Kim Jong Il is the new Chuck Norris.

Check out this AWESOME (and historical!) video from North Korea.

Of course, they left out the part about how the tsunami a couple years ago was caused by Kim Jong Il farting and sneezing at the same time.  (It's a bit of an embarrassment to the Dear Leader.)

Ironic toilet paper.

I've never been able to find paper towels in Korea.  Not anywhere--and I've looked.  Instead, Koreans use toilet paper (well....they call it "tissue") for everything: as toilet paper (duh), as napkins, as paper towels...everything.  In our bathrooms at school, there's even a big roll of toilet paper for you to dry your hands with.  And that works REALLY well, of course...as long as you don't mind little bits of wet toilet paper clinging to your hands.

Yesterday, we were running out of toilet paper in the apartment.  I mean, we were getting REALLY close to the end of the last roll.  I'd been avoiding buying it because I bought the last pack, but I didn't want to be caught without toilet paper, so I went out and bought some.  And a couple hours later, the next time nature called, I opened my new pack of toilet paper--AND IT WAS PAPER TOWELS.  They were even the short, half-sheet kind!  My favorite!

Of COURSE: when I finally find paper towels in Korea, what I really want is toilet paper.  Figures.

Adventures in Grading, part....3? 4?

Around school these days, the hulking, insidious figure of the Kangnam Speech Contest is looming before us.  Every student has to prepare something: the most upper-level students will write essays, the babiest of the babies will answer interview questions and talk about their current storybook, and there are various gradations in between.  When I wrote my September syllabi, I didn't know the speech contest was imminent, so the last week or so has been a super-fun (.....) omelet of rearranged schedules and overstuffed class periods.

My third-grade science class, which is one of my favorites, prepared the first part of their speeches and turned them in to me on Friday.  I was just grading one of them--Christopher's--when I had a laugh-out-loud grading moment.  I've reproduced it exactly; homeboy did a bang-up job.  I'm not gonna tell you which part made me laugh, though; see if you can guess.   ;)

Hello, my name is [redacted, yo].  my English name is Christopher.  I am in third grade.  I have been studying English for four years.  I went to the US with my family.  [ed. note: I just found out--like, a week ago--that he lived in Chapel Hill last year.  An hour and a half from me!  Crazy!  Anyway...onward.]  I learned English a lot there and made American friends.

My hobby is reading books.  I always read books when it is rest time.  One of my favorite book is Series of unfortunate events by Lemony Snicket.I like it because it is adventurous, risky and odd.  If you want to be unfortunate, read this book but you will have fun.

Time: so noted.

            Every year since I was about 13 or so, I've been marking three particular days in my mind.  It's become a bit of a private ritual for me, and it helps me perceive a bit of perspective and rhythm in the passing of time.  On each of those days, I get a bit reflective and appreciative.  For me, the rest of the year pivots around those three anchors; they keep me mindful and re-engage me in the meta-experience of life.

* * * Spring * * *

            The first of those special days usually falls in late February--at least, it does in Atlanta: it's the first day the daffodils bloom.  I've adored daffodils since I was a little kid, and for several very good reasons.  I love that they're the very first vestige of spring.  The weather begins to warm, but you don't think about it.  It seems like just another temperature fluctuation, and you don't recognize the weather's springward vector.  Then one day you leave the house, and WHAM--it's the daffodils' opening day!  That moment, for me, feels like an army of four-year-olds rushing at me and hugging my knees in a fit of rapturous abandon.  GORGEOUS.

            Some years, I happen to notice the buds poking out of the ground a few days before the big moment.  In some ways, it disappoints me; it takes away some of the magic of the big reveal.  But at the same time, it provides me with a different kind of warm-and-fuzziness.  It's like sitting in the audience five minutes before the lights go down and catching a glimpse of the little kids you've come to see stealing nervous glances around the side of the curtain.  When the buds reveal themselves to me prematurely, I feel like I've been made privy to a thrilling secret by an excited little kid who--let's face it--didn't have a prayer of keeping the secret much longer anyway.  It charms me to the core.

            Whether or not the buds spoil the surprise, the first day the daffodils bloom is absolutely magical to me.  And the very best part is that there are more of them every year!  You plant some bulbs once, and every successive year, even more beatific little cups-and-saucers appear, as if ready for a tea party.  They require no maintenance; they're just thrilled to show up to work each spring, and they'll stand there grinning and waving at you for weeks.  Supposedly that proverb about March coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb came from the locations of Leo and Aries at that time of year, but I don't care.  In my mind, the proverbial March lion has an exuberant six-pointed mane and a trumpeted orange snout.

            Good LORD, how I love daffodils.

* * * Summer * * *

            The second day every year that stands out for me is the first day I see fireflies.  Where I come from, those drunken little lanterns start stumbling around on Mother's Day, plus or minus a week, and they too signal the turning of the season.  But they also ride in on the breeze of another equally magical change: twilight.  Have you ever noticed that?  You never see the first fireflies of the season at night; it's always at twilight.  At that time of year, the weather has been warmish for a couple weeks, but you haven't gotten to enjoy most of the best parts of the summer.  It's not hot enough to swim yet, the school year is still in its stressful final throes, and vacation seems like a privilege that--for drones like you--exists only in fantasies.  But oooh, those summer evenings, with their zaftig twilight.

            The planet plods steadily along its orbit, and by the time the fireflies have fully slept off last year's hangover, the vernal equinox is six weeks in our past.  Six weeks!  Somehow, daylight has been trumping darkness for six weeks already; maybe it's just been too rainy for us to notice.  But sure enough, as the earth chaînés toward the summer solstice, the days grow longer, and a curious thing befalls us.  Well...it befalls me, at least.  And it never fails.

            Sometime during the winter, the sunset becomes my productivity Zeitgeber.  Every day, I'll spend the late afternoon slacking off...but inevitably, my dull-as-a-dishrag supervisor, sunset, comes sniffing around my cubicle.  And begrudgingly, like most disgruntled employees, I decide that gainful employment (well...in my case, it's education) is something I probably ought to hang onto.  So I heave a pained sigh and resign myself to my work.  Such is my pattern all winter.

            But long about March, my supervisor-slash-slavedriver begins to make his rounds a little bit later every day.  Accordingly, I enjoy a couple more minutes of procrastination each day before darkness and his shrewish wife, cold, show up to ruin my fun.  But soon enough, there comes a day when I notice that--how did that happen??--suddenly it's 8pm, and I haven't even thought about that paper due tomorrow.  Whoopsie!  While I wasn't paying attention, my dull supervisor has morphed into a cranky toddler.  And that toddler...well.  Her bedtime is An Event.  The ritual begins later every night, and it it lasts longer, too.

            By the time we flip the calendar page to May, sunset has become its very own segment of the day.  No longer a discrete barrier between daylight and darkness, sunset is now best characterized by the romantic (and completely diva-licious) term twilight.  We've taken three-quarters of a perisolar journey since summer, and we've forgotten just how lovely twilight can be.  To wit: inspired by the mild temperature and pleasant heaviness of the air when they arrive home from work, people do silly, antiquated things like eating dinner on their porches (gasp!) and taking evening walks with their families (egad!!).  It's then--somewhere near the halfway point between equinox and solstice--when the cold and the day-swallowing darkness finally admit their defeat and allow themselves to be stuffed into trunks in the attic.  For a few months, anyway.  The only thing is, when the last chill is over and we're in the home stretch toward summer, I never seem to notice it.

            But you know who does notice it, of course.

            The fireflies.

            That's why the first fireflies of the year thrill me like they do.  For the most part, all the things that make spring spring and summer summer bleed into each other so seamlessly that I don't even perceive the balance shift.  But when those long-dormant fireflies rub their eyes, smack their sleep-sticky lips, and lift drowsily into the air--right then is when the passage of time becomes salient.  That's when summer becomes imminent.

            When the fireflies first take to the air, most of the festivities that make summer so deliriously delicious are still a few weeks off.  "But"--with a nod to a felicitous treatise by history's greatest philosophers, Olsson and Zuko--"oh, those summer nights."  In most people's schemas of "summer," the most prominent characteristics are probably the highly photographable ones: vacations, fireworks, pool parties, and so on.  But whence cometh the joie de vivre required to finance such photogenic frolicking?

            I contend that it comes from lovely, syrupy summer twilight.  And lest we be too busy or stressed or cranky to notice the glamorous yearly makeover of twilight, there are whole herds of arthropods with glowing butts who are there to herald it.  How painfully wonderful is that?

* * * Fall * * *

            My third anchor day--the third day each year when the passage of time is pungently salient to me--happens in late September.  September might be my very favorite month, as it's saturated with all kinds of good things: playgrounds, birthday parties, fresh starts, nostalgic endings, bouquets of freshly-sharpened pencils.  But my favorite thing about September is its sense of promise and anticipation.  Nineteen years as a professional student have molded my life into a permanent circannual rhythm that begins when the school year begins; consequently, the ninth month feels much more like the first month than the first month does.  From my current perch, September 28th, I can see for miles ahead of me.  There's something about the limitlessness of that future that makes me overflow with contentment.  You know what I'm talking about...that sitting on the front porch, glass of lemonade, watching the sunset kind of contentment.

            September holds all kinds of promise, and that's enticing enough.  But beyond that, it also happens to straddle my two favorite seasons.  If I had my way, every month would begin in the summer and end in the fall; it's really quite a perfect arrangement, don't you think?  And that exact moment when summer reclines into fall, as I'm sure you've guessed, is my third little anchor.

            It's probably the smell of rotting leaves; I don't know for sure.  I suppose it's a bit macabre that the smell of death fills me with such bliss.  But whatever the actual molecule is, the first time it alights on my nose's chemoreceptors, I nearly pee my pants with excitement.  The smell of fall!  The smell of swingsets and trick-or-treating and fireplaces and pumpkin pie and back-to-school sales!  That smell is like the soundtrack (smelltrack?) to my favorite movie: it's the plot, the characters, and the setting that I fell in love with, but it's been boiled down and concentrated until it's so potent that the tiniest hint is all I need (and, under the right circumstances, it's almost all I can bear).  It's so potent that for a split second, it commands all my attention.  Every year there's a particular day when it first smells like fall, yet every year, the experience almost knocks me off my feet.  For me, that first fall smell--and the crisp wind that brings it--are the perfect harbingers of fall and its attendant excitement.

            So far this year, two of my three time fulcrums have come and gone. I don't know if fall in Seoul will have the same smell to it--there are far fewer trees here than anywhere else I've lived, and they're of different varieties--but I'm anxious to find out.
            Two days ago, we had the first chilly morning since I've been here, and it arrived quite suddenly. It was one of those mornings where you open your front door, say "good lord!" and retreat inside for a costume change. (Well...that's hyperbole. But it was quite surprising nonetheless.) And today, I spent the remarkably beautiful afternoon outside grading papers...but by the time the sun set, my beflip-flopped toes and holey-jeans-clad legs were screaming at me to go inside already. Y'all, it was COLD! I hope that familiar smell of fall comes to Seoul, and I hope it comes soon. There's a swingset I've had my eye on for weeks, and decaying foliage filling my nose would provide the perfect circumstances for trying it out.

* * * Winter * * *

            In case you were wondering, there is no prototypical moment that I mark for winter.  The reason is probably a combination of the insidiousness of its onset and, of course, its utter lack of redeeming qualities. (Another potential reason: my vitriolic hatred of winter and its stupid, stupid cold weather. That might be related...)

* * * * * *

            Time is inevitable and adamant in its progress, of course.  (Bob Dylan told me so.)  I can't fully understand the scale of time, let alone control it.  But despite that, three times a year, I'm blindsided by a wonderful opportunity: the opportunity to be boosted out of my myopic vantage point and glimpse the passage of time on a grander scale.

            The first day the daffodils bloom, the first day I see fireflies, and the first day it smells like fall have become little treasures I collect each year.  Those particular days are sentimental for me, but I don't think their selection is entirely idiosyncratic.  Change is acutely tangible on those three days.  They lie tangent to the march of time.

            I gain a bit of perspective on those three days, and that perspective becomes richer with each additional year that I undertake this little mind exercise.  Being mindful of those days somehow makes me feel centered.  It invites me to pause for a minute and just observe...observe and connect.  And that mindfulness has taught me to be more appreciative of the beautiful little moments that bloom in the cracks of daily life.  

My lovely walk to school

I'm moving this weekend...hopefully.  I've got syllabi and report cards to write (I LOVE the end of the month!  PSYCH), plus various other things to do, so I may not have time to move until this coming week.  But no matter when I get around to it, I'll soon be leaving my temporary apartment and settling into my new place.  Woohoo!

I'm looking forward to living with Kyle; we're two peas in the same dorky pod.  I've written about him before...he's the one whose nerdiness is strikingly similar to my own nerdiness.  And it'll be nice to be settled in for the year so I can start putting up pictures on the walls and generally domesticating my living space.  That said, I'll also miss my current apartment.  It's a .3-mile walk to school (as opposed to maybe .6 miles--OH THE HUMANITY), but the biggest reason involves the things I see on my walk to and from school everyday.

About two-thirds of my walk involves winding my way through my complex of high-rise apartment buildings.  Due to the amount of foot traffic, people set up booths and sell things almost every day.  I've seen furniture, produce, socks (a whole booth full of them!), shoes, bedding, raw seafood, clothes, and cooked meals.  As I mentioned recently, it's really quite delightful to step out of my building and find out what's for sale today.

Since I'm moving soon, I realized that I needed to take a video soon of the daily mini-market.  I'd been contemplating how or whether to capture it, since I didn't want to be that rude person who walks by video-taping you.  As a trade-off between that concern and wanting to share that lovely slice of morning with you all, I took a short video with my camera held near my belly-button as I walked.  It's a bit shaky and poorly-aimed, but I hope you can get the idea.  There's more market-ness further along, but I just got the first part.

Enjoy!  :c)

I'm going to Estonia in my mind....

I woke up from quite a vivid dream this morning.  I don't often remember my dreams, so remembering it at all was an event in and of itself...but oooh, there was so much more to it!  In my dream, I had been on my way somewhere (I can't remember if I was flying or taking a train or what), and I woke up and was in this old raggedy city built onto a hill.  I thought "I THINK I was going to Estonia....right?  This must be Estonia.  I think.  Or maybe Bulgaria?  But I think Estonia."

So I'm wandering around the street, trying to figure out where I am and what I should do next.  And I run into this other native English-speaker who's talking really loudly (as native English-speakers in foreign countries are wont to do) and he says he'll help me out.  I don't actually remember what we talked about, but there was this apartment thing with gold steps (!) across the street, and we were sitting on a little covered walkway in front of a building next to some giant kettle thing.  Then this lady came over holding a giant smoldering coal in some tongs, and she reached over me with it (eek!) and stuck it into a lantern hanging on the wall.  She went around the rest of the street lighting the lanterns that same way.

A little bit later, we got up (for reasons I can't remember) and started walking down the street and down the hill.  And we passed ANOTHER house with gold steps!  I'd thought that the first one must belong to the prime minister or something, but apparently the occasional person in Estonia-or-maybe-Bulgaria just happens to have gold steps.  And there was a wooden door to the alcove/porch thing of the house, and everyone who passed knocked a couple times on the door.  Oh--and all of us were walking down the hill, by the way.  So we get to the end of the street and there's a set of stairs, and we go down those...and it turns out we're going down to the sea!  Aah...that explains the steep hill.  On the second-to-last step, the letters ESTONIA are painted in white.  So that solves that mystery!  Thanks, totally unnecessary painted step!

Then, someone said that we all needed to wade across this shallow cove to the opposite shore, although I'm not sure why.  And it was cold, yo!  And I was wearing sneakers, which were going to get all wet!  But I did it, and when I was almost all the way across there was a sudden drop-off, and I was in up to my chest.  My giant orange purse had been unzipped, and all my stuff dumped out of it into the murky water--aack!  But my native English-speaker friend helped me collect the purse, most of the contents of which were still inside, and we spread it out on a rock to see if it was all there.  My passport was there (although I'm a safety queen and always wear a money belt...unless I'm dreaming, apparently), as was my digital camera (still works!) and my laptop (also still works--but again, why the poo was I carrying it in my purse in a foreign country?!)  But my wallet was missing!  OH NO!  Plus, my new friend said that he didn't see my "very favorite possession in the world," which I had apparently showed him earlier, though I couldn't remember what it was.  So I started frantically searching the cold, murky water for my wallet and my very favorite possession....and then I woke up!

WHAT THE POO?

(Incidentally, I have heard positively glowing reviews of Estonia from several friends who went there a few years ago.  It's supposed to be extremely friendly, extremely beautiful, and extremely cheap to travel in.  Yet in my dream, it was extremely gray, extremely depressing, and extremely foreign.  Go figure.)

Star Wars Episode III: Backstroke of the West

I came across a story about some deliciously bad subtitles on a Chinese pirated DVD and I just HAD to pass it along to you.

People who will especially love it:

--fans of Engrish

--fans of Star Wars

--fans of anything amusing

People who will not love it:

--people who cannot read

--people who don't speak English

--sourpusses

Please click accordingly.   :c)

So you want to teach English in Korea?

A friend of a friend e-mailed me this morning to ask about teaching in Korea.  She's thinking about coming here and was asking for my expertise.  (And o, how extensive that expertise is!  For I have spent two whole months here.  I pretty much know everything there is to know about this place.  Except, you know, the language.)

Anyway!  I thought it might be useful to post my reply to her on my blog.  When I was researching Korea and TEFL, I happened upon several blogs that had useful information.  So for anyone who happens to...um...happen upon my blog in their quest for knowledge, I thought I might offer up a little advice.  Plus, it might be interesting to my loyal readers back home to know how my thoughts about this job market are running these days.  Or not.  But maybe!  Or maybe not.  We'll see.

For the purposes of Google searches, I shall now say many meaningless things that might make this entry more find-able for someone who could use it: teaching English in Korea, what to pack for Korea, things to bring with you to Korea, TEFL in Korea, TESL in Korea, advice on living in Seoul, teaching abroad, thinking about teaching abroad, teaching ESL in Korea, teaching EFL in Korea.  Ok, there...done!

Here's the e-mail.  Enjoy!  Or maybe don't.     :c)

Hi!

How exciting that you’re looking into coming to Korea!  It is quite an interesting place, for sure.  I have a lot of work to do this morning before I teach (it’s 10:19am right now), but I wanted to at least give you a quick reply while I was thinking about it.  I’d be more than happy to have a longer conversation(s) with you about it, though. 

Some thoughts.....


     My reasons for coming here were sort of similar to yours.  I’d studied abroad (in Germany) and loved it, so I wanted to travel again on a grand scale.  Teaching English is a good way to finance that, and Korea has lots and lots of jobs with good pay and pretty decent benefits.  Plus, I’d also never been to Asia, so Korea fit my dual criteria of “kind of far-flung and different” yet “unlikely to force me to dodge bullets on a daily basis or import basic food supplies from the States.”  That was the initial attraction, but once I put my ear to the ground about Korea, I started learning about how it’s in such an interesting position right now.  It’s hugely modern in a lot of ways—home internet access, global business, robot-like cell phones and skyscrapers are all ubiquitous—but it’s also a very, very old culture (the second-oldest continuous civilization on earth, in fact), so those two faces of Korea often intersect in strange and interesting ways.  For instance, business relationships are highly Confucian-based, with lots of formality and hierarchy and deference, but the pop culture is really really sugary and seizure-inducing.  Korea’s only existed as a democracy for about 15 years, and it’s growing by leaps and bounds...but there are also some not-so-awesome vestiges of the past.  Like extreme national pride bordering on jingoism and an ugly amount of racism.  (I wrote a blog entry about that.)  So at times I adore Korea, at times it frustrates me, and at times it’s normal and comfortable...but it’s always interesting and edifying.

     A couple “before you come” ideas.  There are some great books out there that I’d recommend, especially “Learning to Think Korean” by L. Robert Kohls.  I’m actually partway through it right now, and it’s been fascinating and extremely useful to me.  He talks about the way Koreans think, contrasts that with the way Americans think, and recommends ways of conducting yourself (particularly in a business situation) that will give you the most success in Korea.  The insights are absolutely invaluable.  It was published in 2001, and much of the author’s experience with Korea is from several decades ago, so I sometimes get a sense that modern Koreans have traveled quite a bit further on the Western trajectory than he describes them, but the insights are useful nonetheless.  (I’m also working with lots of people who have studied or lived abroad, so that probably gives me a skewed sense of how Westernized the average Korean is.)  A couple other indispensable resources for me were some podcasts.  (If you don’t listen to podcasts now, they’re easy to get and free; just search for them in iTunes.  You can listen on your computer or on an iPod.)  I listened to Seoul Survivors for about a year before I came; it’s discontinued now, but it was a great podcast where two or three English teachers in Seoul would get together and chat about teaching, living in Korea, and the Koreans.  It was frequently funny and always useful.  Now, two of the Seoul Survivors alumni are doing a podcast called (creatively) Seoul Podcast; I haven’t listened to that one much, but it seems to be less teaching-focused and more life-in-Korea-focused.  I’d highly recommend both of them; they’re great (and free!) sources of information on Korea as it stands right now—and it’s truly a moving target, so any book more than a few years old will be at least a bit out of date.  Oh, and speaking of which....don’t spend too much time on Dave’s ESL Café (known as “Dave’s Negative Circle-jerk” by one of the costs of the Seoul Podcast).  The expat community in Korea can be really complain-y, and the forums on Dave’s tend to make teaching in Korea sound like the worst decision you could ever make.  It’s true that some people have bad experiences, but there are far more people who have good experiences...you just won’t hear from them nearly as often on those forums.  So take everything with a grain of salt, or else don’t use that website as a source of information at all.

     Oh man—I gotta wrap this up!  Ok, as for things you need to bring with you: the main thing everyone says is deodorant.  Koreans don’t wear it, so it’s hard to find; before I came, everyone told me to bring several sticks of it.  As for other toiletries, you’ll have no problem whatsoever finding them here, and probably in the brand you use at home, so don’t waste a lot of suitcase space on stockpiles of shampoo and eyeliner.  (Incidentally, someone told me that Korean tampons are weird, but I haven’t had to buy them yet, so I don't know.  There’s always Costco, though; you can get lots of stuff there that you’re used to, and memberships are cheap.)  I’ve found it useful to have a couple of those seven-pocket accordion file things at school for teaching, so you might want to bring a couple—you can get them at Target—though they’re by no means necessary.  I’m also really glad that I brought a ton of stickers, because they’re great for keeping my kids motivated in class.  I got a box of 2000 stickers at the dollar store, and the kids love them because they can’t get those exact stickers in Korea; I’d recommend bringing some stickers with you if you’re gonna teach, but don’t waste your money on fancy ones.  Hit up the dollar store if you want to bring some.  Movies are also good; I brought a CD sleeve thingy full of DVDs.  And books!  I’d plan on bringing about 5 books you haven’t read yet.  There are some good English bookstores here (though you might have to travel a bit to get to them), but the prices are elevated.  Check out the websites for What The Book, Bandi & Luni’s and Kyobo to get an idea of the prices of English books and decide how many you want to bring with you.  Definitely don’t plan on buying a digital camera or computer here; everyone thinks they’ll be so cheap since Korea makes a ton of electronics, but for whatever reason, they’re not.  You’ll get a better deal back home.  And once you get a job, ask about what people typically wear to teach.  I brought too many clothes, especially dressy clothes; I usually teach in jeans and a t-shirt or casual cotton top.  Skirts are good, though, for hot days; I can’t wear shorts to work, so it’s nice to have a couple skirts when it’s particularly hot.  Your school’s dress code may differ, but again, just ask.  I thought I’d have a hard time finding clothes in my size (I’m a size 8 jeans and a medium shirt), but apparently Koreans aren’t as tiny as Chinese people are; I haven’t really had trouble.  Plus sizes are really hard to find, I hear, but standard small-medium-large kinds of sizes aren’t really a problem.  Koreans DO have smaller feet, though; I wear an 8.5, and I’ve been able to buy sandals that are a bit short but okay (probably a size 8 American--it was a 250 Korean), but that was the largest size available.  I’ve only bought shoes in subway stations—subway shoe-shopping is one of my favorite things about Korea—but it’s possible that larger sizes are available in actual shoe stores.  Itaewon is the international area of town, and they have the most selection for larger American sizes of clothes and shoes, but if you wear a large-ish size in either thing, it might be wise to pack accordingly.

    Ok, I need to run.  (Well, I needed to run about 45 minutes ago, but I’m hopelessly long-winded.)  Feel free to add me as a friend on facebook, Skype me, and/or send me your phone number so I can call you sometime.  I hope this has been helpful!  Let me know if I can answer any other questions for you.   :c)

--Lori


P.S.  Oh oh—one more thing!  Calling the States from Korea (and vice-versa) is way cheaper than you’d think, which might be useful information to have before you come.  You can get a monthly Unlimited U.S. subscription with Skype for $5.95/month that will let you call any US phone for free....and with that, you get voicemail and a SkypeIn number, which is a US number that someone can call and it’ll ring your Skype.  Mine’s 678 [REDACTED--way to go me, being smart!], so someone in Atlanta can call that, and I can answer on my Skype...and it’s free for me, and like a local call for them.  Also, I have a Korean pre-paid cell phone (I got the cheap one for $40, plus about $10 of pre-paid minutes every three weeks or so), and I set up Skype to forward to my cell phone if I don’t answer within ten seconds.  It costs me 2 cents per minute for call forwarding, but it makes it so that my friends and family can call 678[redacted AGAIN!] and talk to me on my cell phone, halfway around the world, for free (for them) and 2 cents/minute (for me).  You can’t find a better deal than that!  You can also pretty much plan on getting a cell phone here; everyone has them, and the general consensus is that pre-paid is the best way to go for foreigners.  If you end up in Seoul, just go to Technomart (in Gangnam); it’s easy to get one. 

Your daily Engrish, part...3? or so?

Oh man....I wish I could have gotten a picture of some shoes I saw today.  As I've mentioned before, there are often market-like booths set up along my walk to school, and they sell different things every day.  One day it'll be produce, the next day it'll be handbags, and the next day it'll be flowers.  It's become a small pleasure for me to find out what's on offer every morning.

I've gotten some of my most classic Engrish products at this one booth that seems to rotate between women's clothes, handbags, and shoes.  (My 5,000 won "I [heart] CRAP" shirt was from there, and it's also where I found those "romantic pussy" shorts.)  Today, I was poking around the shoes and noticed one with a particularly interesting brand.  You know how the brand names of shoes are often written inside, where your heel goes?  Well.  I saw a pretty little pink and white sandal with the brand name BigStank on the heel.

For realsies.

I almost peed myself, I was so excited.  What a find!  I would have whipped out my camera right there, but the proprietress was eyeing me pleasantly, waiting for me to inquire about her wares.  I could have taken a quick picture and slinked off, but I didn't wanna be That Person.  So y'all will just have to use your imaginations.

Incidentally, I think that whomever sells that lady and her husband their merchandise must speak English fluently and be pulling the best prank ever, because some of the Engrish on that stuff is too good to be accidental.  How I wish I could find that person and shake his or her hand.....

HEATWAVE! This is my island in the sun [oi oi]

Sunday is Chusok, a Thankgsiving-like holiday when everyone in Korea takes to the roads and the air to visit their families.  Seeing as how my own family is on the other side of the planet, I'm going on vacation instead!  I'm headed to Jeju Island, which has been called the Hawaii of Korea.  It's down on the south end, and it's got a big ol volcano and other cool stuff.  I'm hoping it'll be warm enough to go to the beach, too!  I'm going with my friend and fellow teacher Amanda, and it should be an awesome time.

Gotta finish packing....eek!  Happy Chusok, everyone....be back Tuesday night!      :c)

Adventures in Grading

Just when I'm wrapped up in the monotony of grading--which is much more monotonous and frequent these days, since I'm teaching such high-level classes with LOTS of writing assignments--I'll come across a paper that makes me laugh out loud.  This was one such assignment.

WEEKEND JOURNAL

Think about what you did this weekend.  Please pick one thing and write about it.  Please write five or more sentences.

I Play piano concert.  And I wore a strange dress.  I play the piano.  I don't like my Piano music.  only my piano music is strange, and my mother wore strange dress to me. And I cried.

Perfection...in a stank little package.

The most wonderful thing happened to me today!  My grade 3 super-elite class was taking a science test, so I caught up on my grading.  That class might be my favorite class; they're a lot of fun, they're really smart, and their English is really good.  They still make plenty of mistakes, but they've got great vocabularies and pretty good grammar, too.

While they were working, I was grading their chapter summaries--they're reading Charlotte's Web (in their second language....because they are rockstars)--and I came to Bill's summary.  It was typed and had a little clip art picture (aww).  Bill is younger than the rest; he skipped a grade both in his regular school and at our private language school, and sometimes you can see the age gap in his behavior.  He's kind of outburst-y and can't seem to sit still and be quiet when he needs to be.  In fact, I've had to take off points from every test of his so far because he talked during the test (and one time even gave away the bonus question!).  But despite his lack of self-control, sometimes he knows the answer to a question when none of the other kids know it, and he generally does well.

Anyway!

I got to Bill's summary.  It was a paragraph long (about 8 or 9 sentences), and...y'all.  There were no mistakes.  NONE.  Not a single mistake!  So I figured he must have had the help of his mom or a tutor or someone; still, though, it was great.  But after they turned in their tests, I asked him if anyone had helped him.  And it turns out he did it all by himself!  I NEVER thought I'd see a paper with no mistakes.  It made my lil heart sing.

Of course, Bill also farted his way through the test and almost killed me with the smell.  This happened several times: we'd all be sitting there silently, and a wave of stank would smack me upside the head.  "BILL...?!?!" I'd say.  And his little 8-year-old voice would say "sorryyyy!" So I suppose you have to take the good with the bad.    :c)

White boys rapping...about Korea!

Just came across this YouTube video, called "Kickin' it in Geumchon."  Geumchon is up north of Seoul, near the DMZ, and this cheesefest pretty well captures the experience of being waeguk (foreign) in Korea.

Higlights:

--the ahjumma visors

--excellent Konglish ("Drinking Cass-uh!  Drinking Hite-uh!  Feelin alright-uh!  Drinking all night-uh!")

--the brief-yet-still-disturbing reference to dogmeat markets

--the shout-out to Family Mart....oh, sweet Family Mart.

Enjoy!

And 10 kilometers later, I took a glorious shower.

Tonight I was feeling adventurous, so I decided to go for a run on the streets of Seoul.  (Smog-filled Seoul, you ask?  Yes!  The same!)  So I changed clothes, put my hair in knobbly little bun-pigtails, tied my key into my shoelaces, got my iPod and pepper spray, and was ready to roll.  I told Roommate Jake where I was going, as well as a timetable about when to start panicking if I didn't return.  "If you're not back in an hour or so, I'll just call your cell phone," he said.

Hmm.  Cell phone.  Good point.

So I got my cell phone, too.  But now I was carrying my iPod, pepper spray, and phone.  And that's kind of a lot to carry.  "Ooh...and what if something happens?  And I need to have some money?  And my ID?"  I thought.  So, being the street-wise safety queen (read: paranoid overpacker person) that I am, I threw everything in a small clutch purse and headed out.  Road, you are MINE!

I decided to head toward COEX, the huge shopping mall/convention center in our area.  I figured that if I could get to COEX and back, someone should give me a medal, because a) I am woefully out of shape, and b) it's about a ten- or fifteen-minute cab ride from my apartment to COEX.  But there's a lot of stuff in that direction, so I figured I'd at least start running that way.

"Run, run, run," I thought.  "Running!  Okay, but now my asthma's acting up.  Walking.  Walk walk walk.  Feeling like an idiot, what with my bun-pigtails and short shorts and tank top and sneakers, yet with no runningness to give purpose to such fashion absurdity."  [Y'all.  Did you know that Seoul-ese women dress up ALL THE TIME?  They always look awesome!  I'm pretty sure they sleep in high heels.]  So I ran and walked, alternatingly (attack of the made-up adverbs!!!) for a while.  And I found a Starbucks and a Coffee Bean, quite close to my apartment!  Who knew?  (There also was another Starbucks and a Holly's Coffee between me and COEX.  Geez, Korea!)

So I ran some.  And walked some.  And noted the interesting little restaurants and businesses along my way.  And it was lovely!  Except: no COEX.  COEX is Really Kind Of a Huge Place, so there were two possibilities.

a) It was farther away than I thought.

b) I went out the wrong subway exit, thus accidentally turning a corner, while going underground to cross the street.  BOLLOCKS.

But after I ran some more, I decided that it must have been b), because: STILL NO GIANT BEACON OF CONSUMERISM.  Eventually I came to a curve in the road, no way to cross the (very busy) street, and what looked like an overpass around the curve with unfriendlily-narrow sidewalks.  (SECOND attack of the made-up adverbs!!!)  I walked around a little hut/kiosk and found a man that worked there.  Well...from my perspective, I found the man that worked there.  From his perspective, he was snooken up upon by someone holding SOMETHING DARK IN THEIR HAND AAH A GUN I PUT MY HANDS UP oh.  It's just some red-faced waeguk girl with a purse and bun-pigtails.

Once he realized that I was not, in fact, trying to rob him, I sign-languaged and grunted my way through an inquiry about how/where to cross the street.  He laughed at me, pointed back toward where I came from, and smacked me on the arm playfully for being such a dolt.  So I decided that then would be a good time to turn around and head back.

The other side of the street was also interesting!  Among the most noteworthy sights:

1)  A gaggle of high-schoolers, just getting out of school.  AT TEN THIRTY PM.  Because the Korean education system is INSANE and SLAVE-DRIVERISH.

2)  Some establishment called "Greece."  Excited that I might have happened upon a Greek restaurant near my apartment, I tiptoed down the stairs and poked my head into the restaurant.  It was kind of fancy, and there was just one guy (who looked like a waiter) sitting within my line of sight.  So I speed-tiptoed back up the stairs before he saw me and tried to seat me.  I didn't want to be spotted...after all, I was a crazy, red-faced waeguk girl with ridiculous bun-pigtails.  (Have I mentioned that?)

3)  FREAKING COEX.  I somehow missed it.  I clearly need to watch more Burn Notice; my super-spy observation skillz are somewhat lacking.

After climbing, Rocky-like, the 13 flights to my apartment, I settled into Google Earth to figure out how far I'd gone.  (I'd been gone quite a while; it was even past Jake's prescribed "send a search party" time.  Way to look out for my safety, dear roommate.  GAH.)  I had noted the name of a big hotel near where I turned around, and...y'all.  Apparently I ran ALL THE WAY TO THE HAN RIVER.  That is 3.1 MILES AWAY from my apartment.  And THEN I RAN BACK.  (Again: walking intermittently, but no matter.  There were hills!  Also: I am slow!  I can hardly be faulted.  So hush up, Imagined Voice of Judgment.)

So apparently I did a 10k today.  By accident!  Amidst all the smog!  After not having gone running for....actually, it's really not important how long it's been!  Also, I did NOT get lost!  Despite being....myself!  This is clearly an occasion, if ever there was one, for gratuitous exclamation points and phrases parading as complete sentences.  I WIN.

Dirty (uh...I mean ROMANTIC) Engrish

Some shorts I found at an outdoor market-like booth set up on my walk home from school the other day.  

In related news, all this awesome Engrish is turning me into an excellent surreptitious photographer.  Probably I should become a private investigator.

Korean nationalism--and my big "but."

Today one of my students came up to me before class and said she was angry.  (She said this with a faint smile on her face; I think many of my students don't quite grasp the heat of the word "angry.")  I asked her why, and she said she was angry that on Friday I said that Michael Phelps was a very good swimmer.  She didn't like Michael Phelps, she said, because he beat Park Taehwan, Korea's superstar swimmer and most cheered-for Olympic athlete.  When I pointed out that Michael Phelps was undeniably a very good swimmer, she became petulant.  "I don't like America!" she proclaimed.  "I only like Korea!"

From what I've seen, the Koreans have some serious national pride.  To be fair, Korea has had a bit of a sad and abused history.  Most recently, the Japanese occupation of Korea from 1910 until 1945 has left a powerful sting.  I've already made two visits to Seodaemun Prison, the infamous hellhole in Seoul where Japanese forces starved and tortured Korean freedom fighters during the occupation.  (I've been meaning to blog about that, but I have Kind Of A Lot Of Thoughts, and I haven't found a 12-hour block of time yet.)  Plus, Korea is an infant democracy and has become a global power very quickly.  So a bit of national pride is certainly in order.

Still, it's a bit disconcerting to hear outright hatred of the Japanese, references to Thais as "dirty Asians," and all the rest.  In fact, this morning wasn't the first time--probably not even the fifth time--that I've heard a student say that they dislike other countries and only like Korea.  (Disclaimer: obviously, not every Korean holds this sentiment...and among those who do, it seems mostly harmless.  It's mostly a self-love rather than an other-hate kind of deal, as far as I've witnessed it.)  But--and there's always a but!--it's still a bit off-putting.

In this case, as with many bits of the national character, I find myself comparing Koreans with Germans.  During my time in Germany, I was surprised to find out how anti-nationalistic Germans are.  One of our teachers, who has blond hair, even said that when she goes abroad, she hopes other people will think she's Scandanavian instead of German because she doesn't want that "tag."  She's proud of being from Cologne, she says; she just doesn't exactly want Germany's reputation to precede her.  And that's understandable.  But the reputation is patently ridiculous, because modern Germany is a prosperous, extremely well-educated, considerate citizen of the world.  It has behaved very, very badly in its recent history...but that was three generations ago, and I have found that most modern Germans regard that ugly spot in their past with all the contempt and repentance that it deserves.  In fact, they often swing to the other extreme, going light on parental discipline lest it be too harsh and Nazi-like, and refusing to display German flags because to do so might seem overly nationalistic.  (Well...sometimes they wave flags during big soccer games.  But those are dire circumstances!  And even so, you see far fewer German flags than flags of the opponent's country.)

In relief against the Germans, Koreans seem almost dangerously nationalistic to me.  I don't exactly expect to see it develop into ethnic cleansing like it did in Germany--although exactly who would be ethnically cleansed?  Only 2% of the people in Korea are foreign, and a majority are temporary residents--but...again, that "but."  The hyper-nationalism is disconcerting.

Korea is shockingly homogenous.  To wit: 80% of Koreans have the surname Kim, Park, or Lee.  I mean, DANG, right?  They also are one of the oldest continuous civilizations on Earth.  Those roots run deep, yo.  Add a dash of kicked-puppy fortitude from the Japanese occupation, plus a heap of recent financial and political success, and it's no wonder the Koreans have rallied like they have.  So I suppose I'm not offering a rebuke; just making an observation.  I'm interested to see whether (and how) my perception of Korean nationalism changes as I get to know the language better and as I make more Korean friends.

I found a YouTube video someone shot of the museum at Seodaemun Prison, and although the camerawork is a bit frenetic for my tastes, it might be interesting to some of you.  In particular, beginning around 4 minutes and 15 seconds, you can hear a reenactment of torture with an almost laughably evil Japanese voice-over.  It's almost laughable, that is, because that portrayal of the Japanese as evil is hard to ignore at the museum.  Again, I must qualify that: the museum is exceptionally well-done...and besides, the Japanese guards that ran the prison were kind of evil.  But...well, you know.  "But."  The Japan of 2008 is not the Japan of 1928.

To end on a light note, I found another YouTube video that displayed the same Korean nationalism, but in a satirical and fun-loving way.  It's two Korean-American college students dressed up as two ornery ahjushi (Korean men) giving a lesson on Korean history.  And it is HILARIOUS, for two reasons: the way they poke fun at the aforementioned Korean pride, and the way they imitate Koreans speaking English.  AMAZING.  I give it three thumbs up.  Korean noodles numbah wUuUuUn!