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

You've been taughten

I realize it’s been a while since I last made a post. You see, a group of us have gotten hooked on The Office. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the sitcom, it’s like The Drew Carey Show only funny.

After doing some blog reflecting I’ve realized that I have written very little on my teaching experience thus far, which is very disproportionate seeing that it occupies about 45 hours of my week. You may be interested to know that the traditional Korean word for teacher, pronounced geyosa, originates from the hangeul language and roughly translates to, photocopying strumpet. In the teacher’s lounge I find myself always rushing to the photocopier and making a dozen xeroxes here and there. I feel like all I ever do is make copies. To ensure it doesn't become a boring task I always try and use the photocopier with the Korean touchpad, just incase some stranger is looking over my shoulder and getting very impressed with my understanding of the language (I’ve memorized all the buttons... shhhhh!).

Recently things have been going much better in the classroom. I still wish I didn’t have to spend so much time worrying about classroom management with the younger kids, but I suppose I too was obstreperous at that age. The worst is when you’re in a class with 10 unruly students and you have to get their attention. You ask for everyone to focus and that doesn’t work, so you start by saying the names of each student individually: “Jenny eyes up front please, Sarah paying attention okay?, Dylan, James, Edward can you stop that, Michael, Leslie, Olivia, Jessica sitting in your seat please, Annie, good.” And by the time you’ve said “Annie,” Jenny has now become distracted by her pencil case, Dylan is picking his nose and the name game is afoot all over again. But for all of the bad things there are an equal number of good things (that's so Buddhist). One of my favourite things about the younger classes occurs when I mention the word "partners."
“Okay, so now we’re going to get into partners and practice our speaking.” At this point, all the girls are waving across their desks and pointing back and forth at each other like they’ve got an unabating palsy. They're so excited they can no longer speak in sentences, all that stutters out of their mouths is "me, you, me, you, me, you, you, me, me." The girls are not to be outdone by the boys though. Many of the young lads have strong bonds with their partners as well. They'll turn to their friend and give them a bear hug so tight you’d need the jaws of life to pry them apart. It just might be the most adorable thing in the world. So sometimes, when I am feeling a little low because of classroom management problems, I like to announce that we will be getting into partners so I can observe this precious ritual. “Oh, actually no, we don’t need partners just yet, sorry everyone.” (But really I am not sorry....shhhh.)

I also have older students and the other day, in arguably the most advanced class in the school, I almost broke out in tears. I was checking their homework; they had to use the conjunctions (conjunkie-what-tees?), "but", "though", "where", "because", and "so", and make their own complex sentences. All of the students in this class have spent a year living in the United States and travelling the world (all six of these 12 year-olds have been to at least 4 different countries in the world, and they’ve all been to New York City, The Grand Canyon and California). One girl in this class tries so hard to complete her homework, and spends many more hours studying than her counterparts so that she can match her other classmates. She’s a lamb of a student, and is so polite and respectful. If she didn't worry so much about the self-imposed burden she put on herself, she'd be answering questions all of the time and reading so much more strongly. Anyway, I was reading through her conjunction homework and came across the following sentences, “I try so hard, but it never enough,” and then two sentences later, “I can’t run very fast because I am heavy.” I almost broke down in front of the class. I didn't feel like teaching for the rest of the day because I was so despondent. I was also upset at the utter cruelty and insanity of a world that makes someone – a 12 year old no less – feel this way. While this is a sad account, it does demonstrate my favourite part of the job. I love having aproximately 60 students with whom I get to slowly learn new traits and characteristics about each and everyday. It’s a great thing walking into the classroom, and challenging yourself to try to connect with each one of them and gain greater insights into who they are, and then trying to use that knowledge to make them better people and educate them.

Below are some photos of my recent weekend travels. Some of the pics were taken in Seoul and some are from a lantern festival in a town called Jinju, about four hours southeast of Seoul.



Silkworm larvae. A Korean delicacy that no one who isn't playing Survivor should ever think about eating.


It's always Survivor time for Horse. 24-7


The Korean way to leave your mark and say, "Mike was here." or "Sarah and Tony 4 ever."


What would happen if David Suzuki quit his day job.

Licentiously,

Me

Eclectic Entries

When you’re in a foreign country that’s similar to the one you come from in many ways, and yet so different in others, it’s the little things that begin to irk you. The other day I was shopping for soap in a store identical to those in North America. The soaps were easy to recognize by their characteristic boxes and shapes; the only difference was the fragrances. I was looking for an invigorating and manly bar – something that screamed shirtless man in Ireland, whittling away at green slabs of lye – and instead I found things like green tea, cucumber and charcoal. It’s the almost insignificant things like this that can ruin your day. I guess I shouldn’t complain though, it’s probably much harder for a Korean to shop for soap in North America. Can you imagine being confronted with bars that have names like Icy Blast, Ocean Surf, Arctic Mist, Fresh Rush and Aqua Sport? Those aren’t fragrances, they’re snippets of poetry. Poor immigrants, “Okay Minho, don’t panic, there’s a lot of choices, just relax and think: how would the cucumber soap play this one?”




Another little thing that gets to me here in Korea are the cookies. They taste the exact same, the only problem is, they’re individually wrapped. This is devastating to someone who’s used to eating oreos by the sleeve. I was surprised that Korea, a country which is quite environmentally conscious, would allow unneccessary packaging. While it’s bad for the environment, I must say, it’s been quite good for my waistline. Come to think of it, individually wrapped cookies might even be saving the world; coronary bypass surgery probably has a huge carbon footprint.


It must be said that not all these little Asian idiosyncrasies are bad. Koreans love to use cartoons to market things and this always makes my day a little brighter. This past weekend I stumbled across a condom vending machine that had elected to promote their product with cartoon condom characters. Carl the condom says, “Treasure your life, stop AIDS.” I think my favourite part of the composition is the couple canoodling at the base of the latex glove in the lower right corner. The guy giving a high-five to the condom is a pretty awesome touch too. I also enjoy the green, female looking condom. I don’t mean to generalize, but I think it’s safe to assume that no male would ever personify his condom as a female. I mean boats, cars and baseball gloves are obviously shes, but unless your French (because then it’s le condom), I can’t imagine a prophylactic sheath being thought of as female. Especially on the outside of a vending machine in a park bathroom.

This weekend I stayed in Seoul and spent some much needed time with my co-workers. On Saturday I decided to wander around the city and soak up some of the sights, sounds, smells and, most memorably, touches of the place I call home. After a bit of a hike I found myself walking through a market that wouldn’t pass a health inspection in North America. There weren’t many people around and besides the vendors I think I may have been the only person there. (I later discovered that a massive corporate department and grocery store had opened up in the neighbourhood, and all but ruined the once thriving bazaar). Each turn in the labyrinth like market revealed a more remote, grungier and intriguing part of the shopping area. After about an hour of exploring, I came across a small clothing stall that was selling zip-up hoodies. In this stall there were shirts hanging everywhere and clothes stacked to the roof, as there was in every clothing vendor at this market. Upon showing an interest in the merchandise, a friendly, 60 year-old, Korean man, bursting with gaiety, appeared from behind the hanging sweatshirts. He was very excited to see me, as business was slow, and asked me to come inside and peruse all of his goods. He looked up at me with his watermelon slice smile and said “bigger,” while gesturing with his hands that I was much taller than him. I corrected his English and said “Taller. Yes, I am much taller.” All the while, we were both sniggering because of the awkwardness and confusion. He then lightly grabbed my arm, pulled me closer and correctly said “taller.” At this point I thought he was trying to measure us “back to back” only “front to front.” It seemed like a plausible scenario although there was something a little awry; his hand was firmly on my butt and he was pressing me up against him. I stood there thinking that perhaps he was unaware of where his hand laid. I thought that he was probably just happy to see a foreigner that had managed to navigate his way this far into the market, and was being extremely friendly because... and that’s when his hand cupped my genitals. I politely declined, said "no, no, no, no," freed myself from his embrace and left.



Now it’s a bit of a shame that I tell this story, but it is the way of the blog and life in general. I’ve been helped, guided and directed by countless kind individuals while in this country. Why just this afternoon, a lady at the post office showed me the utmost kindness and civility, but her mannerisms are not worthy of note. Instead, it is the pejorative man who concaved my junk that is the tale to tell. Now whenever Seoul, or Asian street markets are mentioned you’ll all be quick to recall that someone you know got the Michael Jackson treatment while in a lonley stall.

With burning embers of desire,

Ian