There’s no Kimchi in Chinatown

It’s September 11, but I’m not thinking about burning towers, I’m thinking about Chuseok in Korea, how unpatriotic. Everyone will be going to the villages and making and eating sungpyeon. A year ago I was in a rental car driving towards Seoraksan, the northern mountain, with David and Jenny.

I didn’t know I would miss it so greatly; that my ghost would linger there; that it would not be mashed potatoes or hamburgers that I crave any longer, but kimchi. I searched the alley markets in Chinatown, but couldn’t find any. Only a small market in Japantown, sells in mason jars, that putrid, vibrant, stringy, delicious substance.

Mist in the mountain
for dinner we will eat rice
time moves so quickly

Being suspended in an organism

I woke up this morning and the skies were blue. For the first time in a long time. Spotted here and there with a white puff. I ate KFC for lunch. Sometimes nothing sounds so good as a chicken sandwich. Spent the afternoon reading down by the river. It was cool and there was a gentle breeze blowing. I just sat there reading for five hours.

Today and yesterday were like night and day. Yesterday all my plans caved. I began the day pissy and ended it pissy. I accomplished little and felt in a slump. Today I decided to make no plans, to just relax. And I did. All day long. I worried about nothing. And I feel great now.

I started thinking about my relationship with Korea. Its in a constant flux. Its as if I am a germ in the body of this nation and it can’t quite decide how to deal with me.

The whole nation feels like it is all the same organism. Truly. When I leave my apartment and walk down the street, I feel as if I have merely stepped from one room to the next in a gigantic living mansion. Even when I go downtown or out of town, there retains this pseudo familiarity. This sense of pervading safety. As if I am still at home. I wonder if that makes any sense. It is such a contrast from the US, where everyone is walled up in their castle and the streets are open battlegrounds. Perhaps this has also to do with the fact that I am always on foot here. I am always connected with the area around me, whereas in the US every place is seperated by fifteen or twenty minutes of isolated car travel.

Living in this organism as a foreign entity has, I do not doubt, effected the way my mind functions. It has lulled me into a vague numbness. I have difficulty caring about much of anything. Tonight I watched the movie The Wind that Shakes the Barley and it awoke within me a sorrow for humanity and reminded me of my burden of responsibility to live a worthy life. It shook off, at least momentarily, the mud covering my eyes. When I stepped outside, the air smelled different, the people looked different. My relationship with the organism had changed. I felt again, apart from it, seperate. I’m sure this sounds very odd. Perhaps this explains the intense homesickness Koreans often feel when they travel abroad. In spite of its chaotic urban sprawl, lack of design or beauty, foul pocket stenches, and dirty air, there is something comforting about living here, akin, perhaps, to being suspended in a vat of warm gelatin.

Starving for Tasty Tunes

So have I mentioned that the music in Korea sucks? The same awful ballads blare out of every speaker on every corner. At least I can't tell what they're saying. I think in this way, Korean ballads get an edge up on country music. But for goodness sake, could we have some variety? Downtown, if you go downtown, you'll here the same "Maariaaa! Ave Maariaaa!" the entire time. It's in English, at least the chorus is. And that's all they ever seem to play. Apparently it's the theme song from a movie about a homely girl who sucks at life who has plastic surgery and becomes a national sensation. Isn't that great? I gotta see that movie.

Oh cinema is a gem here too. And by gem I mean bucket of crap. Except for this one guy. Chan-Wook Park (films include Oldboy, Sympathy for Lady Vengeance, and Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance). Oh and his birthday is the day after mine. Thank you IMDB for that information. He likes to make movies about vengeance. I've seen Oldboy and Sympathy for Lady Vengeance, but not Mr. Vengeance. If you are at all cool, do yourself a favor and rent Oldboy (think Count of Monte Cristo-esque with Seoul. You'll enjoy it trust me). If you are not cool, then do yourself a favor and rent Oldboy (maybe you won't like it, but you'll be cooler for it. Trust me). Then after that, find Sympathy for Lady Vengeance. And watch it because A) if you ever find someone else who has seen Oldboy, you'll want to be able to talk about his other movies too (or lose all credibility) and B) there are many many worse ways to waste your life.



Aside: saying "many many" is a sign of Korean indoctrination.

Can someone tell me why computers have a limit to the number of times you can switch DVD regions? That seems really stupid to me. Or do they think that people with laptops don't travel? Or don't watch DVDs on there DVD players when they travel? Stupid.

Sleepless in Seattle and Two Day's Gone By

Oh boy! I found free internet! Sleepless in Seattle coffee shop just down the street from my apt. So here I am, nibbling on a piece of mocha moose cake and surfing the net. I've been super busy since classes started. As in getting up at 7 to prepare lessons getting off work at 8 going home and preparing lessons 9and watching an episode of Firefly). That sounds really bad, but for it's really not. Probably because A) I'm still new and not yet cynical, and B) I don't have any internet or TV to waste my free time. Soon I'll write in more detail about what has been going on. But here are some old entries I've been wanting to post:

01.03.07

today i made a boy cry. i gave him an X by his name. i felt very bad.

today i named a boy "bruce".

today hannah told me that the kids like me.

today i built a gundam.

soon i will tell you about my room.

soon i will tell you about my school.


12.29.06
19:54

I was standing there. Gripping the flimsy handle on that 70 pound behemoth of a suitcase. Two bags slung around my toothpick neck and a bulging backpack hanging from my shoulders. I was standing there above what was definitely not an escalator, what was definitely a three flight descent. There's my train, departing in 10 minutes. And there's me, looking around with what must have been a desperate expression. Like a dog who wrapped his legs in his own leash. I must have looked pitiful. People were passing by leaping down two steps at a time. A man noticed. Looked at my suitcase. Then at me. Then at my suitcase. And without a word he bent down and lifted one end. We began the descent. "Gamsa hamnida." I said with a slight bow. Another man, whose face I never even saw, reached in and lifted some of the burden. "Gamsa hamnida," I repeated, "Thank you very much, thank you." Neither men ever responded. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, they returned again into the rushing human river.



Sitting and typing now aboard the KTX bullet train (one of the fastest in the world). My school was kind enough to book me business class from Seoul to Dong Daegu. It must be fast. But it's too dark outside to tell. The only sound is a quiet whir. Like a strong wind blowing through a crack in the rafters two stories up.

There is a bird documentary on the TV screens.



To celebrate the weekend Katrina, David, and I have purchased a couple bottles of Soju (like sake, boy the stuff is cheap) and rented a few movies. We are, alas, too tired to do celebrating any real justice.

Some new pix on flickr.

3 All Star Teachers and Me

Orientation. Learning all about teaching. I confess, after sitting and watching three dynamic teachers get up and present lessons (they were so good, they got me excited about the lessons(I tied Chris with the most stars during the last lecture)), I can't help but fear that perhaps my kids won't like me. Being not-so-high-energy as I am. Maybe if I drink a lot of coffee...

But I'm not terribly afraid. I mean I won't lose any sleep over it. In fact I'm suddenly very heavy eyed. But I think we're going out on the town. The other teachers and I. One Canadian, one Kiwi, and another American. I don't want to be out too late.

Korean food round 2: Meat in soup. Delicious. Perhaps I enjoyed it too much. One of the orientation leaders commented afterward about how much I enjoyed it. Hey, it was good.

Day 0 in Korea: Arrive without Warning

I meant to give some warning. A pre-departure letter. An explanation. A description of those last thoughts. A list of the last foods, people, and places i'll see for a year. but as life an laziness would have it, i ran out of time. i also ran out of time to redesign this page. one day.

the wonderful thing about travel is that i could already write a novella on all the little things that have happened to me, about me, and its only been one day. i've only just arrived. it's only just begun. this is the introduction. no not even. this is the prologue.

the packing, the agonizing over what to bring and what to leave behind, the goodbyes, the rounds of hugs, the 70 pound suitcase, (1) the little chinese man on the flight, the korean girl from tcu, the unexpected joy of borrowing a stranger's cell phone (twice), the seven sneezes immediately after breathing the air, (2) arriving at the lotte hotel, (4) sam lee, (3) arriving at the samsung motel, $2 dinner.

(1) I sat beside a little chinese man. i didn't know he was chinese at the time, i assumed he was korean like everyone else on the flight besides me and a couple military boys. i was contemplating trying to gleen some useful phrases from him. it was after all a 15 hour flight, it might help to make a friend. i was about to start watching monty python on my ipod, when the little man reached out and handed me one of the orange gummies he was eating. i thanked him and ate it. smiling more out of appreciation than enjoyment. this act, i soon realized, was a contract, now it was my turn to pay him back. he pointed to the little seafoam green pouch they had handed out. and pointed to his plastic grocery bag containing his candies. speaking in a very very foreign tongue. i think he was asking if he could keep it, so i nodded. 'it's free' i said.



that's how our clumsy and amusing 15 hour friendship began. by the time we landed, we had written each other illegible notes (does anyone out there read chinese?), exchanged small gifts (jelly beans, an album leaf pin), and given one another brief language lessons (i retained nothing). most of the flight he stared out the window. the entire flight actually. now and again he would nudge and say something, excitedely pointing at the tv screen, and then out the window, i would smile and nod, having no idea what he was going on about.

have you ever seen those posters where the chinese wear the tan sweater and teh red shirt underneath? that's exactly what he was wearing.

(2) i have to catch the airport bus into seoul. i'm supposed to get off at the lotte hotel. i step out into a glittering, spacious lobby. a porter quickly seizes my luggage and tells me to check in. i nod, looking around for sam lee, my contact. i have no idea what he looks like. maybe that's him sitting there, young, hip, but he doesn't stir. maybe not. at the front desk: "no sam lee here." so i ask the man to call him. i have his number. behind me a phone rings and the hip young man stands up. aha, sam lee after all. "this isn't where you'll be staying," he whispers, "i told him we're staying here tomorrow, that's why he's being so nice, but that's not true."

(3) samsung motel is the kind of back alley place that teens rent out by the hour on promnight. ok, maybe not that bad. it is clean and quiet and heated and has internet. there is also a half used tube of toothpaste and a almost new bar of soap in the bathroom. but different country, different customs. really i have no complaints. i'll just have to get used to the dim neon tube lighting in the hall.

(4) sam is a cool guy. and friendly. i suppose it is his job to be in town at 9 pm to meet me as i get in from the airport, but i can't help but feel grateful. he gives me a brief rundown of the block, takes me to a little place to get bimbap (sp) or korean sushi. he's from denver. a year or two older than me. he'll be leading the training tomorrow.


i could write more, like how at first glance seoul didn't seem to be much different from western cities. same green highway signs. red yellow green lights. blase high rise apartments. but inside it's a bit more overwhelming. at night. bright lights everywhere, street vendors selling little bits of meat on wooden sticks. people everywhere. the earth's slow spinning on its tilted axis disorienting me. the lights blur as my mind tries to bridge the 9 hour time gap. it's 10:41 here, so it's almost 8 back home. i should probabably get some sleep.