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