Fun on Mountains and Military Bases.

Okay I’ve had a really eventful weekend. Many cool things happened, I’ve got a bunch of nice pictures to share, and even a few videos. I’m not going to bother with a flowery, creative attention-getter…let’s just dive into this thing.

Craving a home-like atmosphere, I managed to convince a small group of friends to go explore the nightlife down near Songton Airforce Base. After school on Friday I took a quick run up Chilbo San (I learned the Korean word for mountain) before meeting Brett and his girlfriend Jessica outside of Suwon Station. Within minutes we were exchanging the usual pleasantries on board the Korail bound for Songton. Brett and Jessica are wonderful people, having been in the country about the same period of time as myself, the two hail from Georgia and have been together since high school. We were so deeply entrenched in each others dialogue that we got off at the wrong station, a minor setback.

Matt was hanging out at the main gate when we got to town and after exchanging a brief hello we wasted no time making our way to the closest bar. As much as I love the diverse, strange happenings occurring every day in Korea, there is something comforting about a homey dive bar that plays rock and roll and where fat, bearded men who own the gigantic chrome Harleys leaning out front come to gulp cheap beer and play pool. One cannot stress enough the psychological well being derived from belting corny songs, laughing at bad jokes, and revealing amateur, adolescent exploits in the company of good friends. In our case this managed to be accomplished after only two pitchers of beer. Emerging from the first bar we were taken by the dark Songton evening, cool, arid, and dreamily cascaded in neon. I took a couple nifty pictures of my surroundings before coming across a club called Seven Star. I’m willing to bet that there are at least one or two people reading this that can share the nostalgia this particular club’s name stirred in me.

Eventually we came to an underground club where we were approached by “Juicy Girls,” scantly dressed yet, in my opinion, unattractive escorts who sat at our table and made, what I thought, were attempts at solicitation. I assumed that they were just Filipino prostitutes but Matt insisted that they were only present to lure male patrons into the bar and would not actually have sex with you for money. I honestly think paying for sex is repulsive and the thought of handing over hard-earned cash to copulate with a complete stranger and more than likely contract an STD makes my stomach turn. But if Matt was right, these girls weren’t even full blown hookers...just poor conversationalists with horrible fashion sense and a penchant for latex. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. It’s like seeing a guy wearing a blue uniform, a badge, and carrying a gun but who won’t stop you from robbing a bank. And if these girls weren’t whores than they were really only there to be teases, which strikes be as both insulting and counterproductive (sorry for any suggestive language, I strive to withhold vulgarities from this publication but sometimes you just have to call a spade a spade). They were good for a quick laugh at first but quickly became annoying. I came here to relax with my friends, I kept thinking, not pursue an awkward, barely decipherable verbal exchange with some impoverished girl I have nothing in common with. The Airforce personnel in the club seemed to enjoy the fabricated affection, a girl on each arm, as if the transparent sexual facade somehow justified their manhood. I, on the other hand, just nodded apathetically in time with the Juicy Girl's broken English rambles, occasionally offering a guttural "uh huh" as more of a plead to be left alone with my beer than an actual acknowledgement of her presence. We only stayed in that bar for a few rounds before venturing towards a less obviously dissolute establishment, but not before snapping a sarcastic picture for the blog.

The Juicy Girls were certainly the most blog worthy event of the night but it was far from over. We visited lots of cool pubs in Songton, threw some darts, made some jokes. The night was defined by spontaneous levity. Eventually, Matt and I proceeded to the nearest Jinjibang, Brett and Jessica having returned to Suwon via taxi. The sauna appeared to have been converted from a retired grocery store and was moderately luxurious. Searching for the locker rooms, Matt and I accidentally wound up on the roof where several ferocious canines were chained to a large, derelict neon sign. I wasn’t in a mood to question the reason for keeping mean, undomesticated dogs in such a spontaneous location, so instead I grabbed a quick shower and fell asleep in a spacious, yet humid sleeping room.

On Saturday afternoon I picked up my phone to call Jessica. One of the interesting tid-bits she offered while we imbibed the previous evening was an opportunity to see Gary Sinise in concert at a USO show. It sounded like just the type of material I needed to put together I compelling blog entry. For those of you who don’t know, Gary Sinise played Lieutenant Dan in Forest Gump, amongst other notable acting roles. He travels to USO shows, playing bass guitar in the Lieutenant Dan Band for the purpose of entertaining troops. The show was located on a base called Camp Casey about three hours north near the DMZ. While transferring trains in some open farm town up north an altercation between a locomotive operator and a civilian erupted on the platform. In the two months I’ve been in the country this is the third time I’ve seen grown men angrily lose control in public. Every time this happens it becomes a sort of spectator sport, both foreigners and natives gathering to observe the commotion. I couldn’t tell you what the fight was about and I find that it’s more interesting that way, but I managed to grab a quick video.



Patty was Jessica’s Army friend and our ticket onto a U.S. Military Base. After passing through the security checkpoint I became aware that for the first time in almost ten weeks I was standing on U.S. soil. I know nothing about the geography was different but there was a subtle tingle of familiarity about the place that perked the corners of my mouth into a sly, comforting grin. Only dollars were accepted on the base, which presented a problem when I tried to get a twelve pack at the canteen, but I met some cool soldiers who traded me dollars for my Won. Never anticipated that problem. One cool thing about the base was the American car dealerships where one could drive off with a fully loaded Hemi Challenger for only $21,000…that is of course if you are an active member of the military.

The Lieutenant Dan Band was entertaining. I mean, with a roster of decent 70’s and 80’s cover songs they were by no means a defining impact on the overall evolution of music…but... I was entertained.


I left around 10 p.m. because I wanted to get as close as possible to Seoul before the subway shut down. I made it to Itaewon where I met up with Mark, the coolest thing to ever come out of Nebraska. We knocked back a few before I wandered off and got lost. Unable to find the bar where I had left my friends I just decided to pay the exorbitant fee of 40,000 Won to take a taxi back to my apartment. I suppose it was worth it to sleep in my own bed as opposed to another jinjibang.

Today marked the first day that students had finals and at 12:30 I was told by the higher ups that I could go home early. Awesome! Having a long afternoon I consented to do some hiking, but Chilbo San was getting boring. There was a mountain range on the other side of Suwon that looked like a challenge and that I had been meaning to attempt for quite some time. Ms. Huh informed me that it was called Gwanggu San and was easy to get to on the #13 Bus (where can’t I take the #13 bus?). At the base of the mountain a huge radio installation can be seen perched atop the summit. As I proceeded up the entranceway to Gwanggu San I passed a deep, grey reservoir. On the opposite side of the dam, in the cool shade of over hanging branches, a school of enormous wild Koi swam lazily back and forth; each one of them much larger than a cat.

The climb was easily four times that of Chilbo San and in the scorching, humid afternoon I was quickly drenched in sweat before even making it a quarter of the way up. I passed some really friendly people who wanted to know if I was a teacher or a soldier. I also passed some ignorant racist jerks that spit at the ground as I walked pass them. Wasn't the first time, won't be the last. Upon reaching the ridge my heart was pounding and my breath was coming in deep, rapid gasps. I find the geographical layout of the mountain ranges in this country to be fascinating. There seems to be no plateaus or conical projections, but only thin successive ridges, as if the whole country had been squeezed on two sides, forming patterns of narrow wrinkles across the topography. I have yet to see a ridge line that is wider than ten meters before dropping off at either side. The steep trek had brought me to the ridge but I needed to proceed further uphill to get to the peak. Climbing the face of Gwanggu San was steep but relatively unobstructed, where as the ridge was a shallow climb but covered in rocky outcrops…so pick your poison. The view from the top was breathtaking but despite my best efforts I was unable to get a good picture of the cityscape spread out far below. The air was so saturated in moisture that every snapshot resulted in a misty white blur. I hiked over to the radio installation, taking some time to ponder how such a massive structure could be erected in the absence of roads but was unable to formulate a hypothesis. Heavy lifting helicopters perhaps? I took my time hiking down, listening to birdcalls and watching butterflies hover in and about wildflowers before boarding a bus back home.

As a final note to this incredibly long entry I’d like to say Happy Birthday to my niece Avery Jayne and congratulations to my brother and his wife on becoming parents. I’m sure it’s an exciting time for the family back home and I can’t wait to see the little cutie in person. Someone on the other side of the world loves you guys.

Cool Thing About Korea #15: These pretty little Dragonflies that have taken to hovering near my apartment door and don’t seem to mind posing for pictures.

Mediocre Reflections

I spent a good twenty minutes staring at my keyring today, contemplating it. There are several keys that I require on a daily basis hanging from the worn Miller Lite bottle opener and fancy nail clippers disguised as a decorative lion. Keys for my apartment, my classroom. But there are other keys that have no business here. A key for my car, for my girlfriend's apartment, for my parents house. Why did I bring these here? Why do I carry them with me day to day? I have no answer to these questions and the inquiry itself is not compelling enough a reason to inhibit me from continuing to do so.

The majority of my week has been routine. I wake up, get a shower,ride the #13 bus to school, eat an orange with coffee while the students are in homeroom, teach two classes, enjoy a free period, go to lunch and eat whatever weird Korean concoction happens to be served (most of the time it's edible, often it's fairly enjoyable, once in a while I reluctantly choke it down) while struggling to converse with my co-workers, play some baseball with the students, shoot the breeze with Mr. Kim the custodian who owns a super fast Kia Coupe and knows how to have a good time after work, check Facebook and G-mail, teach two more classes, play pop music for the girls who show up to clean my classroom, turn everything off, catch the bus or bum a ride back to Tapdong, open the windows and turn on the fan to air the mustiness out of my house caused by the wet bathroom floor, run to and hike Mount Chilbo or run around the lake and go lift at the gym, admire the squadrons of fighter jets, call up some friends to get dinner or make Kimbap and salad at home, play X-Box, call Rachael, fall asleep while watching an American movie on Super Action. On Wednesday there was a slight change in routine as I got to go observe another foreign teacher who has been here for eight months. I thought that the classes I teach are not only more effective and educational than hers but probably more fun for the students so I felt good about that.

This week I'm showing clips from Indiana Jones, primarily the temple scene from the beginning of Raiders which I've seen almost twenty times now. I can recite it by heart and admit that it seems progressively more corny every time it is screened.
"Dr. Jones, again we see that there is nothing you can possess which I cannot take away, and you thought I'd given up. You chose the wrong friends and this time it will cost you."
"Too bad the Hojvitos don't know you the way I do Belloch."
"Yes too bad. You could warn them...if only you spoke Hojvitos."
I made a work sheet with about ten short phrases describing the scene such as, "Giant spiders," "Indy switches idol for bag of sand," or "Jock, start the engine." Then I mix them all up and leave it to the students to arrange them in the right order. Naturally, I prime their motivation with lots of candy. It's a very fun lesson and teaching it makes my day go by really fast. There have been a lot of class cancellations this week because they are studying for finals which always dissapoints me because I'd rather be fooling around with the kids than reading sick novels (American Psycho), blogging, or streaming South Park episodes.

I've eased into the role of instructor with little resistance and find that I have a natural inclination towards the occupation. A big part of the job is motivating and disciplining students who are either unruly or don't want to learn. The psychological strife that persists between students and educator both fascinates and beguiles me, but I am the more clever of the two and outwitting them is hardly an insurmountable challenge. Allow me to present you with an example. Last week I had a student who would say "wow" in a condescending tone after every thing I asked them to repeat.

Me- "I am a doctor and I treat patients."
Unruly student - "Wow!"
Me - "I am a police officer and I enforce the law."
Unruly student - "Wow!"
Me - "I am pilot and I fly airplanes."
Unruly student - "Wow!"

I try to give them a little slack because I understand their situation. They study for 12 hours a day, six days a week, and they are exhausted from preparing for finals but this kid was clearly trying to disrespect me and his distraction threatened to undermine my control of the class. To counter his exclamatory salvo I simply began to say wow myself and got the rest of the class to join in.

Me - "I am a dentist and I clean teeth. Wow!"
Unruly student and class - "I am a dentist and I clean teeth. Wow!"
Me - "I am driver and I drive a bus. Wow!"
Unruly student and class - "I am a driver and I drive a bus. Wow!"

By utilizing his distraction to my advantage I took the power away from him and regained control. Everyone was laughing, having a good time, and before you know it he was tired of saying "wow!" I find that embarrassing them is also affective. If a student won't be quiet or is continually talking over me I'll ask them to come sit up front with Mr. Popielarski. The rest of the class thinks it's funny but they'll quiet down because they don't want to suffer the same fate. Singling out a student from his friends goes a long way here and it's a very effective means of discipline. You can also stop the lesson and just stare at them. It usually quiets them down right away but if they don't notice my piercing gaze while they continue to ramble on then their friends will catch on and warn them. As a last resort, if a student is being completely disrespectful and simply will not comply I just tell him to leave the room. It serves to single them out and since they have nowhere to go except the principle's office, they'll likely have their parents called. I've only had to do that once and I reserve it for extreme situations because it means that their parents are probably going to beat the snot out of them for disrespecting a teacher. Still, when one student is cast out of the room the rest of them immediately fall into line. It's like how Vlad the Impaler would demoralize his enemies by skewering his prisoners on long pikes for everyone to see. Who's gonna take a chance getting captured by that guy? I also find that if you know it's going to be a wild class than you can't, for any reason, let them sit next to their friends. I usually split them into equal groups of boys and girls before I even get started or it will simply be me against the masses. You may know this military tactic as "divide and conquer" and I'll even say that to their faces before switching their seats, "Okay guys, time to divide and conquer."

I went to a Galbi restaurant on Tuesday night that is popular with my friends and which is referred to as Heejay's, though I'm pretty sure that's the owner's name rather than that of the establishment. Eating Galbi is just as much about the food and it is the social exchange. Twelve of us filled three outdoor tables, taking turns roasting pork, pouring Cass, laughing, joking, enjoying the night air and vibrant, though blighted Oriental mise en scene. Also managed to find the Laos Bar (not Now Bar), a place I've been hearing about since I touched down in this country as an establishment where expats congregate. I didn't think it was that great but to be fair I really didn't give it a chance. Perhaps it deserves a second day in court. Well, I'm tired. Goodnight.

Cool Thing About Korea #14: Samsung makes everything. Seriously, every appliance in my apartment is Samsung; air conditioner, refrigerator, television, cell phone, toaster, microwave, rice cooker, gas range, washing machine...I even think my shower head is Samsung. It makes sense because the corporate headquarters is in Suwon..but wow...Samsung.

I Can't Believe They Pay Me For This

Have I really been in South Korea for two months already? The time is flying by and there is still so much that I want to accomplish. With the low cost of living, exposure to diverse perspectives, and proximity to countless tropical beaches the prospect of remaining in Asia for several years becomes increasingly more attractive with each passing day. I feel guilty about not updating this blog sooner but with so many cool foreigners to interact with it is sometimes difficult to find a few hours on the weekend to jot down my thoughts. Luckily for you I have a clear schedule this evening so go get a cup of coffee, put on some relaxing music, maybe a Snuggie™, and let my mystical tales of Eastern enlightenment transfix and astound you.

I was walking home from the bus stop last Monday when I saw four or five guys gutting the local Beer Plus with crowbars and sledgehammers. The Beer Plus was just a place to get cheap Cass on draft and though it was a helpful landmark in my neighborhood I had no real attachment to it. I figured the construction workers were just giving the place a much-needed face lift so I continued on my way expressing little interest in the torn drywall and 2X4’s. While making my way out to the main road the following morning I was shocked to see a fully operational Family Mart convenience store occupying the space where the Beer Plus had stood only 15 hours before. The Family Mart looked like it had been there forever and there wasn’t a hint of construction in the vicinity. That small crew of construction workers must have worked through the night to erect the convenience store in that location. The work ethic required for such a task is truly astounding.

I spent four days this week at a GEPIK sponsored conference for foreign teachers which was a welcome change of pace from the demands of a middle school class room and I was happy to be provided with so many creative lesson plans. The strongest strategy I learned for relating to my students is to incorporate K-Pop into the lessons, a method that never seems to fail in captivating a large class of 40 rowdy teenagers. I personally hate K-Pop, finding it to be annoying, artistically sterile, and the shameless musical embodiment of materialism but if it makes my work that much easier I suppose I’ll give it a shot. Check out these K-Pop songs and see what you think.













The classes were okay, some far better than others, but the food sucked miserably. I guess it was all right for free. The seminar took place on a large two building campus in the Osan countryside and about 400 foreigners were in attendance. I was happy to mingle with so many English-speakers who not only live nearby my town but also have an equal amount of experience in South Korea and again my notion that South Africans are the coolest people in the world was repeatedly reinforced.
Recreational time was spent hitting balls at an on site driving range (where this nice guy Brett managed to launch a club into some overhead florescent lights, sending forth a terrible bang, sparks, and broken glass), attempting to climb a 60 foot cargo net but continually chickening out in the absence of a safety line, and sneaking contraband Soju through the compound’s security perimeter. My roommate was a socially inept Mormon fellow who could not be convinced to join the larger crowd for a good time. Perhaps it is a character flaw, but while I always try to remain open-minded it is no secret to my friends that I speak quite frankly and can often be abrasive in social situations. I realize that my sense of humor can be overbearing while my interaction stratagem rather tactless and with these particular qualities I often question how I’ve managed to garner so many friends in the first place. Needless to say the conflicting personalities of the chaste Mormon and myself reacted like ice cubes in a deep fryer and on more than one occasion my friends commented that our turbulent scenario was perfect sitcom material.

Friday was challenging to say the least. Since I was just recently paid I wanted to buy plane tickets for Rachael and I to vacation on Jeju Island in August. The cheapest tickets were available online but I would need a credit card to purchase them. At the present I only have my MasterCard debit card from my bank account in Pennsylvania so I would have to transfer money to the States using my Korean bank’s Web-banking service. Web-banking here is extremely secure and complicated, compounded even more so by the difficulties of the language barrier. Instead of just logging onto the bank’s website like back home you are actually required to download some strange software for security purposes but since this software isn’t compatible with my Macbook I had to download it onto the POS terminal at school. This means that every time I want to transfer money home I have to do so from my classroom. So on Friday afternoon I made my way to Chilbo, trying not to be seen by my co-workers because I was unshaven and dressed extremely casually. It took me close to half an hour just to log onto the Web-banking site due to the virus-ridden terminal I was using, the unnecessary amount of passwords that the bank has forced me to remember, and a non-existent understanding of the Korean language. I then spent another hour imputing various values, addresses, bank numbers and alien characters while simultaneously struggling with the definition of words like “remittance” and “beneficiary.” Error messages bombarded the screen and in the end I was unable to convince the all-knowing system that I was worthy of a transfer, but with my boundless creativity I managed to conceive a solution to my problem. I called up my buddy Jared, and knowing that he had a credit card in Korea, convinced him to pay for my tickets in exchange for cash. Wheew, I need a vacation from planning this vacation.

After departing Chilbo Middle School I rode the bus up to Suwon Station and got my first Korean haircut. I had brought some passport photos with me to illustrate to the stylist what I was hoping for but after a botched Koreanesque trim and an alteration in which the hairdresser attempted to make my bangs resemble the front of a 68’ Mustang, I just had her do the whole thing with the buzzer. The resulting look is functional but reveals the beginnings of a peninsula-like receding hairline that clearly foreshadows a presence identical to that of my father. Still, the ladies were really nice and it was a fun experience.

Today I rode the train out to Songton because I needed new work shirts and I was told that it was a great place to go shopping because of how near it was to the U.S. Air Force base. The town was in fact really cool. Foreign military personnel were everywhere, people drove American muscle cars and Harley Davidsons, the Korean merchants spoke fluent English, and there was a ton of cool, American stuff to buy. Also there are bars and clubs just like in the States with good draft beer, rugged bartenders, pool tables, and most importantly balls-to-the wall American hair metal. While I love knowing that I can hop a quick train down here whenever I happen to feel a little homesick, there is a part of me that feels like the soldiers who have Americanized this town and made it their own are cheating themselves out of the richer cultural experiences that Korea has to offer. Still, I’ll be back shortly and next time I’ll bring my camera.

Well that’s enough for now. Before I go I’d like to reflect on a significant change that I’ve noticed in the way I respond to external conflict. With so many little frustrations and challenges playing a part in my day to day life I’ve become aware that I can handle almost any situation with composure and that it takes a great deal of pressure to really upset me. Just one of the life skills I was hoping to further develop in the Land of the Morning Calm.

Cool Thing About Korea #13: Electric and Gas Bill $17, A month of cell phone service $10, Cable TV and Broadband Internet Bill $13

oh yeah...the greatest guitarist I know, Al Bloominhour, just went to England to hang out with Steve Vai. Props bro for doing some globetrotting.

BBQ and Norebang

Yeah it’s been a week since I posted anything. I’m not being lazy I just haven’t really had anything to say. Struggling with some writer’s block I suppose. Last Sunday I joined a gym down the street for 50,000 Won a month. I’ve been running three or four times a week but I really wanted to get back into lifting...you know, tone up the arms a little bit. I over did it my first time there and woke up in a lot of pain on Monday morning. I couldn’t even extend my arms straight until Thursday but the noticeable difference in size was rewarding and as soon as I could raise my hands over my head I eagerly made my way back for round two.

On Wednesday some Korean War vets visited the school and set up an outdoor exhibit of images from the worst parts of the conflict, a corridor of enlarged black and white photographs set on easel boards for students to contemplate. I took my time strolling from picture to picture, considering the bombed out cities, tanks, crying children, mass graves and body parts sloppily displaced by shrapnel and machine gun fire. Standing transfixed I searched myself for an emotional response or an understanding of the horrors that occurred in that time and place, yet knowing full well that the ability to describe chaotic reflections of war is a charge reserved only for those unlucky enough to have been there in the first place. I wondered if it was possible for these young kids, products of an accelerated consumerism based culture and strong western influence, to actually relate to the terrible events that occurred on their soil only a few decades ago. Or are they like I was at that age, shrugging off the annals of our fathers, World Wars, Vietnam, as uninteresting history lessons, irrelevant accounts overshadowed by the excitement of the present and the fast paced promises of the future? The vivid reminder of the atrocities men commit against each other struck a solemn note within me but I eventually concluded that my knowledge and experience of such things is limited and ultimately inconsequential.

Tony mentioned something about wakeboarding and barbecue on Saturday so I hopped a train to his hometown of Yongsu. I was never really that good at wakeboarding but I’ll rarely say no to sunshine and powerboats. Tony lives out in the sticks and on the long haul to the countryside I practiced reading station signs in the local language, Hangul. I taught myself the alphabet during some downtime at work and it’s actually pretty easy but I’m still sounding out consonants at a first grade level. The trickiest part is the over abundance of weird vowel combinations.

So I arrived in Yongsu only to find out that wake boarding was canceled due to the cloudy weather conditions, but there was still a good barbecue happening on top of a nearby rooftop. It was a great afternoon getting to know a bunch of other foreigners. Good food, beer, music…what more can you really ask for? Most of the foreigners there were South Africans. You don’t really meet those kind of people back in the States and I find them fascinating. They seem to be tougher than the English while maintaining a level of civility greater than that of Australians, but keep in mind that I’m largely basing my assumptions on stereotypes. They are the descendants of British colonists in Cape Town and they speak a really cool dialect of English that can morph into a weird Dutch hybrid without warning. They call this language Afrikaans. Over the course of the night I managed to master a phrase that means, “Fill my cup friend”: Khere may un dop brah. Also, they have really great insults and I was told that if you really want to put someone in their place you can say, Tu mas poose niar. I’ll refrain from translating that literally but it doesn’t take a linguistics professor to get the meaning. There was also one British guy who showed up to the party and being that my experience with the English is derived primarily from Guy Ritchie movies, I was understandably disappointed upon discovering that he had never participated in a heist or owed a gangster a sum of money he couldn’t possibly repay.

At around two in the morning a group decision was made to hit up the local norebang, an experience I had been anxiously anticipating for nearly two months now. This particular establishment was oddly themed around James Cameron’s Alien movies. Weird. I’ve always loved karaoke so I was sure that norebang would be awesome, yet I was honestly a little disappointed. With karaoke you are presented with the opportunity to make a fool out of yourself in front of a large crowd of strangers whereas in a norebang you only get to embarrass yourself in front of your friends. Also, the music selection was rather limited and I would have liked to see a little more hip-hop. Still, I cranked some classic heavy metal and rocked the houses like usual.

Tony and I said farewell to the awesome crew of foreigners around 4 a.m., and as the trains weren’t running we crashed in a nearby jinjibang. It wasn’t the greatest sauna ever but I was able to get a nice shower, clean pajamas, and comfortable space to pass out on the floor. Another Korean weekend successfully seized!

Cool Thing About Korea #12: Korean Football. Watching these guys play is awesome. I wish I had their hand-to-foot coordination. Dad, here's a little video of the game play per request.

Korea Match Cup

What a day! The fridge is full, there is a load of laundry hanging up to dry, and my lesson plans are all prepared, leaving me with seven solid hours to write and catch up on kung-fu movies while munching on home made Kimbop. Life is good.

Saturday morning was sunny and fair with just a delicate hint of wind. The day started much like that of any other weekend, with a crowded bus ride to Suwon Station. I rendezvoused with Matt at the terminal and we hopped on a bus towards Seoshin. Riding a long distance bus always seems like a gamble to me and though I have yet to get lost I rarely have confidence in a motor coach’s destination. Trains and subways offer clear, defined maps and station information in English. I never worry about whether or not the subway will get me to where I need to go. Buses on the other hand are far more confusing. To start, there are hundreds of different bus lines and numbers serving uncountable destinations. As far as I know there are no maps or itineraries made available to English speakers and I often catch a bus based solely on the whimsical recommendation of an acquaintance. We were on bus 400-1 for over an hour when I decided to approach a foreigner sitting several rows up from us.
“Excuse me,” I said, “are you heading to the yacht races?”
“Yes I am,” replied the stranger in a thick European accent.
“We don’t really know where we’re going,” I admitted, “do you mind if we follow you?”
“Ha!” he came back with a grin, “I was planning on following you.”
Fortunately for us the Italian national was pulling my chain and we spent the remainder of the trip exchanging the usual pleasantries. It turns out that he is an architect contracting for the U.S. military in Korea for the purpose of designing personnel housing. He was a very cool guy and even claimed to have had a hand in those huge, artificial islands that are being built in Dubai.

I am glad that I took a moment to approach the stranger because he knew of a necessary bus transfer that Matt and I would have otherwise over looked. While waiting for the transfer I couldn’t help noticing an old, steel bus wheel half buried in the asphalt. I realize that it is an irrelevant detail regarding the story at hand but it struck me as one of the laziest things I’ve ever seen. At some time in the past a road crew was constructing this particular street and instead of taking a moment to lift the wheel out of the way, they simply paved over it. Must be union workers.

Jeongok Marina was crowded with cheerful people joyously taking in the pleasant afternoon and as we made our way towards them I considered happy adjectives with which to describe the scene. We weeded in and around the throng, dodging tramcars, and inhaling the salty sea air enhanced by the flavorful splendor of deep-fried delights. It was impossible not to stop and enjoy several of what may be the best corn dogs ever before entering a large structure where enormous yachts I’ll probably never be able to afford were on display. They wouldn’t let us board the boats because we were clearly in no position to purchase one of them, but since I was looking for trouble I hastily climbed to the helm of this particular vessel for a quick snapshot.
As I jumped down I noticed unapproving grimaces from passer bys, but no one took it upon them selves to reprimand me. Are there no consequences in this country?

There was a huge stage area blasting techno and we passed several strangely dressed characters on the way to a long pier from which we could watch the races. I previously knew nothing about Match Racing and at the present the finer details continue to evade me. However, I was lucky enough to run into a Mr. Guy Norwell, who had a press pass from an online periodical, and he took some time to explain the basics to me. I’ll attempt to describe the event in my own words but for further reading feel free to consult Mr. Norwell’s website, Sail-World.com.

I understand that the Korea Match Cup is the largest, most profitable leg of a prestigious sailing tour that lasts through the year. The 12 crews are comprised of the most skilled sailors in the world. Two identical yachts sail at a time and are manufactured to the exact same specifications so that it is the skill of the crew which determines the winner rather than the performance of the boat. A barge sits at the starting line with numbered flags counting down the minutes while the two yachts play an elaborate game of cat and mouse, attempting to force the other crew into a penalty. A crew is disadvantaged by a penalty because they must complete a 360-degree turn before the end of the race or simply lose. I know what you may be thinking; what exactly constitutes a penalty? I asked Mr. Norwell the same question and he laughed before informing me that the list of such technicalities could fill a book, but common infractions include collisions and failing to yield to the starboard vessel. So after the numbered flags on the barge reach zero a horn is sounded and the two yachts take off on a set course, trailed by small, motorized boats carrying referees and photographers. The yachts are rather quick and the crews can be seen scrambling to handle their skiff. The sport is very high-society and after viewing five or six races I can see how it could become addicting.

During the races we couldn’t help but notice a beautiful island on the other side of the harbor that appeared to be connected to the shore by a barren land bridge. We had seen enough sailing and after purchasing some refreshing beverages we resolved to make our way out to it. It was a twenty-minute walk around the harbor to the thin stretch of muddy earth connecting the island to the shoreline.We proceeded out on the path but it was only moments before we realized that the bridge was submerged several hundred yards off in the distance. Still, it appeared shallow and I figured that we could wade easily enough across the expanse without getting too wet. I said that I was looking for trouble and I found it. We were knee deep when I realized that I had misjudged two very important things, the rate at which the tide came in and the actual distance to the island itself. I imagined that we were halfway out to the island but from our perspective it was difficult to tell and while safety became farther away the island didn’t really seem to get any closer. To add to our dilemma it was impossible to see where the path dropped off as it was completely submerged. It was only minutes until that recognizable whooo whoop of a law enforcement vehicle sounded behind us and as soon as we spun around a black and white hovercraft stenciled with “Police” could be seen closing in on our position. A sane person would be terrified at having been caught in such a scenario and drawing attention from the heat, but I couldn’t help tingling with the anticipation of a free hovercraft ride. Well we got to shore and I suppose the officials just wrote us off as dumb foreigners. One of them asked, “Didn’t you see the water?” in such a tone that he might as well have been saying, “What are you retarded?” They took our names down but didn’t even ask for ID. Then they told us to go have a good afternoon and stay out of trouble. It may have been pushing our luck but I needed a souvenir so I asked for a quick picture with our rescuers. Notice the hovercraft in the background.


Well, those were certainly the highlights of the weekend. We spent the evening wandering around Suwon but nothing really worth writing home about. Thanks again to everyone who reads and leaves feedback. It really makes this project that much more worth it.

Cool Thing About Korea #11: Online video games are huge here. Especially a MMORPG called Starcraft. There are even players who are so good that they receive corporate sponsor ship to play in competitions and there is a channel on TV that is basically ESPN for elite video gamers. 24/7 non-stop leveling up!

Jimjibang, Kimbop, and Fan Death

Between teaching, developing lesson plans, socializing with co-workers, meeting scores of foreigners, finding time to run up Mount Chilbo, and planning weekend excursions I have become extraordinarily busy. With so much going on I have been afraid that this little pet project of mine would suffer, but fortunately I seem to have fallen into a rhythm of getting my writing done on Thursdays and Sundays. A lot of cool stuff has happened this week so I'll just start at the beginning.

On Monday, as usual, I started a new lesson plan that I am happy to report has been going great all week and receives much praise from my co-teachers. I thought teaching occupations might be fun so I came up with 20 vocab words, threw together a Power Point, and made everyone repeat the given occupation in the form of "What I Am and What I Do." For example: I am a police officer and I enforce the law, I am a doctor and I treat patients, or I am a carpenter and I make things out of wood. After we went over the vocabulary I played a game called Monkeys and Bananas. First I made a large die out of cardboard, packaging tape, and crayons. On the six sides I drew one monkey, two monkeys, six monkeys and one banana, two bananas, six bananas. Each team starts with three bananas and the goal is to get as many bananas as possible. I show the team a slide with a word missing, "I am a ______ and I clean teeth." If they can correctly say the entire sentence they get to roll the die. If bananas come up they score points but if monkeys come up they lose that many points because monkeys eat bananas. Additionally, the team that just answered the question is allowed to roll the die for their team or any other team of their choosing. Every time six monkeys comes up there is a ton of laughter at the expense of the losing team and it is totally fun watching them try to cheat each other out of bananas.

After work on Monday I met up with a foreigner friend of mine, who lives nearby in Topdong, to go running up the mountain. Having a partner provides a much more effective workout and that night I ran twice as fast and twice as far as I had been going by myself. My heart was pounding and I was soaked with sweat by the time we reached the summit but I was alive and full of energy gazing out at the magnificent expanse. We continued to hike the ridge as far as it would go before descending near a temple and cemetery I had not yet come across. The natural mineral spring and scattered work-out equipment made this entrance to the mountain very accommodating yet surreal as it was set against a backdrop of rolling hills, wooden fences, and dissimilar tombstones. At this point we were miles from our starting point so we trekked back towards the east through flat, wet, rice patties and rural countryside. It was an invigorating three hour hike but I was hungry, beat, and in need of a shower.

It was suggested that we go freshen up at the local Korean sauna, or jinjibang. I hadn't been to one yet but I've heard good things so of course I was more than willing to give it a shot. I'll admit that I was skeptical. I mean, when I hear the word sauna I think of a bland wooden shack where you sit and sweat for a while. Big deal right? Well, it's actually far better than that. Most of the facility is located underground and as you descend the staircase you walk past a large, brick, dome shaped structure which is the exterior of one of the hot rooms. Inside you fork over a measly 8,000 won and are handed a set of pajamas in exchange. After removing your shoes you make your way to the men's side of the sauna, find a locker, and get naked. It felt a little weird to be exposed in the company of twenty or so strangers but after a few minutes it's quite liberating. In the locker room you can watch TV, get some snacks, or just hang out (get it?). Pass through some glass doors and you come to this spectacular tiled room with about 100 shower heads and five large, water-filled granite basins. The decor is immaculate. Every wall is covered with beautiful stones and crystals. Purple quartz, jade, onyx, and calcite form intricate antediluvian murals. You step under a shower and lather up with this little pink dish cloth they give you. After rinsing you can go soak in one of the granite hot tubs. Each one is about ten feet by ten feet, varies in temperature, and features an opulent jade frog spewing steaming hot water by the gallon. If you want to wake your self up really quick you can leave the hot tub and immediately throw yourself into this large pool of freezing cold water. It really shocks your system. There are several hot, dungeon like rooms that vary by temperature and humidity where you can sit on a wooden barrel, sweating profusely and struggling to breathe. It's supposed to be relaxing but I'd just as sooner stay in the soothing confines of the hot tub. Massages and a skin scraping procedure are also available for a price. The whole place really reminds me of how Roman baths were described. In the co-ed section of the sauna there is a fully equipped gym with free weights, treadmills, and other such contraptions. There are co-ed hot rooms and places to take a nap as well. One of the best things about the jinjibangs are that they are positioned all across the country and offer sleeping rooms. Many expats who are doing some travelling for the weekend prefer to stay at a jinjibang because it is a fully equipped facility with food, pajamas, bedding, and a shower for less than $8, or about 1/4 what you might pay for a hotel. Naturally I could not take my camera into a room full of naked Korean guys (nor would I really want to) so I'll have to use generic pictures of jinjibangs copied from the Internet to provide you with a visual representation. All these pictures are kinda lame and let me assure you that the sauna we went to was way cooler, but you get the idea.

I've really been wanting to learn how to make Kimbap because it's similar to what they serve in American sushi restaurants, minus the raw fish, and it is a sure fire way to impress Rachael when she comes to visit. I called up Charlie and struck a deal that I would buy dinner if he taught me how to make it. As a bonus, Charlie instructed me on how to use the cryptic red rice cooker that has been sitting behind my washing machine, unplugged and in disuse. It's a really easy meal to make. You lay out this thin sheet of processed seaweed, add a layer of rice, then radish, chicken, beef, fish, mayonnaise, skittles, or whatever else have you, roll that fatty up tight and cut it into little bite size segments. We enjoyed our culinary masterpieces with soju and zombie movies. Charlie's only ever seen those low-budget lethargic zombies so I introduced him to the most terrifying of all the undead flicks, the 2004 Dawn of the Dead remake.

One final anecdote worth mentioning is Fan Death. Korean's believe that if you fall asleep in a room with the door and windows closed while an electric fan is running it will kill you. I'm not joking. Even the most intelligent individuals put the utmost faith in this urban legend. I've asked all of my co-teachers if they believed this and they said absolutely. I've talked to Korean's with doctorates and they still advocate for Fan Death. When one of my classes was arriving the other day I said, "Student turn on fans please....okay now shut door please...okay now shut windows please." They started to laugh but would not for the life of them shut that window. I've also closed the door and the windows while a fan is running and as soon as someone comes into my classroom they will immediately open the window. It's so absurd. Explanations for why a fan would kill you are numerous, but include such gems as 1)it creates a vacuum, 2) it splits the oxygen molecules, 3) the electric motor uses all the oxygen creating fatal levels of carbon dioxide, and 4) it causes hypothermia. Due to Fan Death it is impossible to find an electric fan in Korea that does not have timer on it. If you confront a Korean about this subject and tell them no one has ever died from Fan Death outside their country they will reply that it is because Koreans "run hot." Truthfully, the reason that this myth has been propagated and so deeply entrenched is largely due to a lack of journalistic integrity, but if you want to know more click here.

Cool Thing About Korea #10: This $8 bottle of 50 Proof Soju.