A Tour of Andong

My school employees 5 teachers, all of whom are Korean. I don’t know the math teachers’ name, but Teacher Gum, Teacher Young and Teacher Kim I see regularly and occasionally eat with in the break room. They’ve all been really friendly and inviting, but we’ve never spent time together outside of work. Teacher Kim had mentioned wanting to go on a bus tour of Andong, so I took her up on the offer and went earlier this month.

Quick note, calling a teacher, ‘Teacher so-and-so’ is a sign of respect. Mr. Shin calls to all Korean teachers by his/her title, so I’ve taken his lead and do the same. He doesn’t refer to me this way, probably because he knows that’s a little weird, but whenever a teacher refers to me, it’s always as Teacher Alex. It’s like addressing a priest with Father, you would never not do so.

I go by Alex here because Alexis is a tricky name to say, the ‘x’ and ‘s’ right next to each other is difficult to pronounce even for a native speaker, so I am Teacher Alex. Often times my students will shorten it to Teacher, and I have a few kids who just call me Alex and giggle.

Back to the tour, so Teacher Kim and I agreed to meet in front of the Andong bus station on Sunday morning. Whenever we don’t have students around I call her by the English name she acquired while studying in Canada, Lindsay. As an added bonus, Lindsay’s mother joined us and it was oh so great!

Lindsay is an only-child, like many Koreans, and her father passed away nearly 10 years ago, so she stepped up and looks after her mother now. Her mom, whose name I never did catch, is an uber cute woman and super friendly. She doesn't speak a lick of English, and my limited offensive Korean hardly seemed appropriate, but we quickly became best o' friends. Her mom has a physical handicap called hyphosis, but the likelihood of anyone knowing what that is is slim, so I’ll venture into the politically incorrect arena for a time and just say hunch back.

**Funny side note, when I first wrote this part of the blog, I incorrectly called it a hump back and was unable to google any official diagnosis unrelated to whales, so originally this passage read like:

and for the life of me I can’t seem to find a politically correct way to say ‘hump back,’ and feel really bad about that, but it’s in the middle of the night and Sheena’s asleep and I don’t know who else I would ask such questions.

Well my yia-yia is also shorter than I, and I haven’t had the opportunity to be affectionate with her since I moved, so I just dolled it out on this little yia-yia (lovingly called azuma.) Luckily she was game and reciprocated all the love and affection I felt for her.

When Lindsay invited me on the tour, I figured it would last a few hours, so you can imagine my surprised to learn it was 8 hours long! Who would have thought there was that much to see in Andong! The tour was entirely in Korean, so Lindsay served as my translator, when we weren’t chatting it up ourselves.

Our first stop was over the Andong River, through a village and into the folk museum.

Apparently Andong is the largest state of Korea, though not all the land can be cultivated because it’s so mountainous. The village we walked through is the site for many Korean television drama shows, but not having watched any, I didn’t experience the same aw I did when I saw the sites of Harry Potter in England.

The folk museum was based on how Koreans had lived their lives prior to industrialization. There were displays of wedding dresses and hair decorations, traditional weaving and men’s hats, pretty much anything that was uniquely Korean. One of my favorite displays was a rock pregnant women went to worship in the hope of having a male child. I couldn’t help it, I had to take a picture. I mean, really? A gigantic wiener rock? Where else will I find this?

Every exhibit had a Korean, English and Japanese description, and there was another tour guild for the Japanese gentlemen who joined us. It was quite the international fest.

Speaking of international splendour, Lindsay informed me she will be moving to Canada next month to marry her betrothed. So she’s Korean, and he’s Persian (from Iran) and they will establish their matrimony in Canada. You just gotta adore that love story.

After the museum we went to the surrounding country and took a tour of an ancient school. It seemed more like a temple than a school, but I suppose the two are synonymous here. The school was located between a river and a mountain, and it was oh so sweet to smell the freshness of dirt and pine trees. Besides being a place full of peace, I also got some lovely photos.

The bus route twisted and turned on narrow dirt roads reminded me of the harrowing bus ventures in Greece, and that combined with my unfettered motion sickness made it an interesting journey. I just focused on keeping down my hearty breakfast, an orange and banana bought fresh from the fruit vendor I’ve been favoring lately, and looked straight ahead. Lindsay noticed the cold sweat I had broken into and commented that she was surprised to learn that anything frightened me. I didn’t bother to correct her, but quickly ate the snickers bar she offered me, and rather obscenely I should add.

The next stop was definitely one of the highlights... lunch! Lindsay’s sweet mom wanted to treat me, and remembering my Greek upbringing, I knew that not accepting would be an insult, so bring it on! And we had one of the most delectable dishes I’ve ever had. Period. It’s an Andong specialty called Jimdak, and makes my mouth water just thinking about it. It’s a spicy chicken dish mixed with rice noodles, peppers, lettuce, and countless other ingredients I’m completely ignorant about. I’m still an utter novice with Korean chopsticks. I tell you, I used to think I could handle chopstick more or less okay, but make them a little thinner, and metal, and I may as well be one of my parents trying to coax the food into my mouth. Seeing my struggle both Lindsay and her mom said it’s okay if I ate this delicious meal with my hands. What a relief.

Half way through the meal, Lindsay’s mama asked me if I drink alcohol. As a general rule I don’t, not because I’m a prude, because I’m a wimp, but it was clear she wanted some and was looking to me to be her excuse. Well, considering she missed church to come on this tour with us (apparently she never misses church) I felt compelled to say yes, so we got a vat of some kind of rice wine. It was strong and not all that pleasant, but again, remembering my Greek heritage, I felt obliged to drink at least one cup with my hosts. It was oddly intense and subtle and the same time, sweet and bitter. And as foreign as the experience was, it was also a familiar ritual I’ve participated in countless times, which made it especially welcoming.

After the rich meal, we stumbled to bus and made our way to the ancient village of Hawhei. Throughout Korea there’s the symbol of a wooden mask, kinda like a mascot. Its origins are traced to Andong, to the village of Hawhei. Andong is often referred to as the spirit of Korea, rich with cultural history and tradition. The mask is used in a traditional dance that tells the tale of Korean society.

The Mask Dance was fabulous! It was a really inviting storytelling process, and although entirely in Korean, I experienced the same emotions as my fellow Korean watchers. It was performed in an open-air theatre, and besides a few white people, there was an entire school of Japanese students. An ensemble of percussionists, and some sort of screeching trumpet, supplied the music. The dancers represented a person or group of pre-industrialized Korea. There were farmers of crops and animals, the slaying of a cow (that peed on the audience), the town fool, a beggar woman, and the aristocrats of the village. I was surprised by how funny it was, I laughed harder than I thought possible. When the beggar woman was asking for money, she refused coins, only bills. This amused everyone.

After the dance we walked about Hawhei village. In the beginning I got lost amongst the myriad of totems, which are remarkable by themselves, but then add the countless renditions of penises, and I was in a photographers heaven! If you look close, even this bloke has a penis for a nose!

Getting my fill of totem shots, we meandered about this 600 year old village, taking in the historical buildings, some of which still have residents. We saw schools and farmhouses, servant’s quarters and the like. The city was surrounded by a river, which is what Hawhei means in Chinese. When Hawhei was at it’s peak, it was under Chinese rule, hence the Chinese influence. This village was particularly wealthy and it was thought that the source of this prosperity came from the central tree in town. We made our way to pay respects to this tree. There is a custom to write your desire or dream on a piece of white rice paper, then attach it either to the tree itself or the fence surrounding the tree. Naturally, I participated, but I’m not sure about the details, so I’m not going to tell you what I wished for, you know, just in case...

The walk about the village was really pleasant. It was a nice sunny day with a cool breeze. On the outside of the town was a grove of trees that were refreshing to see. When we walked down the steep slope to the sandy beach, I grabbed azuma’s hand as an instinct. Lindsay was pleased that we had already become friends. We played on the beach some, and returned to the bus for our final destination.

It turns out there’s a cliff that looks over Hawhei. We hiked to the top of it to see a complete different perspective of where we'd just been. It was invigorating to hike again, but I was worried for my new azuma friend. My worries where misplaces however, she carried herself like a champ.

When we got to the top, the guide was speaking more Korean gibberish, so I took it upon myself to get a few of the photos I wanted, which required me to lie on my stomach at the edge of the cliff. No one knew my demean (animal soul) is actually a goat, so there was a lot of needless anxious waving of the hands, but I let them do what they had to so I could get the shots I had to get. When I returned to the group, I swatted the dirt off my hoodie and looked questioningly to everyone, and you were worried? HA! We made our decent back to the bus and away from the country.

This was the first time Lindsay and I met outside work and it was great. Her fiancé called while we were walking and spoke to me. He apologizing we never got to meet each other when he came for Christmas, but made sure to say I am always welcome to Canada if my travels bring me their way. He seems a fine man, and although I’m theoretically tolerant of people and their religious beliefs, I was relieved to learn he isn’t Muslim, and so I heartily give my stamp of approval!

I learned a few things about the school and Mr. Shin from Lindsay that are useful to know. In addition, I learned Mr. Shin likes me, which I would have more or less surmised, it’s just trixy trying to read him, though I imagine I'm just as foreign to him as he is to me. I had made a commitment not to worry about things I have no control over, such as, what does Mr. Shin think of me? But it's always nice to be well received. I guess he told Lindsay that I’m a fine teacher, bla bla bla, but what was particularly reassuring to hear was that he thinks I have a warm heart. Aww, my own little warm fuzzy! I was a little surprised by that and Lindsay mentioned not many strangers holds her mothers’ hand and directly asks her questions despite a language barrier. So, mom, dad, nouna, Kristen, you done somethin’ right, because my boss says I'm warm hearted and my new friend agrees, and I’m stickin to that story!

Korean Students vs. American Students

Right now my kids are completely frazzled! The middle school kids have midterms in a week and have been worrying about their exams for the entire month. I can’t count how many times I’ve heard, ‘Teacher! I so stressed!’ And they look it too.

So I’m writing this blog in my classroom with students who decided to stay late and get some extra studying in. I don’t mind staying late or coming in early for this, my classroom is so big and it’s way more quiet in here than in the designated study area, so...

It’s during test time that it becomes quite clear just how different American students are from Koreans. First of all, most middle school Koreans are in some kind of lesson from 8am to 11pm. Recently the President of Korea, Lee Myung-bak, decided to extend school hours to 5pm and there's been a resurgence of distain towards him. After school, some kids may go home for a snack, and then they all go straight to academy.

I’ve mentioned before that every student is in an English Academy, and normally at least 2 or 3 other academies. I’d guess about 80% of the students go to a science and math academy. Mr. Shin’s daughter, Julia, has English (of course) math, science, history, Korean, art and an instrument. Occasionally she’ll be signed up for a quick 1 month course on how to read Korean fast or something like that. This is typical for middle school students.

I work for Sky English Academy, and we have lessons from 1pm to midnight. My schedule is from 3pm to 9pm most nights, but I stay until 11pm on Thursdays. Apparently it’s ‘illegal’ to have academy lessons past 10pm, but I’m told that’s a recent law that isn’t enforced. It’s not uncommon for me to see a 12 year old kid waiting for the bus at midnight on a school night, which is slightly disturbing.

On top of this, these kids go to school every other Saturday. Oh, and did I mention, there is no recess either.

Beyond just schedule differences, American and Korean students are different in other ways. When I ask the standard patronizing question, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ 9 out of 10 kids will say scientists. Within the first month of my arrival, my sixth graders were giving 10-minute reports on D.N.A. in English. We spent a lesson or two practicing the difficult vocabulary and presentation styles. It’s really impressive how science-based this country is.

I’m not sure if it’s just my kids who are interested in science because I’m exposed to kids from wealthy backgrounds. I was aware that a lot of my kids look like they come from well-to-do parents, but it wasn’t until I took a tour with a co-worker that I found out most our kids come from a lot of money.

For example, I asked Nick what his father does and he told me he sells meat. I just thought that meant his father was a butcher or maybe a whole-seller, which surprised me because he definitely seems like he comes from wealth. I’m not sure how to explain it. He’s not snotty or anything, he’s humble and very talented, but he always exudes this air of being well cared for. I later found out that his dad owns 3 very successful restaurants in Andong and supplies the meat for most all other restaurants in town.

Many fathers are engineers here, either chemical or mechanical, and I have a fair few students who have lived in Canada or the U.S. with their families while their father’s participated in a work exchange program. I also have the children of professors, countless doctors and lawyers. I once asked a student what his father did and he used the nifty electronic dictionary every student has regardless of age, and pointed to ‘civil servant.’ I later learned he was a lawyer.

I’ve also taught kids who’ve lived abroad on their own under the age of 14. The level of commitment these parents show to their children’s education is frighteningly overwhelming.

I didn’t realize Mr. Shin owns Sky English Academy, I thought he was just the director. He has his Ph.D. in Management and Marketing, and I dare say he found a good niche with catering to affluent parents. It’s evident that economic problems are not limited to the United States, and we have experienced a drop in enrolment, but on a whole, parents are more likely keep their child in an English academy and cut back on other subjects if they are unable to maintain the cost of tuition. Sky also has a math academy, but Mr. Shin doesn’t own that portion.

This also explains why my salary is substantially higher than some of the other teachers in nearby academies. I know a handful of other foreign teachers now and I work less and make more than all of them. Who’d a thunk? I guess I lucked out.

I will say that, although luck does have a part in my tale, I turned down a number of job offers that were below my minimum requirement, and am oh so glad I did.

The academic year is also different here. It starts in March, and the kids get 3 weeks off in August and January. They still go to academy though. The little kids don’t have the same academic expectations their older siblings do. Most little boys take Taekwondo and I have a few students who take piano, violin, clarinet and ballet.

As you can imagine, this schedule doesn’t leave much free time, but on the rare occasion they have a moment to themselves, every boy will spend it in P.C. rooms. That’s where I went while my computer was sick, and besides being the only foreigner, I was often the only girl there too. It’s the primary way boys interact with their peers – they go to cyber cafes and play violent, linked video games with each other. That is their socialization. It’s a little disconcerting.

Most Koreans don’t enter the workforce until they’ve finished college, which helps explain why the average family only has 2 children. Only-children are also very common, though I do have a student who has 5 siblings. Just a couple of generations ago, Koreans had many children, because there was a greater need for manual labor, but as the country has industrialized, that need has reduced.

I’m not sure I would say one system is better than the other. As an American, I feel I received a fine education and am more or less prepared for the domestic workforce, but it’s clear American children (on a whole) are not being taught to contend against global competition. It’s obvious there’s no need for the U.S. to have the summer holiday it does. We are no longer an agrarian nation, there is no need to have more helping hands in the fields during the summer. But I’m not so sure the Korean way of educating is without flaw. Something I haven’t mentioned is the suicide rate amongst children, particularly during exam time. I have heard more than one story of children, no older than 15, jumping off a balcony together. The pressure these kids feel is very real and inescapable. But I suppose if they survive the gruelling challenge of puberty and high school, then they are destined to be the world leaders in science and technology.

On a completely unrelated note, one of my neighbors is playing music rather loudly (it’s nearly 3 am) and the person upstairs is expressing his/her displeasure by pounding on the floor. It’s oddly comforting since it reminds me of living with my dad. Awww, crazy Korean neighbors...

6 Months Already?!

Can you believe I’ve been here for six months already?! I sure can’t, and I’m the one who’s here. Over Easter I called home and my Nouna asked me what I thought about my experience so far, am I glad I came?

There was no hesitation in my reply. Yes. Absolutely. I had to come. I can’t imagine my life any other way, and that’s saying something since that’s never been the case.

It’s experiences like these that teach you a lot about yourself. One thing I’ve learned is that I’m quick to laugh and slow to anger. I also didn’t know how patient I am, not simply with loud and rambunctious kids, but also with basic human interactions and the daily experience of being misunderstood.

I also didn’t know I like kids. I knew I like the kids I’m related to, but they’re so little and cute, what’s not to love about a 3 year-old and 3 month old? But I love pretending and imagining and singing and dancing, I love being silly and uninhibited, and that’s what little kids do best.

I’ve always known I enjoy English. Words are way cooler than numbers, so I’m not surprised I enjoy teaching the subject. I even enjoy the tedious grammar lessons, although by the end of the day I normally want to pull out my hair.

The winter was a little rough, but just yesterday I took a two-hour walk around the city to see the blossoming cherry trees and people excited to be outside. My life in South Korea is great, and for this blog I thought I’d post the pictures I took yesterday and relay a few of the funny things my kids have said in these last six months.

We all know kids are hilarious, but then add a language barrier and my quirky ways to that mix, and I tell ya... I wish I had kept a record of the funny situations/predicaments/sayings, but here’s some of the more memorable ones:

Joel and Nick are really funny. Joel loves to whistle and always pretends to die when I sing along with him. The songs he whistles crack me up, and I just HAVE to break into song. Their response is to cover their ears and say, ‘No teacher, no!’ He’s whistled the theme song to Titanic, Hey Jude, the Mission Impossible theme song. Sometimes we act out a movie and the boys like to start by singing the 20^th Century Fox theme. It always surprises me how much American influence they’ve been exposed to in just the 10 years they’ve been alive. They even know Singing in the Rain.

Matthew asked me, ‘teacher drink beer?’ I was so surprised with this question all I could say was ‘why do you think that?’ ‘Face red’ and it promptly got even more red. ‘No I don’t drink beer, I just walked to work and it’s cold outside.’

I asked Joel what his birthday was and his asked, ‘Why? You try to hack my account?’ I dare you not to laugh at that.

My students always comment on my green eyes and ‘golden hair’ though of course we all know it’s just a mousey brown, but i suppose when you compare it to Korean hair it might look golden. When Nick and Joel said something about my hair I told them that I have quite a bit of grey (and it’s gotten considerably more grey since I’ve moved here.) They didn’t believe me so I showed them. They quickly screamed the word ‘Azuma’ and Joel drew an old lady with a walking cane pulling one hair out, and Nick drew a thought bubble that said ‘Oh damn!’ It was classic.

One student was making fun of another student and told him, ‘shut-up made in China.’ The other student responded by saying he was made in Japan.

I laughed when a student called a skyscraper a sky-crapper. Honest mistake, how could he have known what crap was?

One day Katie, a 15 year-old student in my advanced class, came early to ask me what a condom was. I turned various shades of red before I settled on the answer that it has to do with sex. “I know teacher, but what?’ I don’t duck the hard questions, but this was clearly one of those ‘grey’ questions, if not ‘completely-over-the-line’ questions. I hemmed and hawed and started by saying boys have penises, and she says, ‘peanut?’ and drew a peanut on the board. ‘Uh, no, not peanut.’ So I drew a stick figure of a non-gendered person, then I made a big circle around the nether-regions. ‘Boys.’ Then I drew a balloon, ‘condom.’ Luckily for me the light came on and she said in an embarrassed, but also glad to know voice, ‘oh, it covers.’ ‘Yep, it covers.' And I thought, for the love of all that’s holy, don’t ask me any other question like this, because I feel compelled to answer, but I’m just not made to teach sex-ed.

Apparently she was sent as an ambassador of sorts, because the other girls in class wanted to know what it meant too. I asked them where they heard this and they told me it was in a reading in Mr. Shin’s class. I could only wonder, what the hell he was teaching them? The girls asked Katie the meaning, but she was too shy to say it aloud, so she wrote it down on a piece of paper and I watched that paper get passed around the whole class followed my giggles.

I don't know what this window display was trying to sell, but it seemed fitting to place the image here, after the condom story :)

One lesson I asked a discussion question, have you ever had anything stolen from you? The class was silent, then a single voice range through, ‘ya, my soul.’

We were working on two-word verbs, like pull out, pick up, drop off etc. and which verbs can be separated with possessive pronouns. Joel, smart as a whip, says, ‘oh, like knock it off - that’s what you say to us sometimes.’ It’s true, I just had smile and agree. ‘Yep, just like that.’

It’s funny the things kids pick up on. Sometimes Joel is a little moody and I ask him why he’s cranky. One day a new student in class, John, was upset about something so Joel asks, ‘why are you cranky?’ And then preceded to sing the party pooper song I taught them.

‘Every party has a pooper and that’s why we invited you. Party pooper, party pooper.’

I have a student named Tyson, and he could very well be the loudest student on the face of the planet, but he's also funny and smart so... Anyway, he asked how I like Korea and I told him it's great, I love it here. He told me he doesn't like to travel because foreign food makes his stomach itchy. Yeah, my stomach gets itchy too.

Well, I’ll keep a better record of the funny things that happen in the classroom, but until then, see ya. Oh, and thank goodness it’s spring!

Cabin Fever Randomness

This post will be a compilation of all the random things I’ve wanted to say but couldn’t because they don’t fit nicely into a pre-packaged blog theme.

As you know, I arrived in Korea on October 6^th, but didn’t start teaching until October 12^th. There were a few weeks of good weather, but that soon ended, leaving me coatless with a Russian wind. The temperature here is about the same as home, the only difference is this wind. Bitter, bone chilling wind. The kind of wind that makes my teeth ache in pain and freezes my hair after a brief 3 minute walk. The kind of wind that makes me contemplate the meaning of life because I know if I stay outside for too long I will die. No questions asked. I will just simply no longer exist. That kind of wind.

So needless to say, though of course, apparently, I do have some need to say, I have not been outside more than is necessary, which has put a damper on my great plan to organize a massive student revolt here in Andong. It has also affected my ability to find, meet and befriend other foreigners. I know they’re here, my students have told me of new English teachers at their schools, but I can’t force myself outside very long. Hmm...

And just last week I thought this conundrum may be settled, but of course that was before a massive dust storm came in. I know, a dust storm! I thought that only happened in the Midwest during the 1920’s! I stand corrected. But I’m gonna keep positive that once April hits, it’ll be sunshine galore.

During the moments I feel isolated and/or homesick, I just look at the bright side of life. Hakuna Matata! Which brings me to my next point:

An Unlikely Friend

I was walking home from the grocery store one night when something fluttered in the road in an unnatural way, which of course caught my eye. And what do you think I found?! A frog! Yes, that’s right, a frog. And for those of you who don’t know, I LOVE FROGGIES!!! I can’t get enough of them. When I went to Zion Nat’l Park with my cousins Jello and Gassy Gus, it was during frog season and I caught like 20 frogs and stuffed them into my boot and limped around screaming ‘FROGGIES!’ True story. So like it or not, this little discovery and I were bound to be best friends.

I walked with this little frog in my hand, dragging my groceries behind me, and once inside the warmth called home, it occurred to me I have nowhere to put this little guy. I was already crooning to him, so he wouldn’t be scared you see, but even though our friendship was developing very quickly, I just didn’t want him to roam around my single room abode unattended. So I put him in a pot, inside my sink. He seemed a docile fella, so I didn’t think twice about it. Have you spotted the build up yet? Well, as it tends to happen, I got distracted by tv, and while my dinner was cooking in the space I call a ‘kitchen,’ the little bugger made what I can only describe as a Herculian jump, out of the pot, out of the sink, and was now doing exactly what I never wanted him to do, roaming about my small quarters. And just like that, everything that was right in the world suddenly became wrong.

Even though I had caught this wee lad, courted and betrothed my love to him, I was now terrified. Of him? Maybe. But mainly, I did not want to step on him. It was out of concern you see. I spotted him in an unreachable corner, as it tends to happen, and thought now was as good a time as any to do those dishes I’d been putting off. Really, I wanted to trick him into thinking I’d forgotten about him, and maybe the noise would startle him back into my loving embrace, but as with most plans of entrapment, this did not work. In fact, it had an opposite effect, he scurried under the cabinets and worked himself into a frenzy. By now I was imagining how my itty domicile would smell if my newfound friend died under there, and I too worked myself into a frenzy. I told him that I never had any intention of keeping him, I just wanted to take him to class tomorrow and introduce him to some of my students, but if he didn’t want to meet them, then he better march himself out so I return him to the wild streets of Andong. And that’s just what he did, so I did as I promised. I’m a man of my word you see.

Although our friendship only lasted an hour, little frogie, I love you.

It turns out there are only 2 frogs in Andong, 1 is poisonous and the other is not. He was not, but I had a 50/50 chance of needing the cunning skills of Dr. Gregory House had this not been the case.

A Few Confessions

There are a few secrets I feel obliged to share with all 12 of you, my dedicated followers. These are in no particular order, but I feel like it would be a lie not to admit these things out loud, and on the Internet, for all to see and judge as they deem fit.

1. More often than not, when I wake up, I am completely convinced I have magical powers.

I’m not just speaking of the hazy moments between dreams and reality, I mean, I’ve gotten up, gone pee-pee, and am on the computer when it occurs to me how wonderful blueberry pancakes would be for breakfast, and even though I know there is no blueberry pancake mix in my cabinets, I still take a gander because my mind is more powerful than I could ever imagine, and maybe, just maybe...

Then, 10 minutes later, I check again, you know, just in case...

2. I am constitutionally adversed to capitalization.

For the purpose of this blog I practice a little self-restraint, but aside from this little publication, I refuse to capitalize. I feel like the nouns we decide to cap are so arbitrary and I despise being told how to show a conceived form of respect. The only phrases that I willingly cap in emails are 'President Obama' and 'Elder Bavelas.' Obama for obvious reasons, he rocks, and Adam, because he's a stud. I told Adam this once in an email and he was quite flattered to be on the same playing field as our Commander-in-Chief in this deranged head of mine.

3. It’s true that I am quickly approaching the ripe old age of 30. It’s true that I am able to pay my monthly utility bills (which has oddly reaffirmed my adulthood) and it is also true that I cannot sleep without my beloved stuffed animal named Effie the Effelant.

Aw, Effie the Effelant. Effie has travelled the world with me. He has been a friend, confidant and pillow in times of need. In the private moments of our slumber I am always aware of the exact positioning of his little trunk sos he can breathe properly. True story.

A little known fact about Effie is that he is in fact a hermaphrodite. I have told him that that is not a politically correct phrase these days, that he is ‘intersex’ and saying hermaphrodite is like calling a Black person a Negro or an Asian person Oriental, but he insists on hermaphrodite, and I figure, eh, who am I to argue?

4. I haven’t yet decided, but I see a promising future as a pirate, ghost-buster or lunch lady.

This is actually why I went to business school. I thought, what better way to learn the ways of pirating than attend Westminster’s Gore School of Business? It was a wise choice. Do you want fries with that? And of course I’m a nut for mystery and adventure, so ghost-busting seems like a natural course of action. I will use my time here to think on it a bit more, arrrrr!

5. This one is especially hard to admit, but here goes nothing: I am a fan of American Idol. There is said it, and it feels so good to get that off my shoulders!

Before moving out here I’d never seen a complete episode of this bloody show. My cousins raved about it, people spoke of the contestants like friends or family members, but other than a brief clip of the exceptionally bad performers, I had absolutely no desire to see it. Then I came to Korea, and I guess that means I start watching American Idol? Well it would seem so.

I’ll tell you what got me hooked. They had these promos on which city they’d be visiting and I saw Salt Lake was in the midst, so it peeked my curiosity. Then I glimpsed those mountains that mean home, and sat through an entire episode for the first time. Even though I’d never seen an episode, of course I know who Adam Lambert is and was even more interested to see his ‘legendary’ performances.

So that’s my deep dark secret. Ah, what a load off!

My Own Personal Fan

I am often greeted by smiling children saying hello as I walk to and fro, but adults rarely do anything other than stare at me. Because of this, the first time I encountered what can only be described as the town drunk, I was convinced his ecstatic salutation was meant for anyone other than me. Nope. It was for me. Whenever he sees me he rushes to shake my hand, which is definitely not a standard greeting, and mumbles the few English words he knows. Once he walked me to his friend who sells apples, so a bought a few and now he’s my apple guy.

There are times I am in a hurry and have to duck out of the way to make it to class, and then there are days I go out of my way to be recognized by the only member of my personal fan club. Seriously, this guy always cheers me up, I’ve never met anyone so excited to see me. It’s great!

Welcome to the Monkey House

This is the last bit of random information that doesn’t quite fit into any preconceived theme on this here blog, and it’s about my neighbors. I live on the 2^nd floor of this building, and there are 6 studio apartments on this floor. Besides the out-of-place American who lives in 203, there are some notably eccentric residents. My neigbors who live just right of me are apparently together for all the wrong reasons because they never stop fighting!

I can’t count how many times I’ve woken up to shattering glass and yelling, the girl is a screecher you see. Apparently they have no appreciation of proper sleep cycles either, because it doesn’t matter if it’s 2am or 5:42am, they yell as loud as they see fit. It was actually this that prompted me to learn a few explanatives in Korean, but I’ve yet to use this helpful skill. They were gone this last week and it was an oh-so-sweet-heaven, but they’re home now so...

Occasionally I chat with the foreign teachers who used to work for Mr. Shin and was told these people have been fighting like this for over 2 years, which makes me speculate about the causes of this incessant battle. Maybe he drinks, maybe her mother-in-law hates her, maybe he’s a player, maybe she has a degenerative brain condition, who knows? All I know is, as annoying as it is, it’s also oddly comforting, like a sound of home. Weird huh?

My other neighbor is quite colourful also. Some of you may or may not know I have a very odd sleep cycle, and that combined with the echoing effect of the stairwell, allows me to decipher when and what neighbors come home. For the last few months I had a few suspicions about the girl living two apartments left of me, but now, I can say without a doubt, she is indeed a lady of the night!

The first clue was how late she comes home, apparently only to leave, then return home again. She wears high heels so her echo is rather distinctive. Then I got a look at her business attire, and even though my hair would freeze from the wicked wind outside, she was wearing a short mini-skirt, no tights, and a skimpy shirt. The thing about Koreans is, I've never seen a scantily clad woman unless she's working a corner, so that, along with my keen observation skills, and the confirmation of a previous teach, all tells me she is a woman of the night. Aw, all this 'real life' experience! Invaluable I say!

Well that’s all for now. Oh, except, Happy Birthday Papa and Jello! Mmmm, jell-o...

Book Review: 'The Brothers K'

As long as I’ve been in Korea, I’ve wanted to do a brief book report on each book I read. As you can see, I’m behind. Nearly 5 months behind, so I will begin retroactively and start with the first book I read here, ‘The Brothers K’ by David James Duncan.

I am so appreciative that this is the book I began when I moved here. The theme is good ol’ America from about 50’s – 70’s. It was especially comforting to know that no matter how far from home I am, the feeling of home can be reached within a paragraph or two.

This book would be just as phenomenal if I hadn’t just moved across the world, but since I had, it offered a kind of nostalgia only David Duncan can make, especially since I’ve never lived through the time periods he writes about.

‘The Brothers K’ is transporting. The premise is simple enough, it’s about a family. That’s it. It tells the tales of one family and within the pages of description you might find your own family, or the neighbors’ family, or the family you always wished you had. It has all the details of what makes a family real. The characteristics of family members that are endearing, but more often than not, are a nuisance, which kinda makes them endearing. It describes the brother who talks louder to win an argument, or the sister who looks at life with scientific goggles, the quiet and easy to forget brother (who narrates this tale) and the genius brother that wishes he was a little more like his father and a little less like Einstein. A church fanatical mother who uses church to rip the family apart and play siblings against each other, and an athletic and loving father whose life turns upside down after a rather ordinary mill accident. But through each person's perspective, the individual celebrations of personalities and development, baseball is the component that allows this staggeringly different family from completely forgetting each other. Baseball holds them together in a way God, love or any other soul felt experience couldn’t. Baseball. Which, I suppose, is why it’s as American as you can get, even when eating intestinal soup with ramen noodles in a room where I am the only person whose eyes are as big dimes. And so this book quickly made it to the top of my ‘favorites’ list.

This is a book made me laugh out loud and within 10 minutes I’d be crying. My emotional response was so powerful. I feel connected and protective of every character, and even though the baseball rhetoric can be thick at times, each story is so sincere that it became engrained in my every day life. Usually I’m not one to write in the margins of a book, I get too caught up in the story, but I had to with this book, if only to highlight specific passages here in my blog. So here are a few (dozen) of my favs -- bare in mind these quotes are taken completely out of context, and I’m doing my best not to give anything away.

‘...whenever it’s really hot Elder Babcock’s sermon—even if it starts out being about some nice quite thing like the poor or meek or weak—will sooner or later twist like a snake its head run over to the unquiet subject of heaven and hell, and who all is going to which, and how long you’ll have to stay, and what all will happen to you when you there, and he goes on so loud and long and the air gets so used up and awful that bit by bit you lose track of any difference between his heaven and his hell and would gladly pick either over church.’

‘Vic Power, the Indians’ Negro first baseman, is the hitter. It’s weird to see a big black man like Power getting called an ‘Indian.’ Come to think of it, it’s pretty strange to see a bunch of white guys running around calling themselves ‘Indians’ too. How are real Indians supposed to feel about this? I mean, what if there was a team of white guys, with an Indian first baseman, called ‘the Cleveland Negroes’? It’d make exactly as much sense. Better yet, what if there was a team of Negroes and Indians called ‘the Cleveland White Guys’? I think a lot of pale-faced folks wouldn’t be all that thrilled.’

‘I give him everything from my lunches I hate, which is called Charity.’

‘And Bet, who spent a whole day making a Christmas card for Uncle Marv and Aunt Mary Jane last year, then got so proud of the card that she refused to mail it to anybody but herself. ‘That’s the Christmas spirit!' Everett told her.’

‘Thus did my siblings and I learn one of the hard lessons of life: the best way to strip the allure and dreaminess from a lifelong dream is, very often, simply to have it come true.’

‘This A.M. bodily maintenance project was soon dubbed ‘the ABCDE.’ His mind was so adrift that the acronym’s meaning would change now and then, but generally it stood for something like ‘Another Brainless Clone’s Diet Effort’ or ‘Amorphous Blob Cooks Detritus for Evertt.’ What didn’t change much was the ritual itself: the ABCDE began with three boiled eggs, cooked sometimes too soft, sometimes too hard, almost never just right. Everett loathed overly soft eggs and he loathed overly hard ones, but since his A.M. mind couldn’t keep track of time without its morning coffee, and since coffee gave him heartburn on an empty stomach, he had to eat eggs before he could drink the coffee. So every morning he mistimed, miscooked and disliked them. He’d tried fried eggs for a while. But whenever he’d burnt them (which had been almost daily) he went through hell trying to clean his cast-iron skillet afterward. With boiled eggs, if the shells didn’t break (or what the heck, even if they did), the hot water for his coffee was ready just as soon as he spooned the eggs out and the pan was as good as clean as soon as the coffee got poured out into his cup. Clever. For an Amorphous Blob.

Everett drank drip coffee only. Percolated, cowboy or instant gave him even worse heartburn than drip, adding milk didn’t help, and Canadians hadn’t yet discovered the cappuccino and the like, so black drip it was. He also tried fixing toast to accompany the eggs now and then. Since he had no toaster he had to use his gas oven, and since he used it in the midst of his pre-coffee stupor, he usually burnt the toast to cinders. Even if he didn’t burn it he seldom ate it, because he didn’t like toast unless it was hot and served with coffee and he couldn’t have it with coffee yet, because his eggs were still boiling in his coffee water, and by the time he got the eggs shelled and salted and peppered the toast was stone cold. But he liked to make toast anyway, if only because by operating the gas oven in the midst of his pre-coffee stupor he daily stood a very real chance of dying.

Death. By all sorts of means. This was a topic Everett contemplated long, hard and none too carefully on these dank gray-hued late-winter mornings. Stumbling round the kitchen, not comprehending time, he would fix and consume his preposterous breakfast till the eggy coffee did its work and his literacy kicked in. Then he’d start to read whatever printed words or numbers his eyes lit upon. Not Russian novels; not books; not even magazines or newspapers. Thought, literature, informative writing of all kinds—these were for suckers. Because they all tried to give life meaning. But once your life had the acquired meaning, all it really meant was that you’d doomed yourself to hurt like a twice-hammered thumb once Unmeaning came along, as it always does, and knocked the teeth, brains and stuffing out of your puny meaning. All Everett required each morning, thank you, were some random household objects with a few meaningless words printed on the to add a little fuel to his contemplations of death...’

*Side note, if this book had a movie rating, it would be rated R for strong language and adult content, just in case you care about that kinda of thing...

Japanese vs. Turks

The topic today is Korean Independence, which is celebrated on March 1^st. This is often referred to as the March 1^st Movement, and like most movements, began with a declaration. A Buddhist monk and writer collaborated to draft the Korean Declaration of Independence, which was then ratified by the leaders of the revolution and a copy sent to the Japanese Governor General.

‘We herewith proclaim the independence of Korea and the liberty of the Korean people. We tell it to the world in witness of the equality of all nations and we pass it on to our posterity as their inherent right.

We make this proclamation, having back of us 5,000 year of history, and 20,000,000 of a united loyal people. We take this step to insure to our children for all time to come, personal liberty in accordance with the awakening consciousness of this new era. This is the clear leading of God, the moving principle of the present age, the whole human race’s just claim. It is something that cannot be stamped out, or stifled, or gagged, or suppressed by any means.’

As far as declarations go, I think we can agree this had some umph to it, and after Chung Jae-yong read this publicly to massive crowds in Seoul, a procession formed. And with any movement with a valid voice, the police attempted to suppress it. The result was 7,000 massacred Koreans.

The March 1^st Movement was the catalyst for the establishment of the Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea and influenced the non-violent resistance in India. It changed the way the Japanese dealt with the Korea even though Korean independence wasn’t achieved for another 26 years.

So what was so bad with Japanese rule, you may be asking yourself, and you’d be perfectly normal to wonder that, after all, I thought the same, which is what prompted me to do a bit of research on the subject. That, and the way my students loathe the Japanese. See, they’re mostly a loving group, so it took me aback when I heard the tone and expressions that reminded me of the way I’ve heard old-school Greeks talk about Turks.

The Japanese occupation of Korea lasted from 1910-1945 and has often been described as cultural genocide because of the suppression of Korean national identity and language. One way this was accomplished was by altering public monuments, including temples, palaces, scripts, memorials and statues. Songs and poems originally dedicated to Korean Emperors were re-written to adore the Japanese Emperor. The Chinese characters where modified on carved monuments so the their meaning would change. The Japanese colonial authorities destroyed 85 percent of all the buildings in the Korean Royal Palace, as well as assassinating the Empress, and burned Korean history books. Many cultural artefacts were destroyed to taken to Japan and remain there still.

Before the Japanese rule of Korea, education was a privilege for aristocrats only. The Japanese changed this by introducing universal education, though the classes focused mostly on teaching the history of the Japanese Empire as well as glorifying the Imperial House of Japan. Korean history was not part of the curriculum. As in Japan itself, students were made to worship at the school’s Shinto shrine regardless of their religious beliefs, and bow before portraits of the Japanese Emperor. After 1930 all classes were taught in Japanese and the use of Korean was forbidden in all schools and businesses. Many Koreans adopted Japanese surnames to avoid discrimination and harassment.

Many Korans also became victims of war crimes. Villages found hiding resistance fighters were dealt with harshly, often with summary execution, rape, forced labor, preventable famine and looting.

There is a term called ‘comfort women’ that refers to the forced prostitution of the Korean women for Japanese soldiers during WWII. I’ve heard it’s estimated that 200,000 women were kidnapped and taken to Japan, but it’s hard to get an official number because the Japanese refuse to acknowledge this and the surviving women are dying. My friend Val met a woman who experienced this, she was in her 80’s, and told some intense stories. She said that when she tried to run away she would be beaten severely, and the bottoms of her feet were tortured so she couldn’t walk, let alone run. Val said the thing that stood out the most about this woman was how positive her outlook on life was, and even though her many years of forced prostitution left her barren, she married a man who already had a daughter and was able to be mother. It sounds like although this horrible thing happened to her, it was not the defining event of her life, which is an attitude we can all learn from.

So why had I not heard any of this before? Why do people believe Koreans still eat dogs and are poor and uneducated? History. History has a way of rewriting itself, a fact that has only been more illuminated as I continue to read Howard Zinn’s, “A People’s History of the United States.’

Japan altered history to rationalize the occupation of Korea to the international community. They depicted Koreans as backward and in need of modernization by only showing photos of the impoverished. Japanese history is something I often hear my students criticizing. For example, Koreans were used as test subjects in human experiments with liquid nitrogen and biological weapons. Though vivid and disturbing testimonies have survived, the Japanese government largely denies them.

One way both North and South Korea has boycotted Japan was by banning Japanese products. It wasn’t until 1998 that the boycott was gradually lifted in South Korea. Some Japanese cultural items, including anime and music, have been introduced into South Korea even while they were banned, though Koreans didn’t know they were Japanese in origin.

Twenty years after the end of WWII, South Korea and Japan re-established diplomatic relations with the 1965 signing of the Treaty on Basic Relations. The details of this treaty were kept secret for 40 years. Documents show that Japan provided 500 million dollars in soft loans and 300 million in grants to South Korea as compensation for its occupation. It was also revealed that the South Korean government assumed the responsibility for compensating individuals with lump sum and rejected Japan’s proposal for direct compensation. However, the South Korean government used most of the loans for economic development and have failed to compensation to the victims adequately, paying only about $300 per death to their relatives.

It should also be mentioned that several Japanese Prime Ministers have issued official apologies. Koreans welcomed the apologies at the time, but now view the statements as insincere.

I have a few students who clearly look like they have Japanese ancestors, and I’m often on guard to see if these students are ever mistreated. Luckily I’ve never seen any form of discrimination, which is a comfort.

When March 1^st came, I asked my students to explain the holiday to me. I got simple answers from some students, freedom, independence, but all of them spoke of a girl, a hero, named Yu Gwan Soon. She was a young student, who at 19 years old, waved the Korean flag in public and was tortured and executed, along with all of the members of her family. I wasn’t able to find out what year this happened, but the interesting thing about this story is that, in all the articles I read about the March 1^st Movement, and the history of Korean independence, there was not one mention of this girl. Not a single citation, yet every single one of my students knew her story. It made me wonder...

And since we’re on the subject, here’s a bit about the S. Korean flag:

The Korean flag is called Taegukki. Its design symbolizes the principles of the yin and yang in Eastern philosophy. The circle in the center of the flag is divided into two equal parts. The upper red section represents the positive cosmic forces of the yang. Conversely, the lower blue section represents the negative cosmic forces of the yin. The two forces together embody the concepts of continual movement and the balance and harmony that characterize the sphere of infinity. The circle is surrounded by four trigrams, one in each corner. Each tripgram symbolizes one of the four universal elements: heaven, earth, sun and moon. I have also read that they represent the four seasons, the four compass points, the four elements, and express the principle of the movement of all objects in the universe and the moment of the universe itself.

The white color of the background stands for the peace and purity of the Korean people who have loved to wear white colored clothes and have been called the white-clad nation.