there’s nothing more perfect or ripe for blogging than naked Korean men and me (very arguably). I never realized it -- because the last time I was in one of these buildings I was a little tipsy -- but you have to be very comfortable with your naked self. You get off the elevator on the men’s floor and you are immediately confronted with bananas; not just one or two, but bunches of them. Men are just sitting in big leather chairs in nothing but their birthday suits, watching t.v. while other naked men are standing right beside them looking in the mirror and cleaning out their ears with q-tips. I tried to explain to Shin-Bong Soo how this would never be culturally accepted or common back home. Yet, in Korea this was just a normal, naked Saturday night. (I guess that's what happens when you don't have hockey night in Canada). Nobody’s eager to locate their clothes, or wrap a towel around their waist; it's such a huge contrast from our uncomfortable and homophobic culture back home. After about two hours, Shin-Bong Soo parted and I had the awkward pleasure of asking a nude stranger what floor the salt room was on. I am already a little apprehensive to talk to strangers, but I think asking naked, non-English speaking strangers takes the uncomfortable cake.


On Sunday, I travelled to Maisan Provincial Park, and visited one of the most stunning Buddhist temples (according to LP) in the country. Located at the base of two 650 m high stone peaks, which look like horses' ears, is Tapsa Pagoda Temple. The stone pagodas were arranged following the principles of yin and yang, and although they were piled up over 75 years ago, they have miraculously never crumbled or fallen and no concrete or cement has ever been used.







From my heart to yours,

Mr. Ian

Seoul Train

Again, it’s been a while since I last made a post, but rest assured that Hal Johnson and Joanne McLeod would be proud, for I have been keeping fit and having fun. Bert and his sister Gert would also be kosher, for I stayed alert and stayed safe. (To anyone who didn’t watch television at 4:00 in the afternoon in the 90's I apologize for the obscure references).

Two weekends ago I travelled with Dana, Mona and their South African friend Kaye to Seoraksan National Park, to enjoy the autumn foliage and crisp, fresh country air. We journeyed to a place called Osaek Hot Springs, with the intention of enjoying some hiking and relaxing in the natural, sulphuric baths. After enjoying some hiking, we learned that there weren’t any hot springs because of a major flood that hit the area in the summer. The name of the town was a bit deceiving and disheartening... although it wasn't nearly as disappointing as my trip to Lake Titicaca in Peru. And don’t even get me started about Intercourse, Pennsylvania... I suppose it was only fitting that I went to the Virgin Islands next.



The town of Osaek Hot Springs didn't have hot springs so we had to improvise. As the old saying goes, when life hands you a lemon, get in a bath tub with three super fun women.

The next morning we arose early, determined to scale the third highest mountain, Daecheongbong, in South Korea (1708 m). We were told that morning by our very amiable hostel host that we would be unable to climb the mountain. At first we were confused, but we soon discovered that he was questioning our climbing gear – track pants, running shoes and McMaster hoodies. Koreans take their hiking very serious and make it ostensible, nay, Koreans take everything very seriously and make all things ostensible and hiking is no exception. Every single person was dressed to the nines, many to the tens and some even to the elevens (which is the same as giving a 110% to getting dressed). Everyone wore “The North Face” this and “K2" that. All the Koreans had hiking poles, bullet-proof boots, ultra light drinking cups and that’s just to walk the dog in the park. I mean, if a Korean couple ever went on a romantic hiking getaway it wouldn’t surprise me one iota if they used North Face condoms. However, it must be said that the extremely difficult trail was crammed with literally thousands of people, the majority of whom were well into their forties, fifties and sixties. They all trudged to the top, proved that the tortoise really has some advice to offer and made North Americans look really torpid.




This past weekend I participated in an “Amazing Race” in Busan (all proceeds went to a local orphanage. It was altruism and adventure in one, or as I like to call it, adventruism, which is the best kind there is). Busan, population 4 million, is the second largest city in Korea, and is on the other side of the country from Seoul. It’s on the coast and has a beautiful combination of beaches, city, mountains, fishing port and industrial mega-centre. Four of us took the bullet train, which had a cruising speed around 290 km/h, across the country to our destination. It was an impressive ride that was so smooth I could have used the on-board toilets and peed on a dime, if I was so inclined.

On Saturday me and my partner, an English co-teacher from the school, ran all across Busan, performing various tasks, solving problems, taking photos in front of popular tourist attractions and throughly enjoying ourselves. As foreigners to the city we were quite satisfied with finishing 19th out of 42 teams.


Amazing was this race.


One of the challenges: get a random Korean stranger to be the third person in a human pyramid.

Later on that night the town of Busan, quite serendipitously, happened to be having it’s third annual fireworks show. This was definitely the most amazing displaying of blowing things up I have ever witnessed. Imagine George W. Bush saying, “Forget the war in Iraq. Let’s scrap the national defence budget. Instead we’ll show those evildoers how free we are by spending all that extra cash on fireworks. Nothing says American freedom like lighting a firecracker made in China.” If you can fathom that sort of spending then you have an idea of what this show was like. The grand finale made daylight seem like a day in the life of Andrea Bocelli.




Ka-boom!

Accompany me on all these travels was my Korean co-teacher’s stuffed, toy pig. I, with the help and abetment of some friends, captured her coveted swine and took pictures of it, a la the garden gnome, during the week to lighten the mood in the t-lounge (teacher’s lounge) and keep things more congenial. Like the villains in a James Bond flick, I feel compelled to share my diabolical undertaking for it’s as satisfying to share your brilliance as it is to execute it, perhaps even a little more. Enjoy!






Amorously,

Ion