An open letter

Dear big city, 20-something, Korean men,

I’m just going to lay it out there: you’re whipped.  A pansy.  You wear the dress in the relationship.  Now don’t get me wrong, I understand and embrace the idea of the gentleman.  I get it.  I really do.  Opening the door for ladies.  Paying the bill.  Giving her your coat when she’s cold.  Etc. etc. etc.  I also understand that all of you at this age have spent a minimum of 2 years in the military.  You can shoot guns.  You’re trained in Tae kwon do.  You could probably even kill me with your bare hands if you so choose. 

But please, I’m begging you, stop carrying her purse.  I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming it is indeed HER purse, and you are simply guided by some misunderstanding of chivalry.  So please do yourself a favor: take the man parts out of the bag, put them where they go, and give it back to her.

Sincerely,

A concerned foreigner

Contractual Obligations

I knew what I was getting myself into.  To a certain degree.  My contract with the Yeongju Education Board contained the obligatory fine print…

Article IX

The Employee will submit his or herself to no less than

fifteen (15) awkward moments per semester.  These moments

will be provided by the school in which the Employee is assigned.

If less than the required minimum awkwardness is experienced,

the Employee shall forfeit the appropriate number of allotted

paid vacation days to offset the above requirement at a rate

of one (1) paid vacation day per three (3) unused awkward

moments.

I really can’t complain.  I had it in writing.  These kinds of things were bound to happen. 

Ralph, which is the English name I gave him, is the Special Education teacher at my school.  He is the kind of guy that would give you the shirt off his back.  Gentle.  Soft spoken.  Genuinely concerned for your well-being.  Ralph has helped us in many ways since we arrived in Yeongju.  Like the time I casually mentioned that I wanted a used bicycle to peddle around town and the countryside.  Ralph sought out every used bike store in town and offered to take me there to make sure I got a good deal.  Or like the time he retrieved the zip lock sandwich bags from the front of the bus so I could vomit in them on the way back from Seoul.  He’s just an all-around good guy. 

Because of Winter break, I haven’t seen Ralph since the week before Christmas.  During the break when Jessica and I had lunch with my co-teacher Susie, I commented in passing “I miss Ralph.  I wonder what he’s up to.”  Just casual conversation.

Monday morning arrives.  School is back in session.  The teachers are gathered in the office sharing coffee, tea, and a strawberry flavored breakfast bread.  As we walk to the office Susie is very giddy.  “Ralph is here!” 

“Oh ok,” I reply, wondering why she’s so excited.

I’m now standing in the office sipping my small paper cup of instant coffee.  Ralph appears at the door.  The group of teachers between us part down the middle and everyone falls silent.  Smiles all around.  Susie, still giddy, points and says “there he is!  I told him you missed him.”  Ralph looks equally as giddy.

The scene was like something out of a movie, where lovers separated by war and thousands of miles are finally reunited.  Ralph walks toward me, everyone staring.  He puts out both hands.  Is he trying to hug me?  The awkwardness is almost unbearable, but it is finally pushed over the edge when Sophy, my other co-teacher, says “hug.  Hug him.”  No smile.  Serious.  “Ummm…we’ll hug later.”

Maybe this is just part of the culture.

I tried to defuse the situation by asking a lot of questions.  How was your vacation?  What did you do?  Did you go home for the New Year?  Eventually everyone resumed their conversations and mingled away.

I’m sure my face was blood red.  But at least I get to keep my vacation days.

Picture(s) of the Week

Except for a few half days of work, I've been on Winter vacation since Dec. 22.  And strangely enough, I'm tired of it.  I want to go back to work.  Jessica and I traveled down to Busan, a big city on the south eastern coast of Korea for a couple of days to bring our time off to a close.  Here are a couple of pictures she took.

Thing I don't miss about America #17

America…

Several years ago, I worked as part of a management team at a local restaurant in Greenville.  As is common in the food service industry, there were about 5 or 6 Hispanic employees.  Again, as is common in the food service industry, these Hispanic employees generally worked in the kitchen (away from the customers) and were collectively referred to as the Mexicans.  If you spent anywhere between 15 and 30 seconds getting to know these people, you would learn two things.  First, they are not all Mexican.  Several of them were, but Guatemala and Colombia were also represented.  Secondly, they spoke English more intelligently than some people I’ve met from places like Travelers Rest and Dacusville. 

The words of a certain hobbit-sized manager still ring in my ears.  “If you’re gonna live here, learn English.”  My heart sank every time he said it.  They only spoke Spanish to each other.  It was a more efficient way of communicating.  All of the Hispanic employees spoke English at a conversational level.  All except for one, but she was trying her best to learn.  She at least spoke enough to perform her job.

If you’re gonna live here, learn English.

Korea…

Jessica and I took the train to Andong last night to see a movie at the Lotte Cinema.  There is always at least one movie playing in English.  The movie ended around 9pm, and the next train back home to Yeongju departed the station at 2:15am.  We opted to walk to the bus station, only about 200 yards down the road.  To our surprise, the bus station was no longer there.  A new one had been built and opened since we were last in town.

 The extent of my Korean is sufficient to say “bus station.  Where?”

We approached a middle aged couple exiting a restaurant, probably celebrating the eve of the New Year (Chinese/Lunar new year), and said as best we could, “bus station.  Where?”  They spoke to each other, and then signaled for us to follow.  Across the street, the man folded the dry cleaning that was hanging in the back seat and put it into the trunk.  The lady cleared out several items from the back seat as well, and motioned for us to get in.  They drove us to the new bus station, about 20 minutes away.  Neither of them ever hesitated.  Along the way, the couple tried their best get to know us.  The man was able to ask “are you American?”  His wife managed to piece together “Where do you live?”  They were genuinely trying their best to accommodate us.  In OUR language.

This isn’t the first time this has happened.  Nor will it be the last.  I have yet to meet anyone inconvenienced by the fact that neither of us speak the language.  Rather they go out of their way to help us.    

I'm going to miss this place.

Quick Update

• Thanks to Winter Break, Foot and Mouth disease, and Chinese New Year I've worked a grand total of 5 half days and 1 full day since Dec. 22.  I think I've forgotten how to work.
• No, I didn't contract Foot and Mouth disease.  The cows, pigs, chickens, etc. in the little town where my school is got it.  Roads were closed down for a few weeks so that cars didn't spread the disease/bacteria on their tires.  
• Jessica and I are going to the southern coastal town of Busan tomorrow for a couple of nights.  We're staying at a backpacker's hostel.  The weather report says 50 degrees and sunny....which translates "tropical" to us.  

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.