Don’t you hate it when you’re sea kayaking in Ha Long Bay, a UNESCO World Heritage site in Quang Ninh province in Vietnam, tip your vessel when you almost crash into a gondola filled with tourists and have to use a laminated worksheet you forgot to give one of your students as a wallet? If I had dime for every time that happened...


My new wallet. Is that Hugo Boss or Armani?


Kelly and I approaching a "cave" and a gondola: see the left of image. I was too busy taking pictures of the cave to notice that we were heading straight towards this other boat. Kelly decided to avoid it by leaning over to the right. We successfully avoided the other ship in the safety of the water. This was also the last photo her camera took and the last dry moment my wallet ever knew.


We decided to try the imfamous stinky fruit. A bit of a misnomer though. It should be called repugnant and nothing more, because nothing in the fruit family should need an enema.

After Cambodia our gang took a quick trip to Vietnam and moseyed around Hanoi and the aforementioned Ha Long Bay. Hanoi was an interesting and bizarrely dichotomous city; you knew there was poverty all around you, but it you couldn’t stare it directly in the eyes and feel it suffocate your soul. It was dirty, but more so from the pollution that subsequently follows when a massive metropolis develops and advances by any means necessary. Inefficiency and disregard to the environment was abound. We decided to escape the pollution of a busy and impatient city and travel to the UNESCO site. The four of us spent two days and one night on a junk (the name given to traditional Chinese sailing ships). I am not bragging but you should have seen the size of my junk.


I returned to Korea rested and ready to attack the 65 hour work week that was rearing its ugly head for the month of January. Korean public schools are closed for an extensive period of time during the first month of the new year to presumably allow the young and overworked students a break from the bedlam that is their education system; but this is not the case. A private school, like the one I work at, jumps on this opportunity, like a pregnant woman on a jar of pickles, and decides to run an “intensive” program. So instead of allowing the students to finally enjoy some much deserved time off from learning, many young-ones are shipped off to English school where they sit in the same classroom for four hours in an attempt to instantly gain command of this ridiculous language.

For New Year’s, Kelly and I headed to the downtown area to experience the “Times Square” of Seoul. It certainly was a little pale in comparison, but amazing nonetheless. At midnight, one of the Korean gates sounded its mighty gong. As the excitement built everyone stood in the streets and launched fireworks into the crisp, New Year’s Eve sky. There were so many Roman candles being fired I think someone should consider renaming them Korean candles. I couldn’t help but reflect that an evening like this would never be possible back home; perhaps this added to the wonderment of the experience. Imagine 500,000 people able to drink legally in public, packed like smelt in a trawling net, and encouraged to launch Roman candles (being sold at the low, low price of 3 for a dollar) up into the air. Only in rule obliging Asia is such an amazing celebration able to occur.


This past weekend, a small group of us took to the slopes just outside of Seoul to enjoy some boarding and skiing. Having only been skiing once in my life, I was a little apprehensive to go and spend the day on the bunny hill by myself. But thanks to my inaugural skiing instructors wise and timeless coaching I was able to keep pace with everyone else and really embrace the slopes. Black Diamond...pff... I hear they make a nice processed cheese slice.


Without any topical introduction, the more I use a photocopier the more I am amazed with these contraptions. They’re easier to use than a self-playing piano. And when the occasional accident happens and they do in fact break down, they tell you exactly where the problem is and what you need to do to fix the situation. If only women were like that. Am I right or am I right?


To keep a jovial vibe in the teacher’s lounge during “Intensives”, Chuck, one of the latest teachers to join the SLP brigade, and I, play a game where we jot down an open ended expression that extemporaneously gets said on Monday and try to come up with as many different, and droll, endings as we can. This week I was the only male teacher at our weekly meeting for afternoon teachers, which spawned the comment:


Chuck and I on New Year's Eve

There’s more women in this room than... and this is what we’ve come up with so far (it’s Tuesday night).

• a Lilith fair concert
• at Victoria Secret on free panty day
• in Wilt Chamberlain’s little black book
• a sale at Payless
• A Sex in the City marathon in Madison Square Garden
• a Jenny Craig meeting on January 2nd
• an ammunition factory in 1945
• a town meeting on the island of Lesbo
• an Amazonian tribe
• an aquarium of pregnant praying mantis
• an OB GYN clinic
• the starting line of a 5 km walk to end breast cancer
• the line to the ladies room on opening night of The Notebook
• at a Hillary Clinton fund-raiser
• backstage at a Guns-n-Roses concert
• in Oprah’s audience
• the drawer where John Smith put all his marriage licenses


Sexily,

Dro

Angkor What!?

Somewhere between eating cow brains, feeding a monkey, riding an elephant, wearing a pair of shorts on December 25th and dining on hand-made spring rolls in a fusty and humid market the true spirit of Christmas shone through.

I must take this opportunity to announce that I have found true love. I have fallen in love with Kampuchea, the country also known as Cambodia. From the minute we stepped off the airplane I knew it was love at first sight. The people in this country are the most incredible, kind and amiable on the planet. Mark my words, I will return to this country.

I don’t have much to write for this post. I’ll just let the photos and accompanying captions say it all.


The difference between the haves and the have-nots in Siem Reap is divided along the river. The tourist part of town is on one side of the river and the rest of Cambodia is on the other side.














A sunset on Christmas eve.


Sunrise over Angkor Wat on Christmas morning. We woke up at 4:30 am to see the sun illuminate the largest religious site on the planet and the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.


Our youth hostel provided us with Santa hats and candy. They also made us a Christmas dinner complete with turkey and gravy. The very young Cambodian kitchen staff received a standing ovation (literally) for their first and very successful attempt at roasting a mighty fine bird.




Kelly and I visit an orphanage on Christmas Day. We handed out copious amounts of candy and gave away a few hackie sacks and other fun toys. This girl didn't want to let go no matter how hard we tried.




No Christmas would be complete without playing a few board games, so Kelly and I taught these two hostel workers how to play Kerplunk. Their smiles were as big as watermelon slices as they became enthralled in the game. A simple yet touching moment on our trip.


Kelly and I borrow some bikes from our hostel and took to the Cambodian countryside. The people here are genuinely happy to see you; not because you're foreign, but simply because they relish interacting with people who are members of the human-race. It was heart-wrenching to see people with so little, care so much, especially when one considers how much we in the West complain even though we have so (too) much.



Enlightened and inspired,

Ian

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.