Christmas cheer

I have gotten so used to this city regularly making me dislike humanity - people shoving on the streets, always trying to be the fastest walker, selfishly scrambling for open seats on the subway, and generally not caring to make life easier for anyone else. So it makes my heart feel extra warm when a stranger does something that's nice.

It was nothing special, but the situation was this: I was wearing a backpack on the subway, because I was carrying my laptop. At one of the stops, a woman stood up and left the train, leaving her seat empty. I opted not to take it, since I only had one more stop to go, but an old man tapped me on the shoulder and gestured to the open seat, offering it to me (probably because I was carrying heavy stuff). I thanked him but explained that I was getting off in one stop (holding up one finger just in case he didn't speak English), and he chuckled and said, "Same."

I don't know why this interaction made me so happy. It shouldn't have, because offering a seat to someone is such a simple act. But so is holding a door open for someone else, and probably 5% of the population of Seoul actually does that.

Anyway, there's a little Christmas cheer for you - people, even in a busy (and often selfish) city, can be nice.

Team building?

Yes, I just published a post two and a half minutes ago. But right after clicking the "publish post" button, I remembered something from yesterday. It's more fitting, anyway, since this is an interesting Korea story and not something ordinary that makes me happy.

I asked a student yesterday what he did over the weekend, and he said he went hiking. I pressed for more details, and it was revealed to me that this was a business hiking trip. He and 40 colleagues (I asked him like 5 times if he meant "14" and not "40" because I couldn't really believe it) got on a bus to go to a mountain 5 hours away. They spent the night in a hotel, then got up at 5 in the morning so that they'd get to the top of the mountain by 7, which is sunrise. He showed me a picture on his cell phone. It was very grey, snowy, desolate. Probably much more stunning in real life. And then they all went back down for the 5 hour bus ride home.

When I asked him why they went on this trip, all I could get out of the student was "team building," but I'm not sure if he was only echoing my prompt: "So why do you go on trips with your colleagues? Is it for bonding? Team building?"

How wacky.

Mundaneity - not a real word, but let's use it anyway

And now a list of mundane things that I am excited about (aka self-indulegent entry):

This past weekend was a weekend of good food. And when I say "good," I mean food spectacular enough to spontaneously give me cosmic insights. Good Food #1: Indian restaurant. I will never tire of Indian food. Enough said. Good Food #2: Egyptian restaurant. After the first bite of seasoned lamb, I nearly blacked out. It's been too long since I've eaten Middle Eastern-y cuisine. I also like how eating raw onions makes me feel like a dragon (though I suppose I should have sympathy for the people who sat next to me on the subway journey after).

And in other news, I now have in my possession the awesomest pair of headphones that I've ever been exposed to. A little bit a Christmas indulgence, yes, but infinitely worth it. These headphones are so awesome, they make even bad music sound good.

Oh, and the highlight of it all is that I learned yesterday that of Montreal is coming to Osaka, Japan in March! Holy crap! Andy and I may put our vacation days to use after all!!!

Be grateful, all ye country dwellers

You know all those funny-looking surgical-like masks that you see pictures of Asians wearing? Well, Andy and I finally bought a pair.

I think I've mentioned before that the pollution here is the worst I've ever experienced (though I've heard it's even worse in some parts of the world), but I don't think I've shared the gross details of what the contaminated air is doing to our noses. "Pain" and "scabs" will suffice. The pollution was particularly bad a few days ago, when I went the whole day tasting the city in the back of my throat. So we bought some health masks (maunfactured by the Kleenex company, in fact) to wear to and from work. I can't tell yet if it's working, because after just 2 months of breathing car fumes and cigarette smoke, my nose is probably going to need a while to recover.

I am never going to take fresh air for granted again.

Some long-overdue pictures

Hit the piano

And so the list grows - the list of amazing/hilarious butcherings of English that I hear from my students. "Butcherings" isn't fair, really, because sometimes they come out with words or phrases that I want to urge into common usage.

For example, I asked a student to summarize a short video that he watched. The video was about two people reminiscing about their childhood. My student put it aptly: "They are talking about their younger seasons."

Another less-poetic but fun example occurred yesterday. My student was explaining that she is trying to avoid meat temporarily, all except "chicken boobs."

And finally, today I taught a group conversation class. We discussed music and education, so I asked if any of them play an instrument. One of them said he used to "hit the piano" and another used to "touch piano."

Big mouse

Really sorry for the lack of pictures in this blog. We don't have internet in our apartment yet, so I can't really upload any of my own, and I must resort to using links and other people's pictures off the internet. But soon that will change.

Andy and I visited the Seoul Olympic Park this weekend. It was so good to find an open, tree-filled space. There also happened to be an enormous sculpture exhibition throughout the park (links to other people's images here). Sculptures included spheres, swirls, strange creatures, giant thumbs, and tall geometric shapes. It felt very much like walking through a surrealist painting, what with all the strange things protruding from the ground of an otherwise normal environment.

In other news, I'm slowly falling in love with Vietnamese food. So far I've counted 2 Vietnamese food chains, but there could be more.

Which brings me to the subject of Korean food. Am I in love with it? No. Will I be? Probably not. But I've decided to stop feeling guilty about that, because it's not like I'm a stubborn American with stubborn American tastes. I liked Japanese food (for the 2 days that I was there, I know, but I liked it nonetheless), and I like Indian, Thai, Vietnamese, Morroccan, Italian... etc. So it's ok if I'm not crazy about Korean food, since I seem to really like everything else. I am not dismissing Korean food by any means; there are so many dishes I have yet to try. But I'm ready to stop being disappointed in myself when my taste buds aren't dancing in ecstasy at the taste of kimchi.

And let's conclude with a funny story. Last week, a student told me he called someone a "big mouse", and he wondered if this was offensive because the person looked a little angry. I told him no, I didn't see why calling someone a big mouse was bad. But he wasn't satisfied with that response. He said it again: "big mouse." And I realized he was saying big mouth.

The mystery deepens...

The more Andy and I teach, the more we conclude that Koreans must be the bearers of some esoteric knowledge about another dimension or planet - probably "Otherwhere."

For instance, I was discussing travel with a student, and asked him if he ever did any sightseeing. He enthusiastically said, "Yes. In my uncle's house, there are many mountains."

Andy had a student who works in a pharmacy, but her English is very limited. She told him that as soon as she knows more English, she will tell him about "behind the world."

Mysterious indeed.

Does this look like pizza to you?

Believe it or not, this is Domino's. Yes, the very same Domino's Pizza whose headquarters are in (or is it near?) Ann Arbor, MI. I thought at least restaurant chains were safe from having their products Koreanized, but it seems that nothing is sacred after all. At least Krispy Kreme is the same.

Domino's Korean website. Click on "menu" for more ghastly photos.

Otherwhere

Today in a lesson, the word "invoice" came up. I asked my student what he thought it meant. He went "uhh" and "umm" for about a minute, then came up with a very fragmented and strange definition: "A common something from otherwhere." I wish I knew what word he thought he was defining.

Le weekend

On Saturday, we tried to go to the Seoul Museum of Art. Well, I say 'tried' because we did manage to get there, but only one gallery in at least a ten-gallery museum was open. So we at least got to get our first glimpse at a contemporary Korean artist named Chun Kyung-ja. Most of her paintings were (in my opinion) stereotypical depictions of travel, but her style was amazing and I loved the way she painted snakes (see above). There was a surprising amount of people visiting the museum, considering that most of what there was to see consisted of men sweeping the floor and walls being painted black, but there was also a cafe and a gift shop, both of whch were rather bustling.

On our way back to the subway station, we stopped and got a cup of the cheapest coffee we could find, and we certainly got what we paid for. The cofee was amber and transparent, and tasted of dirt. But the disappointments of the day were somehow made up for by the fact that the streets were actually lined with trees (my God! nature in Seoul! such a novelty), and it was rainy (as it tends to be when we have weekends out) which somehow made the yellowing trees even prettier. And I felt pretty happy anyway, because I was wearing jeans for the first time in a week.

We did some more exploring in our neighborhood, and found a really cool market nearby that sells fruits, vegetables, fresh fish, packaged goods, and pig heads.

Wait. What?

Pig heads.

Pepero

Happy Pepero Day!

Above image: http://img.danawa.com/cms/img/2006/11/09/pepero.jpg (i.e. not mine)

The charm of travel

Yesterday, Andy and I were stopped in the street by three young Koreans with a video camera. They wanted to interview us for a project. We were wearing backpacks at the time, and jeans, and sweatshirts, and sneakers - the very image of tourists. So they probably thought we were visiting Seoul. Which is true, if a visit can be the length of a year.

Anyway, we agreed and they began recording. A girl asked us various questions, like how does being in Seoul compare to our hometowns? What do we like, or find easy? What do we dislike, or find difficult? And I realized something.

Answering the questions was a struggle. And this isn't the first time it's happened. Anytime I've spoken with people via Skype, email, facebook, etc., or even with co-workers and people I meet, I always say more or less the same thing.

"Yeah, it's different. I like it a lot. But it's different. Adjusting to the culture isn't as difficult as adjusting to being in a big city. But I'm getting used to it. I really like it here. You know?"

Who wants to guess how much of the above is true? Your guess is as good as mine. I sure don't know.

My answers to people's questions about Korea, and Seoul, and teaching are all very vague because my ideas themselves are still vague. Perhaps the biggest adjustment I have to deal with is getting used to being in a foreign country that I didn't immediately fall in love with. England, Ireland, Spain, the Bahamas - they were all instantly charming in some new way, satisfying and magical. But I have yet to be charmed by Korea.

This is good for me, though. It's good to realize that travel isn't just romantic and fun - it's frustrating, and boring, and routine too.

Stupid cosmos

This is a two-part story that starts happy, turns bad, then ends somewhere in the middle.

I was sitting on a bench in the underground shopping center near the subway entrance after saying goodbye to Andy (he was off to work, and I didn't have to be at my office for another hour). I was doing the usual: listening to music, writing, tapping my feet, and staring at people around me. This Korean business man was sitting next to me, talking on his cell phone, when suddenly he dropped an envelope and dozens of pens fell out onto the floor. I helped him pick them up, then went back to my music-listening-toe-tapping time.

A moment later, he stood up. I thought he had left, but after a few minutes he comes back to the bench with two smoothies in his hand. He extended one to me and explained in rough English that it was to thank me for helping him. We talked a little, and then I had to go. He gave me one of the pens as well.

So I was in this pleasant glowing state of existence, one where you're just filled with love for humanity. I got on the subway without paying much attention to exactly which train I was taking. Turns out I got on the train going the wrong way. I didn't realize this for two stops, and to get off the train I had to barrel football player-style through a wall of un-budging people. I ran up the stairs, across, then down the stairs on the other side - my smoothie sloshing around all the time. I caught the right train, and managed to get to work exactly at 6:00.

So the story ends in the middle. Not good, not bad, but acceptable. I'm always supposed to be at work 15 minutes early, and my first lesson was at 6. So I wasn't on time, but I wasn't late either.

Stupid cosmic balances.

Issues of transportation

Let me tell you a few things about getting around in Seoul.

When it comes to side streets, sidewalks (or pavement, for any England-based readers I might have) are virtually nonexistent. There are plenty of sidewalks on main roads, but anywhere else pedestrians must stick to the same path of traffic as cars. In the beginning, this was a little stressful and quite a bit scary, but I'm used to it now. I've never seen any Korean pedestrian get nervous about a car driving past so close, and I think this is because walkers and drivers alike are used to it, and thus very adept at avoiding each other. No one really yields to anyone in this situation, but everyone manages to stay alive.

Second, I'd like to bring up the issue of the moped.

I. Hate. Mopeds.

In this city, pedestrians have their place and cars have their place, and while this can often overlap there is still always a distinction between person and vehicle. But mopeds are this unique beast that belongs to both categories. It's not a rare thing to see a moped roaring down the sidewalk, then crossing the street at the pedestrian crosswalk, then turning to continue down the street with the cars. They are godlike in that road rules do not apply to them - they can continue on when other cars must wait at a light, they can make U-turns, and they can switch between on-road and off-road as often as they like. It's like they've taken the philosophy of the motor-less bicycle and applied it to the moped. But I say that anything with a motor that can go as fast as a car belongs as far away from helpless pedestrians as possible.

A fragmented account of various cool things

People keep telling me I'm pretty. The first one to do it was a 60 year-old Korean gentlemen whom I was teaching - he told me that the ladies behind the front desk recommended me to him because I'm pretty. Since then, I've had roughly three other students tell me the same thing, as well as a group of young Girl Scouts on the subway (who couldn't have been more than 10 but they all spoke lovely English). They asked if Andy was my boyfriend, so we told them we were engaged, and they became very wide-eyed and smiley. One of the girls gave Andy a thumbs up and said "good job."

I have taught the older Korean man twice now. In our first lesson, I had mentioned to him that I was interested in reading English translations of Korean literature. Today, when I had my second class with him, he gave me an English version of The Camellias, which is a Korean novel from the 1930s. He told me he hadn't had time to go out and get it himself, so he had his driver go out and find me a book.

Also, today I learned about Korean wedding ducks. One of my students is getting married this Sunday, so we looked up pictures of Korean weddings online. There were several pictures of wooden ducks (all of them in pairs), so I asked her what they were. She said that they symbolize the man and woman, and that people keep them in their house for good luck. They are usually displayed facing each other, but she told me that when the husband and wife are having an argument, they move the ducks so that they are back-to-back.

Hey you! Smile!

Today was a day of motion. We got to experience the cramped subway life of Seoul - we traveled from Gangnam to the downtown area, then walked in the rain through a park, a royal shrine, and a market. We've been in such a near-constant state of travel that now, sitting here in the motel, I feel like I'm on a train.

Apparently the area around Jongmyo royal ancestral shrine is a hang-out for old men: old men sitting on the stairs, old men eating street food, old men leaning on their umbrellas and laughing at some joke I can't understand, old men crowded around other old men playing Go) on park benches. The first thing you see when you exit the subway is a stand selling typical old guy hats.

The ancestral shrine was really cool. It consists of several old buildings spread out over a big stretch of woodland, which was a welcome break from dirty city air. Very pretty, very rainy, very fun.





The market was crazy but fun. We found several stands that sell cheap kitchen supplies, so we'll certainly be back when it comes to adorning our new apartment with knick knacks and bric-a-brac (are pots and pans bric-a-brac?).



Finally, here is a funny ad that I saw on the subway. Sometimes things are a lot better if you can't understand what's being said. The title of this entry is "Hey you! Smile!", which I saw on the side of someone's shopping bag. So I've decided that "Hey you! Smile!" is the caption for this advertisement. Any suggestions for what you think the people are saying? I think they're having an enthusiastic conversation about the man's snazzy suit.

Yogurt bread??

Today was my last day of training, and my first day in the Direct English branch I'll be teaching in. I sat in on a couple of classes. In one class, the teacher spent about thirty minutes trying to help the Korean student pronounce "war" and "wall." This proved to be extremely challenging, because "r" and "l" are pretty much the same consonant here. They are written with the same symbol, but pronounced "r" in certain situations and "l" in others. So I got to sit there, quietly observing, while for thirty minutes "wa" noises were made nonstop by both the teacher and the student. I thought I was going a little crazy.

By the end of my orientation, I had been there for about an hour and half longer than I was supposed to, mainly because a student whose class I was supposed to observe chose not to show up. On my way out, the Korean girls behind the front desk took pity on my grumbling stomach (it was almost 9pm, and I had been there since 3) and offered me a piece of bread. It turned out to be a sweet roll filled with what tasted like chocolate yogurt.

I'm constantly being surprised by how important youthfulness and beauty are here. Students keep telling us how popular plastic surgery has become, the reasons often being to get job promotions. A Korean businessman (the same one who couldn't distinguish between "war" and "wall") was expressing some worries he has about his job - he's 37, and according to him it's very common for Korean businessmen to lose their jobs around age 40-45, only to be replaced by younger men. So, since businesses only want to hire young workers, these laid-off middle-aged guys struggle to get new jobs. They either sit around at home and do nothing, leave Korea to work abroad, or put up with a lower pay scale job that nobody else wants to do.

I have finally decided on a name for this blog. Suitable, I think, because I've never lived in a city that is also an active tourist spot.

First real day of work tomorrow. Rock.

Where's the air?

While I'm waiting for my newly-purchased jasmine tea to steep, let's explore some flavors I've encountered in Korea so far.

We had pizza a few evenings ago from Pizza Club (not to be confused with Pizza Mall, another joint on another street in Seoul). It was good, but the sauce tasted more like barbecue sauce than what my taste buds have come to know as pizza sauce. I figured this was just a Pizza Club thing, until Andy and I went to an Italian restaurant tonight and discovered that our lasagna and spaghetti were slathered in a freakishly similar, sweet tomatoey sauce. We reasoned that this was just Korean tastes revealing themselves, that people here must prefer sweet things.

Until we bought cookies.

First of all, the chocolate cookies depicted on the box look like your typical Chips Ahoy-type pre-packaged dessert. But on the actual cookie, dough and chocolate chip are indistinguishable in terms of color, and they're much smaller than the box had led me to believe. Andy also pointed out that the cookie didn't taste as sweet as you'd expect. So there went our theory of Koreans having a sweet tooth. I suggested that the taste tendency here must be a consistent slightly-sweet, which Andy then compared to people who only drive at 40 mph no matter what, whether they're in a residential neighborhood or on the express way.

Also, bread here is very squishy, and largely crust-less (at least on pre-made sandwiches in convenience stories). I've seen an excessive amount of "milk bread," which Andy tells me is eaten in the UK by babies who are just beginning to consume solid food. Hmm.

In other news, Seoul is probably the most polluted city I have ever been in. It seems to be perpetually coated in smog, the streets are filled with chain smokers, and the sewers aren't very good at keeping their smells underground. I thought I had a cold for the first several days we were here, but I think now that my sinus gross-ness is my body adjusting to really alien big-city conditions. I guess pollution is just one of the compromises of living in a really awesome place. Luckily, there are some mountain-filled national parks nearby, which just sings to me of clean air. I think we have some day trips in our future.

I don't have pictures to share yet, but Andy and I will soon be moving into our apartment - awesome! we can cook again! - and I'll definitely post images of that so ya'll can see where we live. For those of you who were familiar with my senior year BG housing, this apartment is actually smaller, but it's still a normal size for Seoul. Bedrooms are synonymous with living rooms and dining rooms in this city, at least in the price range we're dealing with.

The Big Buddha is Upstairs

I am back from Japan. I spent my last day there with a subway day pass, and just kept getting off at various stops and seeing what there was to see (without wandering very far each time, because I can't say anything in Japanese except for 'hello' and 'thankyou,' so how was I to get directions if I got lost?). I spent my day buying socks, and reading what English-language books I could find in bookstores, and eating as much dessert as possible.

The highlight of the day was by far stumbling into a Buddhist temple. It was beautiful, with lovely pagoda-esque buildings and sand and statues and trees. There weren't many signs in English, so I was left mostly to guess what everything was, but I was intrigued by a paper sign in English taped to the side of a stairway: 'THE BIG BUDDHA IS UPSTAIRS.' Big Buddha? What big Buddha? I had to find out.

They really weren't kidding. Buddha was about three stories tall and made out of wood. He was sitting cross-legged, and smiling mysteriously between a stylishly thin mustache and goatee. People kept coming in and bowing their heads before him in prayer, then tossing some money in a wooden box and leaving. Some cans of orange juice had been placed in offering at his feet.

I watched a girl awake from prayer and walk toward this door at the base of the buddha statue. So I followed. It led to a little passage-way that curved around Buddha's bottom. On the walls were pictures of really scary demons barbecuing babies. At the end of this tunnel of terror was another doorway, which led into a pitch-dark (no kidding - pitch dark, not even some cracks of light) winding passage that curled its way back out the other side of the Buddha. Kind of a strange meditative trust-walk, I imagine. I tried entering twice, chickened out twice, then finally went all the way through. My fingers never left the walls. I've never been so afraid of trap doors or people jumping out at me (of which there were neither, except in my head).

After the Big Buddha, I went downstairs into a wide temple (picture the scene from Lost in Translation when Scarlet Johannsen visits the temple. it looked just like that). A group of Japanese ladies were kneeling on the floor, clanging bells together and singing. I don't know what else I was expecting - robes, perhaps - but they were just in their jeans and shirts. Some guy came up to me and asked a question in Japanese. I just said yes, which seemed to please him, because he smiled and said something else and walked away. Good save.

On my way out, I saw a sign in English that explained a few things about the temple, and apparently I was supposed to have seen a statue of the Thousand-Hand Goddess of Mercy, dating all the way back to something nuts like the 1100s. Couldn't find her, though. Shame.

And now I'm back in Korea, and to celebrate Andy and I went out and bought a box of tissues and a stuffed animal (which Andy has dubbed the giraffe-erpillar). Apparently the Koreans like strange creatures.

This Blog is Not a Pun

My brain is suffering from strange and sporadic sleep, so I nearly named this blog something lame like "Seoul Searching" or "Seoul Power." But I overcame that strange, 5 am desire, and I am pleased to report that This Blog is Not a Pun. The title will probably change once I think of something jazzier, but right now I'm too tired to try.

To keep with the theme of jet-lag and sporadic things, I will begin with a stream of consciousness description of what's currently going on.

I am in Fukuoka, Japan. The toilet seat in my hotel room is self-heating. It's hard to understand the bus system when you don't speak Japanese. My lunch yesterday consisted of miso soup, a sampler plate of 6 ambiguous dishes (one being fish, one being a strange hambuger patty in soy-like sauce, one being unidentifiable vegetables in a grey sauce, one being a tasty potato and vegetable hodgepodge, one being more unidentifiable vegetable, and the last being a creamy squidge of ginger-decorated tofu), and unlimited rice. Instant noodles are basically the same as anything you'd buy in the international food aisle in Kroger, the one big difference being that I can't read the labels here. Bread and cakes are very squishy, very soft, very moist, very fun to sink your teeth into. Pokemon is even stranger in Japanese.

I'm getting my visa back from the Korean embassy later today, and after that I get to putz around for 8 more hours before I go to the airport to check in for my 9pm flight back to Incheon Airport. I might go see some temples and some castle ruins.

And now let's go back in time a little bit. Here is what I wrote in my notebook during the flight from Germany to Korea:

"I'm on my way to Korea. I can see my reflection in the personal television screen in front of me. I look tired and warm. There's a Korean man sitting next to me, and I'm afraid to ask him if he speaks English because I'm ashamed to have learned so little of his language this summer. I justify this by promising myself I'll sign up for Korean classes once we're settled in our new temporary home. He seems nice, even though we haven't said anything to each other. I suspect this will become a familiar feeling to me - the sense that someone is nice, but without the linguistic capacity to find out. It seems that you can get far with body language, though. The reasons I suspect this man is nice are that he smiles a lot, and he passed my empty plastic cup to the flight attendant for me. I may not become fluent in Korean this year (though by God I'll foolishly try), but I'll probably hone the skill of reading people's bodies and communicating with my own - in a sense, become fluent in body language.

For perhaps the second time in my life (the first being my first flight, because who can help but be excited?) I am looking forward to the in-flight meal. They're serving Korean food, and it's my first time eating bibimbop miles above Russia..."

It turns out I was right about both things. The man sitting next to me continued to be extremely nice, even though we couldn't say much to each other, and the airline food was actually awesome.