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July 2009
JULY 30: ABYSSINIA, THOMAS-SUH I have been in a Korean home once in the nine months I have been here, and I can thank Thomas Finn for that. Thomas had such a good rapport with one of his adult classes that they went out every Wednesday -- sometimes to a park, sometimes to a singing room, sometimes to a restaurant for food he had never tried. On this occasion he invited me to join his students at a very nice, clean home that was roomier than it looked. We ate fruit and pizza, and tried not to gawk too much at how so many things fit into a three-bedroom apartment. Meanwhile, he and I (but especially him) helped the four women as they learned new phrases and took notes. And Thomas loved every minute of it. (On his last day teaching their class, they gave him so many gifts I thought he just finished the shopping spree from the Chuck Woolery-era "Wheel of Fortune" days.) Thomas (or "Thomas-suh," so named because the Koreans add a syllable for words that end in "s") enjoys learning new things. He trained for teaching in Mexico and accepted his first job in the Far East. He would try food first, ask questions later, and if it turns out he just ate the eyeball of a five-legged cow, so be it, because it tasted good, and who cares? He rolls with situations better than I ever could, which is why I enjoyed hanging out with him and will miss now that he has become another of my friends whose contract at Yale is finishee.
This is the third in a series of posts I do when a teacher leaves. This is the first one, however, for a teacher who may come back. This time, I have a feeling the very lively, sprawling, diverse city of Seoul beckons. Thomas, who is from the London area, loves Seoul. Every Friday, he would tell us, geez, maybe I shouldn't go to Seoul again, and by Saturday afternoon he would be on his way. If he does come back he will no doubt visit us again, but he will call Seoul home. That is my guess. Time will tell. Until then, here are my questions and his answers: 1. Why did you come to Korea? I came to Korea to get some money, to be honest, and gain more teaching experience. It wasn't my first choice -- I was going to South America or Mexico -- but I needed to prepare myself first. 2. What are your future plans? As of right now, i could be heading to Spain, Japan or Seoul. It depends on how easy it will be to find English teaching jobs. Things could change though and I could end up anywhere really. 3. Name something (or things) you're proud of doing during your time here that you could not have done anywhere else. I'm not sure proud is the right word but I have made some great Korean friends and been to a Korean traditional wedding and prayed with Buddhist monks at Haeinsa Temple, for example. I did so many Korean things with my adult students too that I would not have done here at home.
4. What were the most pleasant and least pleasant surprises about Korea? Pleasant = the food is very good and the people are very friendly once you get to know them. Some of the scenery too. Unpleasant = no rubbish bins/trash cans haha! Getting stared at by everyone because I'm the giant wayguk (foreigner). 5. What does Korea do so well that the rest of the world should emulate it? It is very clean, the transport is always on time, people will help you a lot, they work very hard. (EDITOR'S NOTE: It sounds like a contradiction, but it is true: There are no trash bins, and people just put their trash on the street, usually near trees. But they are picked up in the morning. So there are no trash bins and Korea is clean. It is one of several contradictions that we love about the place, including their fear of swine flu but their choice not to cover their mouths when they cough. -- Fitz) 6. You will miss ... everyone at Yale of course (teachers and students), and Seoul don't forget, for many many good reasons!! 7. You won't miss ... the miserable middle school students or the people hacking up their lungs and spitting the contents onto the street in front of me. 8. Complete this sentence: If I had to do it over again, I would __________. ... go and quit Yale to work in Seoul, as close as possible to Homo Hill, haha! 9. Did it feel like 14 months? No way. Six months in it dragged for a month but the rest flew by incredibly fast. 10. Anything else you want to say that the questions don't cover? I never thought i would say this six months ago but i will miss Korea, Seoul, Daegu, Yale and most of the things in between. I would quite happily come back here to work. Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 28: BUSAN VACATION: STUFF THAT DIDN'T FIT IN ANY OTHER POST
Reader mail My sister, Beth Zinn, has been very nice at leaving comments on this blog's Facebook page. Here's her latest message in response to my experience with the Doctor Fish at Hurshimchung Spa: "Totally jealous of the fish foot thing! I saw that on TV and would LOVE to do that and--you got to do it! So cool :)" Well, I decided to type "doctor fish new hampshire" into my Google search engine, which led to me to www.doctorfish.com. Unfortunately, the message at the bottom of the New Hampshire page read as follows: "Sorry, we currently don't have any fish pedicure in New Hampshire at the moment. However, we are planing [sic] to open a fish pedicure location in New Hampshire soon. So, please check back with us next time." I'm game to take bets on what they'll get first: Doctor Fish in New Hampshire or spell check for the Web site. I'll close with a message from the Doctor of Smug Mode himself, Derek Johnstone, who also couldn't help but weigh in after reading about my visit to the spa, during which I was surrounded by naked men on the fourth floor: "There's nothing like hanging out with the boys!" Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. The final tourist-type thingy I did on my Busan vacation was something I had my eye on since I eyeballed Busan's Wikitravel page -- and that's a visit to the place that claims to be Asia's largest spa, Hurshimchung. The spa looks like a rather ordinary five-story brick building next to the very ordinary-looking Hotel Nongshim. In the lobby, there is a very-not-ordinary fountain:
I went to the third floor and began to pay. They told me I wouldn't have to until I left. The pay system is pretty cool. They give you a key, which opens a locker for your shoes, plus another locker for your other belongings. You want food or drink? Go to the third floor and give your key to the cashier. The key adds to your bill. Ditto for the flesh-eating fish, which I will get to in a minute or two. I have no other photos of the place, and there is a good reason for this. Everyone's naked. I must admit, this takes time getting used to, but once you realize everyone's in the same boat, you just roll with it. At least that's how I've been. Now, I've heard stories from other Westerners who say that Koreans tend to sneak a peek, given that we're different. I never caught anyone in the act, but I cani't see everything at once either. Honestly, in due time, I think you just get used to it. The spa had 40 baths for men and women. I counted 14 on the men's floor, but I'm sure I missed some, because I figured doing a round and not stepping into any of the baths might have drawn a strange look or two. I stood under a "waterfall" bath to loosen up the neck. I sat in a "champagne" bath, which was red but doubtfully champagne. I walked past the philosophy bath and debated whether or not it existed. I sat in hot and cool baths, indoor and outdoor baths. I walked on rocks, for about two seconds. I sat in a "cave" bath, which is really just a bath behind another wall, but it looked pretty cool. Then I donned a "robe" -- in fact shorts and a shirt so ugly I wouldn't let Baldy sleep on it -- and headed downstairs for an iced coffee, 10 minutes on a massage chair, 10 more minutes for a machine-performed foot massage, a few minutes in an igloo at 10 degrees Celsius (50ish Fahrenheit) and an impromptu 20-minute session with the fast-becoming-world-famous Doctor Fish. There are no words to describe the sensation of about 50 fish, roughly the size of goldfish, sucking on your feet. It's a combination of your foot falling asleep and being tickled with feathers. I hope that comes close, but really, it's a feeling better experienced than talked about. There's really no harm in it, and it was surreal to look at what appeared to be brown feathered hats on each foot. These fish were swimming vertically to suck in between my toes. The fish eat dead skin, and I must admit, when this finished, my feet did feel smooth. I remain surprised that I stuck it out for all 20 minutes (cost: 3,000 won) when I was so sure after 30 seconds that I could take no more. I was going to put this in the category of "only in Korea," but this practice, which started in Turkey, has gone worldwide. And it's not limited to feet. Music update: It's no secret to many of you that I am an '80s music nut. If you aren't, then you are done reading this entry. But if you are, I suggest tuning into Big R Radio -- The Wave. The songs I heard while typing this entry:
Are you about as easy as a nuclear war? Please tell me why by sending a message here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 24: BUSAN VACATION: BUSAN AQUARIUM The round building located on Haeundae Beach, nestled next to the tourism center and behind the swimmers who enter the Soon enough, I got my 20,000 won worth. There are three floors, all located below street level. Inside were 35,000 animals covering 250 species. They live in 40 tanks, each of which has water pumped in from the sea at Haeundae Beach. One room had a tunnel in which fish continued to swim above the heads of anyone who walked through. They had exhibits for Jeju Island fish, Caribbean fish and fish from the Philippines. There were several exhibits for jellyfish, including this one: I think these are moon jellyfish, but don't hold me to that. This is a blog entry, not a newspaper. You can't hold me to accuracy standards anymore. To wit: Sue Bird asked me to marry her. See? I can write anything.Some stills from other tanks:
The penguins were among the most popular animals at the place. They have two feeding shows per day, and I happened to arrive two minutes before the 3:30 feeding. Before that happened, I was surprised at how fast they can scoot through the water: Then it was showtime. A woman entered through a side door, toward the rear, on the rocks. Her bucket in tow, she began to speak into her fastened microphone. She sat on a stool and casually tossed fish to a waiting group of incredibly polite penguins. Not once did she break cadence -- it was just a stream of words I had no hope of understanding, except for the occasional "pen-geen." Her she is in action, albeit for about 16 seconds: And as you can see, she drew a crowd:
I even got to enjoy a 3D ride, a hokey guilty pleasure called "Escape from Dino Island." Just like a roller coaster, except you pretend you're underwater, or falling through the earth, or getting swatted by a stegosaurus' tail. I'm going to guess I was the oldest person there, at least without a kid. The aquarium also offers people the chance to scuba dive in the main tank. At least I've been told that. But I opted not to fork over 80,000 won for the opportunity. Avoiding the dinosaurs was enough adventure for me. Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 24: READER MAIL (OR, "DEAR DUMBASS: GET YOUR GEOGRAPHY STRAIGHT. LOVE, JOE.") Two comments to share. The first comes from astute reader Joe Buscemi, who upon reading about my hotel "overlooking the Pacific Ocean" submitted this short and informative email: "Korea isn't bordered by the Pacific." Indeed, I got rather lazy with this one. The Pacific does not touch South Korea. The
As for the body of water's name, it is officially recognized by the United Nations Conference on the Standardization of Geographical Names as the Sea of Japan. Koreans are rather sensitive to this, given that they were under Japanese imperialist rule from 1910 to 1945, and that Japan also invaded the peninsula in the 16th century. They would rather call it the East Sea. Of course, if the name were changed, and I were Japanese, I would counter with, "Yeah, but it's to the west of us." Suffice it to say this dispute probably won't end anytime soon. Because I live here I will err on the side of not offending my hosts and continue to call it the My second comment comes from Andy Lurie, whom I met as part of the No Shame Theater company in Santa Monica. After viewing my photo album of my trip to Yonggungsa, he wrote: "I gotta tell you... you're making me jealous. But, don't stop. I'm enjoying living vicariously through your trip. It saves me from getting off the couch. (Great pics, man. You better actually BE there and not on YOUR couch posting someone else's Flickr pics.)" Thanks Andy. I was, indeed, there. And I can even name of the body of water correctly now. One of the great ironies of this trip, and this blog in particular, is that before I came out here I was not what you would call a "picture person." I would take weeklong trips home to see the family and not bring a camera. "I don't need photos; I was here, wasn't I?" I'd actually say that. And now, I'll bring my camera to school sometimes, just in case there's a photo opportunity. I'll even take seemingly innocuous photos and concoct silly captions specifically with this blog in mind, such as this one from the National Museum of Korea:
Thank for your input everyone. Please keep it coming. Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 23: BUSAN VACATION: TEMPLE BY THE SEA Temples are an important part of Korean history, and temples with that little extra something to brag about are sure-fire tourist hits. Ladies and gentlemen, Yonggungsa:
What makes this place special is its location. Most temples are located in the mountains and include hikes to get there. This one overlooks the This temple was first built in 1376. As to why it was built near the sea rather than the mountains, I am not sure. As much as I loved the sights, I did not indulge in the history the way I did when I visited Donghwasa Temple (claim to fame: the world's largest Buddha statue), but I did enjoy the views overlooking the ocean and the many sculptures and statues. I will say visiting temples seems to make me feel a little awkward. I'm not a religious guy but I appreciate the beautiful architecture and the care and pride that went into making every flower garden and every corner of the place serene and special. More than once I'll line up a photo, prepping to click and move on, only to wait for a visitor to finish praying and paying the proper respects, just to remind us Godless folk that not everyone is there just to say they've been there. It's definitely a unique feel to a tourist spot, compared to, say, Branson. I have posted a 49-photo album on Facebook; the link is at the bottom of this entry. Here are a few to get you started:
To see my 49-photo album on Facebook, click here. To learn more about the temple, click here. Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 23: BUSAN VACATION: A GRAND DON'T COME FOR FREE When I arrived at Haeundae Beach on Sunday evening after an afternoon of paintball and a dinner of pork and cow's intestine (tasty but very chewy, thanks for asking), I walked around and saw option after option of simple-yet-affordable places to plop my knapsack and call it a night. So naturally, I checked into the Grand Hotel overlooking the
The cost was 160,000 won per night, so I settled in for a two-night stay. I can't do this every weekend, but I had the money to spend, and despite being overpriced, I just figured it'd be worth it to indulge in the spa and watch a little satellite TV that featured channels from Britain, Russia, Germany, Japan, Australia and Korea. I figured the high cost would cover the little things that make it a luxury hotel, so imagine my surprise when I paid for shampoo and conditioner (the latter is called "rinse" in South Korea) and toothpaste (at least it was cheap at 1,000 won). I also bought Pringles and chocolate chip cookies, which in a perverse way leads to the best news of the trip. On Monday afternoon, after a workout in the health club, I weighed in at 90.85 kg -- or 199.87 pounds. It was the first time since the mid-1990s I had weighed less than 200 pounds. So I celebrated that night by eating another can of Pringles, which, combined with the Mexican food that night, put me back above 200 the next day. I already know my next goal will be to get to 195, so I can enjoy a little more wiggle room. I figured if I was going to spend money, I'd take advantage of whatever the hotel offered. So on Sunday, after check-in, I paid another 12,000 won to indulge myself in the spa. Again, you'd figure the high price would cover these amenities. But few things beat the pure joy of sitting in a hot tub, naked, watching a Korean baseball game. I just lost you, didn't I? If I didn't, let me tell you quickly about the health club. Koreans are big about keeping their floors clean, so they insist you leave your sneakers outside the health club. "But wait," you're saying, "without sneakers, what do you wear in the gym?" That was my questions too, until the worker asked for my size and brought out a pair white, yellow and blue sneakers, sized 290. I think that means millimeters. Regardless, they fit, and I did my pushups as I promised the Hapkido instructor I would. From there I enjoyed time in the spa, then moved on to the swimming pool, which would have supplied a stunning view of the sea if (a) the fog wasn't there and (b) if the windows were clear. This was definitely not good value for the money, but still enjoyable. Chalk it up under, "Glad I did it." Paintball bonus photo: I played paintball for the first time Sunday. Wasn't miserable, but I don't think I'm clarmoing to go back, either. We played most of the time in a forest. One game was duel-like -- we took 10 paces, turned and fired at each other. The paintball pellets sting, but they did not leave lasting damage. Here's a photo of Rusty, who apparently took one on the neck:
And finally, for everyone who caught the pop culture reference in the title to this entry: Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 22: BUSAN VACATION: TRAVELS WITH BALDY AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE This most recent vacation, one that took me to Busan's most famous beach and one of Asia's two largest spas, was as significant for my roommate as it was for me. For the first time in nearly nine months here, Baldy left the friendly confines of Daegu. I had been reticent to bring him anywhere, not because traveling with a 25-pound dog is impossible, but because it's a nuisance. Carrying the kennel with him in there is doable but awkward. I bought two train tickets for each trip, because, as one polite ticket saleswoman told me at Dongdaegu train station, "We don't have a dog ticket." But on the whole the travels went without incident. The key was to keep Baldy out of the kennel as much as possible. En route to the corner where I picked up the cab to the train station, this was easy. It's outside. Dogs are allowed outside. The driver was understanding as soon we were on our way.
Being at the train station should not have been difficult, but because I was erring on the side of not being the selfish and stupid foreigner, buying the tickets were a pain. Once I hit the front doors at the station I sent Baldy into the kennel. I hauled him to the ticket line, and his shifting weight made the short walk a nuisance. When I moved forward in line, I dragged the kennel. I bought the tickets easily enough, then carried him to a Dunkin Donuts stand, where I met a man named Toby who lives in South Korea now but had lived in Palos Verdes, California. Baldy was in his kneel, wondering when the hell he'd get to run around. I had filled his water bowl, which was silly because it spilled. I felt like a doof as the nice worker cleaned it up. At that point we had about 20 minutes until boarding time, so I dumped half of my coffee and carried him outside for a quick walk. At this point I had my epiphany. I'd just keep a tight leash and let him walk through the terminal until someone told me I couldn't. Nobody said such a thing, and from that point the trip was easy. Baldy enjoyed a quick run on the platform, and when it was boarding time, a passenger was nice enough to help me put the loaded kennel into his designated seat, where he remained quiet for the hour-plus ride to Changwon.
He spent the next four nights with my friend and former newspaper co-worker, Andy Rohrback. I was there Saturday and Tuesday. The other nights, just he and Andy. But Baldy had enough goodies from home to keep him happy: two hard bones, two rawhide bones, vitamins, food from a local pet store that matched what we have at home, his Red Sox towel, and pretzels from our favorite coffee shop that the owner always gives me when I go there without Baldy. The first night, en route to seeing Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, I kept telling Andy that Baldy would probably not do anything that would destroy his apartment -- you know, chew his PlayStation cords, his laptop cords, tear into his couch and the like. I was doing this to cover myself but it was having the opposite effect on Andy ("It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself."). But Baldy was a champ, aside from his late-night barking fits that happen when someone else on the floor of his apartment complex had the audacity to move in and out of their own apartments. Baldy was a hit when Andy's church group came by Sunday, and was the subject of much adoration when Andy brought him to a friend's house a day or two later.
The rest of our travels went smoothly, although I still am wondering why the first cabbie I met in Changwon thought it would be a good idea to put Baldy in the trunk. I should have complied -- but only after taking Baldy out of the kennel and moving him to the front seat. Kongelish update: Borysoo Bun sells bread in Changwon. Andy kept the bag specifically for this description on it: "Our linden tree the barley bread which will kick 100% where does not mix the wheat flour entirely only the barley which will kick put in and made. Is neat and only one hundred one tastes wants and to the minutes when there to make be oneself recommends." Yes, I know, many Koreans' English is better than my Korean. Heck, many Koreans' English is better than many Yankees fans' English. But still ... can't help but laugh. Harry Potter update: The movie I watched Saturday was my first Harry Potter experience. Never read a book. Never watched any of the previous movies. Andy noted, with sorrow, that for me to read the books now would be a waste, because most of the loose ends that built up in those novels were tied up with this movie. I, meanwhile, believed that I have saved myself from reading 3,341 pages thanks to a tidy two-hour movie experience -- the literary equivalent of checking into an NBA game with two minutes left. I am genius! Mexican food update: I had chicken mole for the first time in South Korea, thanks to an out-of-the-way place in Masan, a city one over from Changwon. The Holy Grill in Daegu comes close (Tex-Mex is on the menu), and the Fuzzy Navel in Busan does not count as a Mexican restaurant because it charges for chips and salsa. Chicken mole in South Korea -- who knew? Stay tuned for more blog entries from my Busan vacation. If you just can't wait, you can send questions or comments to me here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 22: "YOU LOOK LIKE MATT DAMON" That's what a waitress told me an hour ago. Last month, it was Tom Cruise. So who (or what) do I look like? And how much am I going to regret asking this? Only you have the answers, and you can send them here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 18: BAREFOOT AND TUMBLING (AND STUMBLING AND BUMBLING) Today I finished my 10th Hapkido class, and I figured I'd celebrate by showing you everything I did correctly after the first 15 minutes:
I guess now is a good time to tell you that Friday is gymnastics day. After a cardio session that produced a good sweat, it was on to a new kind of pushup. I think the particular name for this maneuver is, "A Good Joke To Play On Someone With No Upper Body Strength." You start with your legs spread as far as they can go behind you, your arms shoulder-width apart, and your butt up. Then push your hips back and press your chest to the ground. But don't let your chest touch the ground. After that, it looks like your head is ducking under a limbo bar but nothing is allowed to touch the ground, and your arms are making a circular motion, like the gears on the wheels of a train rolling through the plains. You finish with your head up, your arms straight, your pelvis pressing against the mat, your legs still spread, and, in my case, sweaty wet hands and feet slipping on the mat. And now, the rough part of my day. Allow me to indulge you in the rest of my failures. A chin-up. A somersault. OK, technically, I could do a somersault. Does it have to be straight? The key is to have enough balance so I pop back up on my feet. Couldn't do it. Another somersault, this time finishing in a split and moving directly into another one. Another somersault, this time finishing with straight legs and hopping back up. A handstand into a somersault. Still trying the whole stop-in-midair-long-enough-to-qualify-as-a-headstand thing. A cartwheel. A bunch of other things I have conveniently forgotten but would not want to talk about anyway. I can handle not being an expert after two weeks, but the rough truth is I could not even make it past Step 1. I have a hard time doing a somersault in a straight line. My neck cannot support me in a long-rolling somersault. My arms could not support my weight on my later cartwheel attempts. When it comes to kicks and punches, my form is improving and there is always something to build on. If I don't have my leg straight enough on a kick, I can revert to form, take the correct steps, breathe, and get it right the next time. With the tumbling, no such luck. I cannot do the other somersaults if I cannot do one straight one in which I pop back up on my feet. I cannot do a headstand into something else if I cannot do a headstand. And I cannot do a headstand until my chest and arms get stronger. You might understand by now why, at a few points during this day, I wanted to grab my instructor by the robe and beg him to let me kick something. Instead, I could only bow my head, agree to try again, and take 30 seconds to compose myself after the umpteenth attempt at Step 1 went nowhere, only to stand there, sweat dropping from my forehead, and stare at the mat, lining up the spots where my hands are supposed to hit and imagining the points where my legs are supposed be straight or kick up or do whatever the hell it is they're supposed to do, breathe, try again, uncoil at the wrong moment or place my hands in the wrong spot, and land on my ass, rinse and repeat, et cetera. The lesson here is, when you want to pound away at a man's psyche, just make him do something that 80 percent of the world can do, and make him do it over and over until he realizes, Christ, I suck. But of course I'll be back. Blog update: Minutes after I post this I will be packing for a five-day weekend. Tomorrow I am off to Changwon to visit former Gazetteer Andy Rohrback. Baldy will come with me and take his first trip since he sat (in his kennel) next to me on the high-speed train ride from Seoul to Daegu on my first day here. Then I will disappear for three days in Busan, where I plan to play my first game of paintball, indulge in some Mexican food, enjoy the beachee (Kongelish humor there -- but that's another post), and perhaps visit one of the two largest spas in Asia. While I am away there will be no posts. I will return with nuggets from the trip, plus an "Abyssinia" entry for Thomas Finn, a good friend who left Yale last week and is safely back in England, where his first meal was a proper fried English breakfast. Color me jealous. To read previous such entries for friends/co-workers who have left South Korea, here are links to Joe Buscemi's and Derek Johnstone's. Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 16: AND IN THIS CORNER, WEIGHING 201.5 POUNDS ...
Weight update: 201.5 pounds (in full Hapkido gear, I might add). That's 91.6 kg for you non-Americans who have the audacity to use a measurement system that makes sense. Fluctuation: Minus 1.7 pounds/0.8 kg in a week. The short-term goal is to get below 200/90.9 for the first time since the mid-1990s. I was about 216/98-plus when I got here in late October. UPDATE: So good friend and "Korea Blogging!" Facebook page member Andy Rohrback asked: " 'Full' Hapkido gear? Pads, shinguards, helmet, wrist braces and power amulets?" Well, um, no. Top, pants and white belt. Not exactly "full" gear, admittedly, but no more egregious an error than many sports announcers make these days. (And the roof has literally blown off the place! Really? How the fuck are they still playing then?) But I am willing to bet that the top, pants and belt combine for close to a pound. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking. Either way, I don't think I am below 200 pounds but I am creeping ever closer. Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 15: ACADEMIA ON OVERDRIVE South Koreans sure do place a priority on education. I knew this coming here, of course. Learning that students attend our English academy after they have already been through a full day of school reinforces that. One of my co-workers calls these students "7-11 kids" -- and it's not because their eyes are always open. They're up at 7 a.m., sometimes before, and studying almost every waking hour until 11 p.m., often later. Still, the tidbit of information I heard from a student earlier today nearly caused me to spit out my kimchi. The middle school student is in my special conversation class -- and by "class," I mean she is the only one among three registered students who shows up, and we play a board game that enables her to practice English. The student (English name "Sega") told me she attends four academies -- English three times a week, math twice a week, and computers and Korean once a week each. Yes, I said Korean academy. When I asked if Korean academy focused on grammar, reading, or history, she said: "All of them." Now, that's not the stunning news. Sega has a friend who attends 10 academies. Keep in mind that middle schools run about eight hours per day Monday through Friday, and they also hold class every other Saturday. And on top of that, Sega's friend attends 10 academies: English, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, math, science, computers, music, and two others Sega forgot. I kept waiting for Sega to tell me there was also a Dream Academy, but she didn't mention one. No matter. Here they are anyway ... Future plans update: Today I told my boss at Yale that I want to come back and teach for another year. He said I could. Nothing is final until I sign a contract, but as of this second, I am coming back to South Korea for another year of teaching when my contract runs out this fall, after I take a break. I should know more details at the end of this week or early next week, but I can safely tell (warn?) you that this blog hasn't even hit its halfway point. Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 15: JUST TWO PHOTOS: BALDY AND KOKA
Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 14: BAREFOOT AND KICKING, PART DUL After six days of Hapkido training, I am pleased (and relieved) to report that I am getting better. I am faster. I can do more pushups before I crumple to the mat. I am more flexible. My form has improved, especially on spinning kicks, where I began at "Total Abomination" and have progressed to "Reasonable For A Beginner." But I still must learn how to tie a belt. (Excuse me . . . ) Okay. I just practiced some more. Caress the belt like a seven-day-old baby. With the left hand, wrap the left end until it reaches the center of the back and let the loose end fall. Wrap the rest of the belt around clockwise, enabling the left end to hang on its own down the back. Once finished, adjust the belt so both hanging ends are in front. Tuck the right end under the belt. Make sure both ends are even. And from there ... I am not certain. I think I got it right, but I won't know for sure until I return to class tomorrow. But for a guy who did not learn how to tie a tie until he was well out of college, I think I did a bang-up job:
UPDATE, typed late night July 15: The next lesson, Teacher Che adjusted the knot on the front, so I didn't have it down pat quite yet. The following class, I adjusted the belt so it was tighter and did the whole shebang in front of him, and he nodded. So I figured it out in four classes, which, I imagine, is three more classes than most people need. END UPDATE Some more nuggets on my first week-plus of my first martial arts training: Something feels different. The best news out of today's lesson is that, as I type this 12 hours later, I am experiencing no muscle pain. Friday night, I could not look over my left shoulder without feeling the result of that day's failed somersaults. Today, after finishing another painful round of pushups, I could barely lift a glass of water to my mouth. My biceps were quaking. This leads me to ... I am the student. Che is the teacher. So when I am finishing a final round of pushups, having just barely completed the last round, with my biceps and chest trying to support a body that could lose 10 to 15 more pounds, and failing miserably, his role is to tell me to do what he told me to do, and he doesn't care if people in the Philippines hear me scream, which for all I know, they did (and wondered if I gave birth to a boy or a girl). During the final set I said something I tried to avoid at all costs -- "I can't." I knew he did not want to hear it. I knew it was a lame thing to say. But I had crumpled on the mat, my sweaty hands sliding on the mat and unable to hold me up, my forehead pounding against the mat, and I knew nothing else to say. That is when he said, "No 'I can't.' " Message received. He approached, grabbed my belt and supported me through three more excruciating pushups. It wasn't the ideal way to finish, but I finished. I have stayed up later than I wanted to, so I will talk more about this process in another post. Until then, here is a short version of last week's schedule: Monday: My introduction. If you haven't already, you can read about it here. Tuesday: More pushups. Situps. Jumping rope. Spinning kicks, and it took me half an hour just practicing the form, one step at a time, from the 150-degree pivot on the plant leg to the knee bend to straightening the leg to returning to my base position. Wednesday: More pushups. Situps. Punches. Thursday: More kicking. More pushups. Friday: Pushups, situps, gymnastics. You read that correctly. Riddle me this: How, when you are doing a handstand, do you negotiate getting enough forward momentum to kick your legs up straight, and then exert the control to keep them there? T-minus four lessons until I try to find that answer.
Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. And if you have not joined, I will ask in the most polite of terms, pretty please, just join my fucking group already. JULY 12: WATERFALLING FOR POHANG The alarm buzzed me awake Saturday at 7:10 a.m. I had two choices. Catch up on my sleep. Or ... Walk Baldy, snag my backpack, stumble to the corner, ride a cab 20 minutes to the Dongbu bus station, roll to Pohang via Gyeongju for 90 minutes, grab another bus for a 50-minute ride to the outskirts of north Pohang, and cram into the back seat of a taxi for another 20-minute ride as I wait for the caffeine and sugar from the coffee and two donuts to kick in. I chose the latter -- isn't it obvious? -- and it's a good thing I did, or else I would have missed scenes like this:
You are looking at pictures from Naeyeon Mountain (or Naeyeonsan, san meaning "mountain"). The hike was, admittedly, a last-minute decision. About 90 percent of Korea's foreign populace spent their Friday night preparing for a weekend here, but, having lived in Tallahassee for nearly four years, watching young drunk women in bikinis was an everyday occurence. So I was ready for a shut-it-down weekend -- until, at 1 a.m., when the Guvnor called to invite me to a six-hour hike in Pohang. The trip would provide an opportunity to meet people, provide exercise and view up to 12 waterfalls. (A Facebook aside: Yeah, there is much to loathe about the site, particularly the quizzes such as "What McDonald's Dollar Menu Item Are You?" and the sudden glut of people whose lives have been truly, deeply impacted by Michael Jackson. But this weekend proved how valuable the site can be as a networking tool. Fellow Gyeongju FC Marauder Matt "The Sheriff of" Sweetingham joined a hiking group that was started by Wonny, a woman in Busan. Steve "the Guvnor" Moore -- who also had no grand weekend plans -- trolled around the site Friday, saw that "Matt Sweetingham is attending..." and checked it out. Then Steve called me. This wonderful hike doesn't happen without Facebook. And now, I must find out what kind of Transformers vehicle I resemble. My guess is whichever one talks the most.) The trip to the mountain, as detailed above, was a pain in the ass. But it was worth it when we got there. I shall allow the photos to tell much of the story from here.
After about 2 1/2 hours on the mountain, we passed some resting Koreans. We had no idea how close we were to the top. Two hours, some Korean hikers told us. It was around 2:30, maybe a little earlier. Some of the Koreans told us we were about half an hour from seeing another waterfall. Others said there was no waterfall. The group's decision was to believe the people who said there was a waterfall, hike to it, then head back. Turns out both sides were right. There was supposed to be a waterfall but there was no water running down it -- that's what a returning group of hikers told us. About half of our group was far ahead, heading to what they thought would be a very cool waterfall. So we chased them down the best way possible: I yelled my head off and they heard me. Thus commenced the return trip. But before I talk about that, here is a video of a waterfall we viewed on the way up: On the way down, I had convinced myself that a dip in one of the ponds we saw on the way up would be a good idea. I was that hot. The large bottled water had stayed in my backpack most of the time because keeping pace was more important than keeping hydrated. When we reached a nice stopping point, complete with an area to sit and a small pond, I told myself that, yeah, a short swim would be a good idea. Nic, who was smart enough to bring a towel, was way ahead of me and in the pond faster than I could count to 10 in Korean. This is where the Guvnor was at his best. He loves pushing buttons, especially those of people he knows hate having their buttons pushed. I swear we'd make a great husband and wife. Anyway, he saw me with my bare feet in the cold water, my eyes staring at the deep part of the pond, and demanded that I go in. Too cold, I told him. He clucked like a chicken. Me: "You're not going in either." Guvnor: "Yeah, but you want to." He was right. I did want to.
Having changed into my backup shorts and shirt, we finished the trip.
When we finished, we waited another 45 minutes for a bus to take us downtown to eat. I took the opportunity to lay on a stage and rest. My calves hung over the edge which, unbeknownst to me, is a recipe for cutting off the circulation there. So when I dismounted, my legs felt like cooked spaghetti. I had to grab the nearest post before I fell over. Onlookers must thought I downed soju on the mountain, but I know the true story: the problem was a lack of sleep. And the trip was still worth it. To view the full 81-photo album I posted on Facebook, click here. You do not have to be a Facebook user to see it. Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 10: YOU KNOW I COULDN'T LAST The title for this entry fits threefold: 1. The GS25 convenience store on the corner down the street has set up a table, umbrella and chairs outside its door. Convenience stores are a popular place to gather here. You can buy cheap beer inside, sit and drink it outside, and not have to worry about puking on some establishment's nice floor. You also can be as loud as you want -- unless, of course, the convenience store happens to be in a residential area as opposed to a commercial one. Family Mart learned this lesson last summer, before I arrived. I've heard this story from enough people so I feel comfortable telling it. It's not that complicated. The store set up a table. The customers were too loud. Neighbors complained. The table is gone. So imagine my surprise Thursday when I saw GS25 take the plunge. There are apartments above it, to the left of it, catty corner from it, across the street from it, pretty much in almost all of the surrounding real estate. A co-worker and I were there for no more than 10 minutes, chatting with several foreign English teachers, when we saw (a) a woman inside, complaining to the clerk and pointing in our direction and (b) a window open across the street, on the third floor, followed by a Korean man delivering the universal "shush" symbol along with a few choice words, none of which appeared to be, "May I join you in a few minutes?" I can't imagine this experiment lasting longer than the glow puck or New Coke, so here's a photo for posterity's sake before I won't be able to take another one:
2. I'll be moving to another apartment within the neighborhood. I received my orders from Yale today, and it's nothing personal or job-related. For those of you who don't know, apartments for English teachers are free. The schools lease the apartments, and sometimes, depending on how many teachers they employ, things can get tricky. Our school's situation is no doubt complicated by the fact that one teacher lives with her boyfriend and another lives with his wife in apartments not leased by our school. Another apartment has two Yale teachers living together. So, essentially, Yale has too many apartments leased. My lease ends in August so I will be moving into my choice of three.
3. Another teacher is leaving. After 14 months, Thomas Finn is heading back to England. He's given me the go-ahead to send him some questions, with the plan of him answering them for all eight of my loyal readers to digest. Meanwhile, here's a shot of one of several "last so-and-so's" this week -- a dinner at Don Moong Tigi, the best galbi restaurant in Daegu:
Weight update: 92.4 kg/203.2 pounds. Fluctuation: Plus 0.2 of a pound in four days. In my defense, I was retaining water -- in my sweat-soaked T-shirt. Teacher Che saw my grumpy face and told me the sweaty shirt was probably a factor. "No clothes, you lose weight," he told me. You'll understand if I didn't take him up on the challenge then and there. Anyway, I've been to Hapkido four straight times and I continue to learn. I'll expound on it more at another time. I'll close with a live version of the song whose title matches this blog entry's. Take it away, Morrissey ... Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. I shall begin at the end, when my instructor cut short my first Hapkido training session after 35 minutes. Too much on the first day, he told me in broken but clear English, and I would need 17 trips to a hot tub to recover. Thirteen hours later, my sore triceps and lower back are grateful. My first day of training served as many things: an introduction to Korean culture, a new way to exercise, a reminder that I have as much muscle range as Venus de Milo. But I am glad I did it, and I shall return tomorrow, if for no other reason that my robe will be there. The dojang, or training area, is located three minutes from my apartment and across the street from my favorite coffee place. Located downstairs, it is the size of a typical aerobics classroom in a suburban fitness center and just as well-lit. The floor is designed to look like wood but is a mat soft enough to sleep on. Multi-colored jump ropes hang on a door handle. A ping pong table (now that's something I'm in shape to play) is folded up in the corner and paddles rest on a shelf. There's an air conditioning unit the size of a refrigerator, a water dispenser, men's and women's change areas with the walls painted pink and blue. The clock on the far wall is about seven minutes fast. Each class begins by placing my hand on my heart and respecting a framed South Korean flag. Then my instructor, Teacher Che, and I sit across from each other, on our knees, and formally bow to each other. Other etiquette tips are located on this link, and suffice it to say I did almost none of them in this first lesson. I swear it's out of ignorance, although I suppose if I found this link after the first session I easily could have found it 24 hours earlier. So yes, I feel bad and I will do better to respect Korea's deep traditions. The instructor was very patient but firm. I told him, best I could, that I was a beginner and not in the best shape. We stretched. He counted to eight in Korean. At one point I sat cross-legged, and he told me to bend forward as far as I could. I informed I was. After the flexibility exercises (and not to beat a dead horse, but "flexibility" is a relative term), he set up four pillars and I ran 10 laps in 1:57, all of them done with the instructor following me, indirectly telling me to pick up the pace from my initial up-tempo jog and give it a good run. I thought I was back at Scripture Field running laps, trying to earn my way into the starting lineup for my soccer team. But no, I was in South Korea, wondering when the hell I'd finally get to kick something. The answer was soon, after I did pushups. Do 10, he told me. Hey, I can do that. Thank you. Look at yourself in the mirror, he told me. No looking at the floor. Okay then. Do nine more pushups, he said. Got it. Go down further, he told me. I acknowledged him. In this setting, my instructor is God. I am the doting student. Eight more pushups. Done. Now, seven more pushups. Um, this is starting to hurt. Six more pushups. My triceps are fried. Five more pushups. He told me I could cheat by crossing my legs and resting my knees on the floor. "Easier," he told me, and I felt like a member of the Housewives Special at the local gym. Four more. Ow. Three more. Exhale. Wow. Two more. Yeah, I have two more in me. One. Finishee! Fifty-five pushups in a span of a few minutes. That's something I could never do without someone pushing me, which is exactly why I am doing this. After a quick break, it was time to learn some kicks. He taught me the base pose: right leg behind the left, legs shoulder width apart, toes pointed forward, right forearm protecting me upper torso with the fist at chin level, left arm protecting my face. Kick. Return to the base. Keep the leg straight. Nine more. Then switch. This was followed by outside-in kicks, which he told me resembled soccer kicks, although I was unable to locate a crossbar to boot the ball over. Then, worst of all, was the inside-out kicks, which were supposed to resemble circles but thanks to the two-by-fours the doctor must have implanted in my hips sometimes resembled triangles. Finally, I did the kicks again, alternating the left and right foot, as the instructor held pads. After a while, I got into it. I was following through on the straight kicks and twisting the hips on my follow-through for the outside-in. I was cruising so much I even punctuated the kicks with a grunt, after which I was informed I shouldn't do that. It is about the form, he said. Finally, about 35 minutes into an hour session, it was done. I wanted more. And today, I get it, this time with a training partner who opted to miss Monday's class. Weight update: 92.3 kg/203 pounds. Fluctuation: Plus 1.15 kg/2.5 pounds from three days earlier. I imagine the two cheeseburgers, two orders of fries and several beers over July 4 weekend was not a good idea, although they all seemed so right at the time. Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. Yesterday was my first July 4 celebrated outside the U.S., but I celebrated the way any red-blooded American would. I dressed up as Rush Limbaugh. Actually, I watched football (Canadian) on TV, watched baseball (Japanese) on TV, played football (the proper kind) with a bunch of Brits and drank beer (Korean). But to my credit, I do remember what I did on on the day, which I believe some other people might not be able to claim ...
I began the day at The Holy Grill, which according to one South Korean magazine is one of the 10 best foreigner-run bars in the country. I don't know how you verify such a thing, but it does rule. I had a cheeseburger and apple pie a la mode. Now is a good time to remind you I am nearly below 200 pounds for the first time in about 15 years. While there I watched an entertaining but sloppy CFL encounter in which, interspersed among the 15 turnovers, Saskatchewan outscored B.C. 28-24. The bar had a special -- one free Budweiser if I ordered the cheeseburger. I turned it down. I did, after all, have my own football match to worry about. I introduced some of you to my soccer team, Gyeongju FC, in April. We played our season finale Saturday night. We came in having won two of our previous four matches, with our two losses in that span to the teams at the top of the table. So we had high hopes for a smashing ending against the team we played our first-ever friendly match against, FC Daegu. I'll give Daegu's fans their props for setting off fireworks before the match ... and at halftime ... and afterward. I had forgotten what day it was. Things were OK for the first 20 minutes or so. Then they broke through for a goal. A couple of minutes later I saved a free kick headed for the low corner but spilled the rebound, which was deposited over my prone body for a 2-0 lead. It was an incredibly important goal; I know this because, for the first time in my life, I saw a goalscorer skip up the sidelines and blow kisses to the fans during an adult recreation soccer match. FC Daegu added the first two goals of the second half as well. The final was 5-1, and I'll give credit to FC Daegu -- not only did they win, but they apparently weren't offside the entire match. And they were incredibly brave, because apparently we fouled them every time they touched the ball but they didn't foul us once. A stunning achievement and I was honored to watch it. What happened next really pissed me off. I trained with FC Daegu in January and February. I didn't miss a session. I know many of those guys. And when the match ended, and I trekked across the field, through the rain, mentally going over the goals I let in but prepared to look them in the eye and congratulate them, I fully expected them (especially the ones who know me by name) to seek out the losing keeper, as is customary, and say "good game," even if they didn't mean it, because that's what you do to a guy who has the responsibility of being the last line of defense, and whose job is three times more difficult in the rain. Four FC Daegu players had the class to shake my hand. Four. Fucking hell. Thank you Phil (the first one approach me, having made a point to cross midfield to see me), Paddy, Alex and Scott. The rest of them? Congratulations for going from a winless season in fall 2008 to six wins and a draw in 14 matches this spring, because, you know, those results are everything and how you conduct yourselves means nothing, apparently. But hell, I won $52,000 on national television and didn't act they way their team did after goals that put them up 4-0 and 5-1 -- behavior that would have been dismissed as getting caught up in the moment if they had the decency to shake a losing keeper's hand. I'll let Bob Odenkirk sum up how I feel: The rest of the night went better. Eight of us had dinner at a pork galbi restaurant. The group, which numbered 20 or more players and supporters, gathered at Commune's and took in a band that pleasantly surprised me with some Zeppelin, including "The Ocean," "No Quarter" and "Dancing Days."
I'll talk about the rest of the night in a minute. More about the Marauders. Our season started with a 9-0 loss (Are shin guards actually mandatory?), a 4-2 loss (when we had 10 players show up) and an 11-2 drubbing. A week after the 11-2 debacle, we had five available players for the next match and were forced to reschedule. We battled through some tough losses -- one where we were tied 4-4 with 10 minutes left, another where the opposing keeper did a stunning impersonation of an octopus. Our player pool grew. We won two of our last five matches. We had support at home games. We had support on the road. We were, to a decent sector of foreign teachers in Gyeongju, a Thing To Do. I don't know what will happen next, but to any of the Marauders reading this, thanks. And to my friends in the States wondering if I've met some unforgettable people, the answer is yes. So, as promised, the rest of the night. We drank. We danced (yes, even me, for five minutes). We bought liquor in a bag, which I never had until Saturday night. Mine was called "green stuff." Here's a place that sells it: Viniroo, a word that, someone told me, means "plastic bag" in Japanese.
I returned home around 4:30 a.m. -- about 3:30 p.m. July 4 in the States. My celebration ended as many of yours began. Gimmick update: I begin my Hapkido classes tomorrow. I ran into someone who has taken the classes, and she gave me this preview: There will be one other student along with the teacher. We'll punch, kick and spar. We will hold poses until our muscle fibers snap. But it will be fun! I plan on attending the classes five days a week -- it does cost $90 per month, after all -- and I will do my best to weigh myself after every session and report the results on the blog. I would not be surprised if I returned to the States in the best shape of my adult life. I also would not be surprised if I arrived at Yale tomorrow on a stretcher. Questions, comments and demands can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. JULY 3: NATIONAL TREASURE NO. 86 AND OTHER UPDATES, SIGNIFICANT OR OTHERWISE, FROM THE PAST WEEK Forgive the long title, but I can assure you it doesn't come close to surpassing this one.
This is a 10-story pagoda. Its official name is Gyeongcheonsasipcheungseoktap, which translates to "10-storied marble pagoda of Gyeongcheonsa Temple." It also has been called the 13-story pagoda, because its base has three levels.
Built in 1348, it actually moved to Japan when then country invaded Korea and returned to Gyeongcheonsa Temple in 1960. It is now at the National Museum of Korea, which I visited a couple of weekends ago. On its base, the sculptors carved out lions, Arhats and images from the Chinese novel Journey to the West. This is where things get interesting. According to Wikipedia, which is never wrong, the earliest version of Journey to the West was published in 1590, about 250 years after this pagoda was built. So I'm missing something here. The novel is a fictional account of a pilgrimage to India during the Tang dynasty (618-907 AD), so perhaps the carvings were never an intent to honor the book, just the journey which was later the subject of the book. Regardless, it's a significant piece of literature, and I for one cannot wait to see Michael Bay's movie adaptation, starring Shia Laboeuf as the monk Xuanzang, Megan Fox as his love interest, and Thomas Haden Church as the giant robot Zorcon. The official explanations of the pagoda, which explain its National Treasure status, can be read here. I'll post more from the museum visit another time. Here's a shot of the entrance:
Other updates, significant or otherwise, from the past week ** I will begin taking Hapkido classes Monday. Here's a chance to improve my flexibility, exercise four to five times a week, and learn the martial arts -- or at least one of them. Plus I get a cool black robe. In signing up for the class, the teacher took my height and weight, and I am proud to say I have inched closer to the magical 199-pound mark. I can't remember the last time I weighed less than 200 pounds, but today I weighed in at 91.15 kilograms, which translates to ... 185 pounds! No, I'm kidding ... it's 200.53 pounds. Not bad, considering I ate a whole pizza last night. I have lost close to 16 pounds since I came over eight months ago. Speaking of which ... ** Holy crap, I've been here for more than eight months. I feel like time has flown, and yet it feels like I've been here a long time. That's some serious doublethink -- The Party will be pleased. What I mean is, I've enjoyed myself and there are still many things I must do in Korea. Yet I feel like I have my routines and I no longer feel like a total stranger, even when I'm surrounded by people who don't speak my language. Confused? Sorry. I'll move on. ** We don't have garbage disposals here. Instead, we place our unused food in containers, and when they're full, we leave them outside our apartments to be picked up by the locals and then fed to pigs. Cost: about 10 cents per pickup. Here are the containers:
Now, imagine those containers with sesame seeds all over them. Only they're not sesame seeds. They're leeches. This is what happens when you're a single guy who eats out most of the time -- you forget that food lying around attracts some unwelcome guests. I spent 30 to 45 minutes last night scrubbing, washing, re-scrubbing and rinsing the containers to get the horrible food smell out -- not only from the containers but the drawer in which I kept them. The lesson here is ... Eat out all the time. Thank you. Questions, comments, demands or suggestions can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. |
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