Winter Vacation

It was an odd feeling.  Odd, but at the same moment comforting.  We were almost home.  Home as in our little studio apartment in Yeongju, South Korea.  I wanted to sleep in my own bed.  Use my own shower.  Cook in my own kitchen.  Jessica and I had spent a week of our winter vacation in Beijing, the capital of China. 

We saw the stage that held the world’s attention in 2008 with the eloquently over-the-top Olympic opening ceremonies.  We walked on one of the Wonders of the World.  We stood in the largest public space on the planet.  In this same place nearly 22 years ago thousands of protesters bled in the name of democracy.  The iconic portrait of Mao hung on the gates to the Forbidden City.

In and around Tiananmen Square stood the National Museum of China, The Great Hall of the People, and even the Chairman himself.  His body has been preserved and enclosed in a glass coffin for visitors to view, and for the Chinese, pay their respects.

It was a world away from Greenville.  Uniformed soldiers and policemen patrolled the area, not allowing anyone to take their picture.  I couldn’t help but slow down and reflect on all of the things that happened in this place.  Chinese history.  World history.  So much political significance.  Only a week earlier the Chinese president flew to the US to visit and talk with Barak Obama, two of the most powerful men in the world.  Yet in spite of all there was to process in this chapter of our adventure, all I could do was stare at the ginormous mole on Chairman Mao’s chin, and wonder who the poor shmuck was that died for immortalizing it. 

Bless his heart.

Beijing: A snapshot

The window looked west into the strange land of Narnia.  And Jill saw

 the red remains of the sunset still glowing behind distant mountains. 

 It made her long for more adventures, and feel sure that this was only

 the beginning.

                                                                     from The Silver Chair

                                                                     The Chronicles of Narnia

                                                                     C. S. Lewis

Dragon

Temple of Heaven in the morning

Gate M.  Olympic Stadium

Corridor at Summer Palace

Bilbo goes to China

Red lanterns

Bridge

Light

Break

The Wall

Lightbulb

Hey!  Let's go to Beijing on Saturday!

Osan

I'll admit I was a bit worried about this past weekend's English camp.  The very indirect trip from Yeongju to Osan took me nearly 5 hours to complete.  2.5 hours by bus up to Seoul, and then another 2.5 hours via subway/train back down to Osan.  I probably could have ridden a bicycle directly from Yeongju to Osan in a third of the time.  But of course, as any foreigner living in South Korea will tell you, that makes way too much sense.

I was worried because I was the lone American attending the event.  In essence, I was a celebrity.  I was a Hollywood star.  Rich.  Good looking.  Completely foreign and appealing to these teenagers.  One student even told me I looked like Jim Caviezel in the Passion of the Christ.  A bit of a stretch, but I took it as a compliment.

As I mentioned in a previous blog post, I gave a power point presentation introducing American culture.  Before I started, I asked the students what American people look like.  "Blonde hair.  Blue eyes."  What do American's eat?  "Hamburgers.  Pizza."  I was concerned that they had all been misguided by everything that is broadcast out of the US, but what I found was that these young Asians were generally grounded in their ideas of Americans.

 For example, one girl asked me if all American's have a trampoline at their house.

What?

But in actuality, these student's, and probably most Korean's in general, believe that life in America is exactly like it is on the Lil Wayne videos.  And why wouldn't they?  That's all they see.  More accurately, that's all we put out.

And when I say put out, I mean it in every sense of the word.

We Heart Engrish

I spent this past weekend in the Korean town of Osan on the outskirts of Seoul.  I was part of an English camp for Semyeong Computer high school.  The following is one of the highlights of the weekend.


As any English teacher worth his or her salt will tell you, the best method for teaching the language is to have your students make t-shirts.  No, "make t-shirts" is not code for "learn new vocabulary", "practice conversation skills", or anything else that could possibly make more sense.

"This is bery special t-shirt!  You cannot buy with your money!" barked the director of the camp.  And on that note we handed out the plain white t-shirts and small tubes of paint found at any number of local retailers.

The students were instructed to paint pictures of something from English camp on their very special t-shirts.  These instructions eventually morphed into "please write 3 English words on your t-shirt."

After 2 hours, the top 3 best designs emerged in the first ever Did You Really Put That on Your Very Special T-Shirt contest...

3rd place: "Pirates...breaking free"           (What?)

2nd place: " We're cookies"                    (Ummm.....ok.)

...and 1st place goes to the four girls each with a large letter on their shirt...

"U",  "K",  "F",  and "C".                       (Really, I'm not making this up.)                  

I couldn't figure out what it was supposed to stand for, but at least they used English letters.

New Experiences

Here's a few pics from our dinner last Saturday in the coastal town of Uljin.  

It doesn't get any fresher than this.

4 Months

The memory of boarding that airplane at GSP seems so distant.  But at the same time it feels like just yesterday.  Four months.  Four whole months.  Have we really gone without Chick-fil-A, Mountain Dew, and Asheville for a third of a year?

When we left Greenville, we didn’t leave much behind.  Most of our furniture, clothes, and “stuff” either went to friends, neighbors, or the Goodwill.  I sold my truck.  We didn’t want to rent a storage unit or put the burden on our families of keeping all of our things until we returned.  The romantic idea of traveling the world with everything we owned stuffed into a backpack was beginning to look more and more like a real possibility.

I secretly count the days until we get to go home.  But at the same time both Jessica and I have mixed emotions in our heads.  We’ve got a very good thing going for us in Yeongju.  The jobs are great.  Professional.  We actually make enough money to have a significant savings account.  Neither of us have ever experienced that before.  Jessica’s boss wants to renew her contract and then hire me after my current contract ends in September.  There are many benefits that would come with staying a year longer than we had planned. 

We didn’t leave promising careers.  It wasn’t hard to abandon the only place we had ever known.  Our families and closest friends would always be our family and closest friends. 

We’ve never been so close to the Great Wall of China.  Mt. Fuji.  The DMZ.  I’ve never had such a steady diet of healthy food.  We’re celebrities here.  There is opportunity every single day to see something that we’ve never seen before.  It’s the adventure I’ve wanted for so long.

I’ve read my share of travel authors in the past few years.  One thing that seems to characterize them all is something that strangely resembles an addiction.  Not to drugs.  Not to alcohol.  Not to gambling.  They all seem to be addicted to motion.  They can’t settle.  Something inside compels them to keep moving.  To keep travelling. 

The need to travel is a mysterious force. A desire to go runs through

me equally with an intense desire to stay at home.  An equal and

 opposite thermodynamic principle.  When I travel, I think of home

and what it means.  At home I’m dreaming of catching trains at night

in the gray light of Old Europe, or pushing open shutters to see

Florence awaken.  The balance just slightly tips in the direction of the

Airport.

                                                                                         Frances Mayes

                                                                                         A Year in the World

There’s always a village, or people, or distant mountain to see.  A moment to capture.  Something out there, some adventure, is always more appealing than home.  That’s how I feel right now.

So at the 4 month mark, that’s our dilemma.  What should we do after the next 8 months pass?  What is waiting for us back at home?  We’re living the experience of a lifetime.  How do you follow that without looking back?

Lessons in Language

I remember one day in my Conversational Spanish class at North Greenville when my instructor said that an indication that one understands a foreign language is when he/she grasps the humor.  I remember wondering what the importance of understanding why the chicken crossed the road in Ciudad Juarez was.  Or maybe it was significant because he did it without getting his head cut off or shot.

Yesterday one of my co-teachers posted several Hello Kitty pictures on her Facebook profile (remember, this is Asia).  One of the pictures was of Hello Kitty in a pink one-piece set of bunny pajamas.  It was complete with feet and a big cotton ball tail.  In my signature dry-humor sort of way, I casually commented that I have a set of PJ’s just like that.  After school Susie asked me where I got them.  No smile.  Serious question.

I understand now what my professor at NGC was talking about.  It’s not a matter of understanding the cultural humor, but rather having such a grasp of the language that you can determine when someone is being serious and when someone is not.  In light of yesterday’s events, I’m now concerned about this weekend’s English Camp in Osan.  The director of the camp asked if I knew any magic tricks that I could do and explain to the students in English.  Again, in classic dry fashion, I said I could saw one of the other co-teachers in half.  No response.  I won’t be surprised if there’s a long box with a hand saw waiting for me on Saturday.  

So an Octopus, a Squid, and a Blowfish walk into a karaoke bar….

2011: Year of the New Experience - Part 1

I don't know why I even try.  The last time I attempted to ski was in February 2000.  Winterplace, WV.  It was a disaster.  I can manage to get myself on the ski lift.  I can even make my legs work when it's time to exit the lift at the top.  I can zip right down the mountain, staying on my feet.  No problem.

It's the stopping.  I can't do it.

Generally I volunteer some poor soul to help me.  Actually it's more like they stop me.  Well, more to the point, I crash into them.  I know.  I'm THAT guy.  People must hate me.

Back in 2000 I swore to myself I would never go skiing again.  For 11 years I've been OK with that decision.  But I'm living in Korea now.  Everything is brand new.  I'm a new person.  When her boss, Mrs. Kim, invited us to go skiing with her family, Jessica was very excited. She's never skied before.  This was going to be a brand new experience for her, and I was happy to oblige.

After about 2 hours on the icy highway last Saturday, we stop for lunch at a glorified interstate rest stop.  It was something like a mall food court in the middle of nowhere.  Six of us pile out of the car and battle the snowy headwind to get inside.  The first thing I see is a large sign advertising "Grilled Skewer Octopus Balls."

Not a single golden arch in sight....

Picture(s) of the Week

Here's a couple of pictures from yesterday.  Stories to follow...

English class

One of my co-teachers took this video of me teaching my English class.

American?

Part of my job description is to participate in other school's English programs when asked by my principal.  On Jan. 15 I'll be in a small town called Osan (just south of Seoul) to be one of three native speakers at an English Camp for about 50 high school students.  The director of this weekend camp sent me an email yesterday detailing the event and my responsibilities.  One thing I've been asked to do is present a 30 minute power point presentation about American culture.  To get me going on this task, the director suggested a few topics to include.  What do your people look like?  What do they eat?  This got me thinking about what exactly American culture is.  I'm really not sure.  What do we look like?  There are white Americans.  Black Americans.  Asian Americans.  Hispanic Americans.  etc. etc. etc.  What do we eat?  McDonalds?  My favorite places to eat back at home are Monterrey's and Joy of Tokyo...obviously not American.  What am I?  What makes me distinctly American?  Is it that I'm white and speak English?  In that case I could be Australian, Canadian, British, etc. 

America is such a diverse place.  "Melting Pot" was the term used in my 8th grade Social Studies class.  No matter what part of the country a Korean person is from, the same formalities are used in speech to communicate respect. In America, a person from the South says yes ma'am and yes sir.  In the North this is viewed as slightly disrespectful, or sassy (so I'm told). 

Needless to say, I'm at a loss.  I'm halfway tempted to go the route of pop culture, which is 'strictly' American.  But I'll confess I'm embarrassed to use the likes of Justin Bieber, the Miami Heat, and American Idol to represent myself. 

Any help would be greatly appreciated!

Picture(s) of the Week

Ricky the Racoon

Daegu at night

Train yard

Views of Yeongju

Sunday

Yeah ya'll wish your local grocer was crunk like this. 

This kind of music is always playing in this little grocery store near our apartment.  I don't think the employees know what is being said.  Actually I'm convinced they don't know what it's saying.  And that makes it even more fun to go in.  

2010

2010 began like any other year.  365 days ago I was working a dead-end job for a dead-end boss.  Monkey Joe’s.  “Manager.”  That’s what they called me.  I should have known better.  I was the fifth or sixth “manager” in the past year.  But the money was too good to pass up, relatively speaking.  I quit two days later after less than a month on the job.  Starbucks was gracious enough to take me back.  However, it was another dead end.  No future there.  Sure the weekly pound of coffee beans was great, but you can’t build a life on that.  I was making payments on a house that I didn’t actually live in.  Nonexistent money down the proverbial drain.  No goals.  Just floating along.  Waiting.  I didn’t know exactly what I was waiting on.  A good idea?  The lightbulb over my head?  The thing I wanted to do for the rest of my life?  All of the above actually.

A week or so earlier I had given Jessica a world map and a large coffee table book, 20 Wonders of the World, for Christmas.  It was our adventure book.  One of the many signs that confirmed she was the one for me was when we would pass the evening plotting our course around the world on the map pinned up on her bedroom wall.  There was a brightness in our eyes.  We were dreaming together.  But Starbucks and Chick-fil-A were always waiting for us the next day.  It was steady work.  Steady paychecks.  Travel is expensive.  Just out of reach.  

Fast forward to April.  I’m sitting in an attorney’s office closing on the sale of my house.  A burden gone.  Finally.  On top of that I’ve now got a little cash in my pocket.  The ‘wise’ thing would have been to pay off a few debts.  I considered it.  But I found a wiser way to use the money.  I invested it.  In myself.  The debts could wait.  They always do.  I registered for a TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) certification course at Greenville Tech.  The month-long intensive course began in the summer.  And intensive it was.  My week generally consisted of going to work at 5:30am and then going straight to class at 11am.  Some nights I would have class until 6pm and then go straight to work to close down the store.  It was a long month.  But after so much seemingly wasted time I had a goal that pushed me along.

    

August.  I made one of the smartest decisions of my life.  And she said yes.

We planned the most perfect wedding in 27 days.  I wouldn’t have done things any differently.  Our families and closest friends were there.  It was perfect.  At the end when we were introduced as husband and wife, we exited the ceremony to the sound of Robert, Jimmy, John Paul, and Bonzo doing a live version of Rock and Roll. 

Exactly two weeks later Jessica and I were hugging our families in terminal A at Greenville-Spartanburg International Airport.  Korea was just 22 hours away.  Adventure was out there.  And it was ours for the taking.