Train and Taxi Trauma

They say people feel lonelier in the winter. I’m beginning to see the truth of this adage not so much for myself (though friends and family are #1 on the list of things I miss), but more in those around me. Sunday night, I was on my way home from dinner with a few friends. A Korean guy, probably late twenties, walked past me. Turned around, not once, but THREE times, to look at me. I was the only one around, so I doubt he was checking out the light post. In this culture, it is not considered rude to stare. If you catch someone staring, they don’t immediately look away like they do at home. They just keep right on looking at you without so much as flinching. (Which explains why last weekend, an older man looked at me for 43 minutes of a 45 minute train ride. I finally looked straight at him and raised my eyebrows in the “Yes?” way, and he looked out the window. Bizarre. But seriously people, I’m not that interesting. You can see a whitey any old time, we aren’t that special). So when we got to the corner of the street, he looked at me twice more, but I continued looking away. Finally he said hello to me in Korean. I said hello back. He told me I had beautiful hair (ha! I’ve been asked several times if this is my real color. I hardly think I’d go light brown if I were dying it, but anyway) and I said thanks. Then the light turned green and we started to walk across the intersection and he kept talking to me, though I was practicing my blank stare to his Korean. I was walking into the Carrefour and he asked if I was going to the market. I said yes, and he walked right on in with me. I was confused. Did we just agree to go together? I don’t think so, that part was in English. So I just started to slow down my walk. He turned around and looked at me like, “Umm what are you doing?” But I just started browsing through the items that were next to me, and I guess he got the point. Strange. Well then yesterday I was on the train back from class and a younger guy sat next to me. Some old man was giving his spill in the middle of the subway car on the pens he was selling, and I sorta smirked, but the guy next to me bought a pack. Then he gave me one. It’s a horrid yellow, but I said thanks, which apparently opened the door for him to ask me what I was doing. Pal, I’m reading Korean, can’t you tell? He had terrible smoker’s breath and it sorta nauseated me every time he spoke. But he practiced a little English (if you’ve never been to this site, check out www.engrish.com) and I practiced a little Korean. He asked me where my subway stop was, so I told him. His was the next one. He told me there’s a good tea shop near my subway, so I asked where and he didn’t know how to tell me. Anyway, I pretended to fall asleep on the train so that he’d stop talking to me and making me feel queasy with the stale cigarette on his breath. Finally, the train reached my stop, I said goodbye and have a good day. I walked down to the door at the other end of the car so that I didn’t have to stand next to this guy and it be awkward while I waited for the doors to open. I got out and walked up the stairs to exit. I swiped my card at the turnstile and walked through when, low and behold, there’s my pen donator! He said, “Hi.” I said, “What are you doing?” He pointed to the sign and said he was going to the pedestrian underpass. I asked what for, because really, who goes to a different subway stop to walk underneath the street? He asked if I had time. I knew he was talking about going to the tea shop, but I pointed to my watch to act like I didn’t understand, and I showed him the time. He said “No, no. You are busy?” I said, “Yes, I work. I am late.” Completely bogus. He asked if I had a hand phone (that’s their term for cell phone). I said, “I have email” being careful not to say I didn’t have a hand phone, because just my luck it would ring right as I fibbed. He handed me one of his new pens and asked for me to write my address, so I can’t help but think—this guy is strange! I mean, he reeks of tobacco (the cigarette maker here is called KT&G for Korea Tobacco and Ginseng. Gotta try to balance out the junk with something good, kill your lungs, help your brain, right?), he doesn’t speak much English, and he followed a complete stranger off the train! Even if I were the least bit interested, where could this possibly go? So I gave him the junk address that I also gave to the Christian Crusader guys. He promised to write. I promised to bring a mask.

Today I was on the train, and I’ve learned that it’s clearly the place for drama if there’s going to be any. Some Korean man, somewhere in his forties, walked up to me and asked if I spoke English. I gave an affirmative “Yes” and he said he worked in Moscow and wanted to know if I had any Russian friends here because he wants to practice that language. Red flag! Translation: If you aren’t a prostitute, do you have any friends who are, so that I may pick them up? He gave me his email and phone number so that I could pass it along to my Russian pals and they could proceed to “talk.” I could be completely jumping the gun, but it’s more amusing to think of it this way, and since I’m still a bit insulted at being asked if I’m from the former USSR, I’m going with it.

Going back to the topic of masks from earlier, I’ve seen several people here with these surgeon-looking masks that hook around their ears and cover their mouth and nose. I figured it was people concerned about breathing in all the polluted air, but I found out that it’s common courtesy of those who have a cold to help minimize the spreading of their germs. What a nice idea! I told this to one of my friends, who said, “Why do that? I mean, I don’t care if I get other people sick.” I said, “Yeah but think about it—if they do it and it prevents YOU from getting sick, you’re thankful.” Then he agreed that it’s a good idea.

I joined one of my American classmates from Korean class this past Saturday night in seeing the fireworks on a small island inside the city. We got there with only a few minutes left of the show, but it was really neat nonetheless. They were over the Han River, which many of you know I’m obsessed with, and near the Pier 63 building, a well-known sky-scraper. We sat near some people from Montana and Indiana. Really nice people, also here teaching English, of course. The girl from Montana has been here for a year and a half and goes home for the holidays. Yeah right! I miss my friends and family, but if I were going to spend a grand for the holidays, it would either be on gifts to ship back or on going somewhere I can’t go for such a low price from the US. Not returning somewhere I’ve spent two decades.

Anyway! Well, we know this is a large city. The world’s fifth largest, to be exact, with around 12 million people. You’d think it would be pretty slim odds to run into someone you know. I am here to tell you, as a now four-time veteran of this happenstance, that this is not the case. My Russian friend Ilya was celebrating his birthday this weekend, and invited me to a small bar in a small area with him and several friends. (If you want pictures, let me know! They are uploaded on Kodak and ready to share!) I finished watching the fireworks show and had his friend Alex meet me at the train station to show me the way. The place was so reclusive that I surely would’ve been lost had it not been for Alex’s help. As I walked in to the second floor of this place, who do I walk in and see but Justin, Brian who I went through training with (refer to the Namsan Mountain pictures) and Andy, who I walk home from work with each night, sitting at the same table! They’d been at a bar prior and ran into these European guys, who seemed to be having a good time and invited them to join. The party was then moved to bar numero dos, where I come into the picture. Brian was entirely too drunk to understand the coincidence, so they poured the beer, ordered food, and all passed a good time. We said cheers to the Korean guys at the table next to us who were celebrating a birthday. Koreans like to pretend they are going to fight, but many of them are huge wusses and would never. So they stand up and have their friends hold them back while they holler about being bigger and better than the other guy. It’s pretty comical, and nothing ever happens. This happened at the table next to us, and it was entertainment for a minute, then we blew them off as just another false threat. So our two tables full of people went to a dance club afterwards, girls got in free, and there were only two other people in the entire place who weren’t working there. Birthday boy disappeared somewhere along the way to the club, but the rest of us went in and cut a rug. They played all American music, maybe one exception. The Russian girls were dancing like madwomen—shaking their heads and tails and living it up. The guys here have no shame in getting out on the dance floor, so it wasn’t like an American club where it looks like an eighth grade dance up until the last hour when the opposite sex is no longer sober enough to care. We had a blast! Andy and I split a cab home, but the driver took us to the wrong part of town, though we warned him more than once along the way that we thought he was going in the wrong direction. We heard him on the radio after we arrived at the wrong destination—he told his dispatcher that he was going to “the other one” now. Andy, who’d had a few too many drinks mixing in his head, was pretty ticked off and took to arguing with the man. The driver said he’d hurry and bring us to the right domicile. It was nearly 4am and he’d certainly wasted our time, but now he was trying to waste our money. The bill when he arrived in Gangseo, rather than Mok Dong, was $25. We split $15 and gave it to him. He said $20. Andy told the driver that may not be able to speak Korean very well, but he can understand it, and the man knew where to go and that he intentionally took us elsewhere. Then he told the man he was a bad cab driver. Ha! Don’t insult a cab driver about his professional ability! He disagreed and kept saying he wasn’t a bad driver, and we just got out and walked through the 50-degree weather to our building. What a night!

Some people have expressed concern about my work situation because of all the horror stories of people not getting paid, not getting reimbursed, and in some cases even abused by their Korean employers. Mr Lee is a really cool boss for the US, but he’s an especially cool boss for Korea. He and the rest of the staff totally take care of us. One of our first days here, Andy and I came in after shopping for staple items for our new homes, and mentioned how some things are really cheap, but a plastic plate was $5. The next day, Mr Lee brought dishes for us. The first two weeks, he bought our lunch and several dinners. He has bought meals since then and for Thanksgiving gave us all two really nice bottles of red wine (my fave!!) Amy or Debbie bring in “vitamin drinks” and tell us to drink up, “eez good for healz.” They could be poisoning me for all I know, but knock on wood, I have yet to get sick. Amy comes in my class every day and asks me what I want for lunch. They make sure we are eating well, because a hungry teacher is a tired teacher, and a tired teacher is no good. Alex always delivers snacks to the classroom and with his very, very broken English, says we’re good teachers. From what I’ve heard from people at other schools, we are treated like royalty. I heard of one guy whose boss threw a coffee mug at him. Um, OUCH! The Canadian who suggested that I’m mistaken for a Russian prostitute said his boss owed him several thousand dollars—his last month’s pay as well as airfare. I don’t anticipate that happening with my school given the way we’ve been cared for thus far.

Copyright 2005 Olivia R. Reed

Venice, AFN, & Christians on Crusade

Seoul has a newly uncovered Venetian part of the city! Cheonggyecheon is a river that was covered during the Korean war by a road in order to make way for military equipment and whatnot to be brought in. The roadway was recently broken apart and the water beneath unveiled for a new, hip, touristy section of the city. It makes the businesses there more attractive and profitable, while they are sure to get rid of bums who are also attracted to the area. Have I mentioned that this country does not have good social programs for their poor? You’ll see them sleeping in the subway station, playing music as they walk through the train with a stick to tell them where they are going. It’s very sad, and you can’t take the “go to a home” attitude, because it isn’t quite that easy here.

I must give props to my students who are up with current affairs. They know their capitals and they even knew the American president! Maybe I shouldn’t be this impressed, but I hardly think that 90% of any classroom of elementary students in the states could name the president of another country. One of my students tonight had to make a sentence about someone he’d like to meet and why. He said his father, because he’s in Uzbekistan for work. I asked the rest of the class if they knew where Uzbek is, and everyone did! Remarkable!

My first “big” purchase after my first paycheck was a radio. I thought that I would be able to keep up with American music and in the event of something largely newsworthy when I don’t have a TV, this is my medium. I have found the American Forces Network (AFN) station, whose call name is the Eagle. It's not the official station of LSU sports, and the music isn’t all that great or always new (and there’s no country, which some would consider a benefit), but it’s in English and there are several different news reports, including CNN, and a weather report while I get ready in the mornings. Sufficiently exciting for my foreign-language-saturated environment. The commercials have very little variety, though. Some are funny: “Just your friendly local terrorist here thanking you for not shredding your mail. Now I know where...” and “Please turn in your library books on time. It saves paperwork and time...” Not that I want to hear a lot of advertisements, but I find myself getting weary of the same three incessantly replayed. Many of them apply to military and not to me! Not that I respond to radio ads anyway, but there’s one thing they talked about that I thought might be worth a trip over to the base if I could attend. Donald Rumsfeld will be in town on Friday. I’m not much into the life of Secretary of Defense, but I think it’s kinda cool that he’ll be in these parts. Yeah USA!

One other bit that I feel represents the US is all the Christian missionaries. They hand out tissues, flyers, play music in the subway stations, etc. On Saturdays, these guys are in full swing, complete with yellow sashes from shoulder to waist, Miss America style, bearing a red cross and some words I haven’t bothered to read. I went to meet Amy a few weeks ago at the War Memorial, and I was nearly knocked down by a man and a woman. I kid you not, the woman RAN after me! They had me fill out some questionnaire (full of leading and loaded questions, as I’m all too familiar with from Marketing Research/Statistics classes) even though I tried to tell tem to save their resources for someone who isn’t already Christian. I gave them my junk e-mail address after they insisted I not leave it blank. I checked it just the other day, and sure enough, they were recruiting me for one of their services, “Three hours time consuming.” I responded and said I’d like to attend an Episcopalian service, but after finding a list of churches here without my own on it, didn’t know where else to look to find my own and asked for their help. The guy writes back and gives me their schedule again with a time change. I tried again, knowing it was completely in vain. Since then, no response. Oh well, I don’t find out about my own church, but I get no more emails from them, either!

Copyright 2005 Olivia R. Reed

Package Envy and some Shopping

I know I already posted a grocery list to compare the prices of Seoul to those in the UsofA, but I have to add this to the list: my haircut! I went to the salon on the first floor of my apartment today and had my handy dandy Korean to English dictionary. There’s a special section for the barber or beauty salon. I tried to talk to them without using it, but when I got to the word “layer” I was at a loss. Sun Jung was the helper girl who washed my hair and put the TV on an English channel. She turned to me and said, “Sex and City” and I laughed and said thanks. Then she changed it to Something About Mary, which was the less preferable option between the two shows, but I didn’t really care. She wanted to check out my translated book, so while I was getting a cut she stood next to me and asked me questions. I really enjoyed it because she’d read it, then ask me something new, then translate for the woman doing the cutting and they’d laugh or talk. I felt like I was their babydoll in a game of house or something. When all was said and done, my bill was 8,000 won. The equivalent? 8 bucks. EIGHT DOLLARS for a shampoo, cut and style. I don’t think I’ve paid less than four times that amount! What a steal!

Then I went to drop off my dry cleaning. It’ll take 3 days to be ready, but when you pay about $2.50 per piece, who cares?

I received my first package from Louisiana Friday night. Andy and I had just returned from work and I checked my mail. I figured the note on my box told me I had a package, so I brought it to the security guy. I had to sign all kinds of stuff to have my box released, which is good because not just any old Joe can snag it. Andy said he had package envy. Anyway, I opened it up to find two books from Margo! One of the girls in my English class, Bryn, and I were discussing Mountains Beyond Mountains, a phenomenal book we both just finished. She said now she’s reading Blink, and I hadn’t heard of it. It sounded cool, but she said I should read The Tipping Point first. I had no luck in finding these books when I went to the foreign bookstore, and I hadn’t yet checked on Amazon’s international shipping costs. I was so excited when Margo somehow knew that both of these books are on my list to read! Bryn half-joked about the refreshing experience that reading here is—it’s something I’ve always taken for granted and never really thought about, but there’s some truth to her comparison of swimming in words after you’ve had a full day of listening to Korean. And so! I’ll finish Confederacy of Dunces (I’m not enjoying it so far—waiting to get to the point—and I hope there is one) first and then move on to these goodies.

I went shopping this weekend in several different places. The first was the Galleria, an upscale mall with nothing but designer labels. I’d been told to check out Mango there, and I recognize the British store name from my summer in France. I don’t know who pays full price for clothes in this country, but I can’t rationalize shelling out 200 bones for a pair of pants when the lady at the end of my street has some cute green ones for $3. I did find a pair of jeans I thought I might like, but in the attempt to try them on, I realized that they were made for someone with no rear end. A Korean. I don’t even have a big behind, but to these people I probably have a ghetto booty. Man do I know some people with backsides that would blow an Asian away! So after that failed attempt, I went to the “underground” market, where you recognize many brands from home, but at a fraction of the cost. I found a pair of jeans and a turtleneck for reasonable prices. I went to Star Market in Itaewon and bought a great jacket! It’s warm and should last me until my big thick coat arrives, but I’m still hunting for a wool coat in the mean time. And can I just say that all these purchases were made with cash. No, I’m not claiming to be a baller, it’s just that plastic is so uncommon here that it’s frustrating. I’m going to see if my bank has debit cards that can double as a MC or Visa, because having to withdraw cash three times in one day just gets annoying, especially when their biggest bill is a 10,000won, which is about $10.

I went to the grocery store last night to get all the goods for this week. I’m on a no rice, no noodle, no fried food diet in an effort to remove the couple of pounds I gained from a few weeks with rice at at least one meal a day. I braved the fish section –you can imagine the smell with everything being so fresh that the heads are still on most—and lucked into some fresh salmon. YUM! I went home and decided to cook it for supper but was a little bummed when I didn’t have all the seasonings my dad uses for his world famous grilled salmon. It came with wasabi, and I’d just bought some French Dijon dressing, so I mixed the two and cooked the fish in that. DEEEEE-LISH! I was quite pleased with my creation. I put it on a spinach salad with a boiled egg (carrots and other fixins for the salad that I’m used to are few and far between here) and thought I did a pretty good job. I opted to have apple juice instead of red wine, but that was a bad move. I guess there’s no sugar in their juice, but it tasted like stale beer or something. Yuck! And I got the big bottle, too, because I like AJ so much. Not this kind! Oh well, still more to figure out after 2 months.

Copyright 2005 Olivia R. Reed

Count Oldie Von Moldie

I would like to give a shout out to my father, who turns 54 today. Or if you're in Korea where they add a year the January 1st after your birth, he's 55. Have a great day and dinner, Pops! Hello to the Gauthiers and Hauffes!

Copyright 2005 Olivia R. Reed

Judaism and Jell-O

Elderly people in Korea are especially mobile. They aren’t only out in droves, but they don’t seem to need as much help as the ones back home. I saw a woman last week—and I’m not even being funny—but she was a perfect right angle, maybe even acute, she was that hunched over. If it wouldn’t have been rude to take a picture, I would have, because the sight was so unbelievable. Regardless, she was walking along the sidewalk, heading to take care of errands or whatever people do whose bodies support geometrical formulas, completely uncaring about her posture. I sorta felt proud of her, because I imagine it’s a lot more work for her to get around than it is most.

I am confused about my T-Money card. This is the piece of plastic that allows me to ride the subway a little cheaper than buying a ticket for each trip. I put money on, scan it as I enter the turnstile, and before it lets me through it deducts a few cents. I spend about $2/day going to and from my Korean language class. For whatever reason, it doesn’t seem like mine has removed the appropriate amount because at the end of the week, I have more left over than I ought. But it will not let you walk through if you haven’t paid. Unless the subway fairies are adding more money to my card while I sleep, I am glad for the malfunction. Since I’ve been in this class for eight days, I’m just taking it as a transportation Hanukkah.

So I’ve mentioned how I work with a guy from Utah (who supports USC). He is always full of Utah facts, and gleefully interjects them into any conversation you’re having, no matter how irrelevant. The other day we were discussing how certain brand names have become synonymous with their product (like BandAid, Vaseline, Thermos, etc.) and when you think of things like “carbonated drink” the first thing most people think of is “Coca-cola.” Well, insert useless Utah fact here. They not only have more Mormons than anywhere else, but they have more Jell-O consumption than any other state. (Yes, “gelatin” is tantamount to Jell-O, but who cares? And because he supports USC, he deserves mockery). Can I get a round of applause? No, I didn’t think so.

While I’m making fun of my co-worker, I should also note the political status he boasts. He claims to be socialist. For those of you unfamiliar with the affiliation, it’s defined as a mix of capitalism and communism. Basically, they want the government to run everything and control the economy so that everyone is equal. Higher taxes, more government control. People who are of this belief generally drive very run of the mill cars, live in normal houses, wear non-name brand clothes, etc. Just sort of a middle of the road, non-flashy lifestyle to promote equality across the board. They claim to practice what they preach, and perhaps this guy is one of the reasons they are not a large, successful party in the US. We shared a clothes iron before payday arrived, and if I had it when he needed it, he would just ask if I’d iron his shirt along with the things I had. I said sure because I didn’t mind. In doing so, I noticed Banana Republic, Nordstrom, and other “ordinary” labels that every bum on the street wears. Any story he has begins with, “My friend/uncle ___(insert name here)___ is SOOOOOO loaded. Like, you don’t even know how much money these people have.” And then this “Average Joe” proceeds to describe homes, jobs, nifty car features, and the like. Sounds pretty commonplace to me, don’t you agree?

In learning the Korean alphabet, I’ve noted several facts. There are no letters “f”, “v” (my name is oh-lee-bee-yah), “x” or “z.” There are different letters for each of the following sounds: the “ue” in blue, the “oo” in good, the “o” in dog, the “wa” in water and the “wa” in wall. There are two different letters for the pronunciation of “eh” and “yeh/yeah.” “R” and “L” are the same letter, as are “t” and “d”, “g” and “k”—but that one I can understand more. Just an interesting differentiation. I don’t know if it’s preferable to have an alphabet that absolutely covers every single possible noise your mouth can make, just to distinguish pronunciations, or one that’s more vague so that you are left to interpret it all yourself.

No more “good game” bottom pats from my co-worker, just for the record. She did tell me I have a “high nose.” I asked her what she meant and she explained that Asians have noses that are almost flat against their faces. A “high nose” is one raised off of the face. She said she wants a high nose like mine. She said Korean men like high noses. I said, “No they don’t. Korean men don’t like American women.” She explained that they don’t like American women, but they want a Korean woman who looks like an American woman, as indicated in many of the advertisements I’ve seen. Go figure.


Copyright 2005 Olivia R. Reed

Some dance to remember, some dance to forget

Well well well. I sure didn’t expect the birthday bash to turn into what it did, but it did. It started out on the fourth floor of a sashimi restaurant just next to school with Mr Lee, Debbie (the Assistant Director), her husband Mike (Canadian who is also teaching English here), Amy (the secretary) and the 3 teachers; Alex, our manager, had the day off. Here, raw fish is called “whey.” I’d been warned that with this meal, the food just keeps on coming, so not to indulge in a dish too early on. It just so happened though, that one of these dishes was a bit too weird for me to indulge in. We’d had the usual side dishes and then the first dish of raw fish came out, but it was not the main course. Yummy! Then some soup, some rice, more side dishes. Then came the main dish of fancy raw fish. They were served on beds of noodles that looked somewhat like clear white Easter grass—they were cooked, but you don’t eat them. On the side of this main course was something I have never seen before on a dinner table and hope never to again. I could’ve been an Olympic gymnast with the way I flipped out when I saw it. They say raw, but I never thought they meant still moving!! This plate of wormy looking something or other was SQUIRMING! One of the little guys even crawled off the plate. HURL! You don’t throw them into the boiling soup in the middle, either, you put it on your kim (seaweed paper), and EAT! THEY ARE ALIVE! My face turned red and I couldn’t look at it. I had to make the people at my table hide it on the side of the big dish in the center, because I would completely lose my appetite if I had to watch squirming things being eaten while I was trying to have dinner. If you really want something that raw, why not just bite the durn thing while it’s still swimming? Oh man, it was the grossest thing I’ve ever seen on a dinner table in my life. I took a picture, though Mr Lee asked me not to because he’s afraid I will misrepresent his country. I said, “No way! THEY ARE MOVING!” There’s a difference between raw and living. None of the tuna or other sea fish I consumed had an ounce of wiggle in it. To top it off, that wasn’t even the end of the live dishes! This red straw shaped thing with a cone at the top came out on another plate with other raw fish. You could look at these things and just watch the light change on them because they apparently weren’t comfortable where they were. PEOPLE EAT THESE! They have no qualms about popping some little creature into their mouths that is the epitome of rare! Absolutely horrific. I thought I only had one rule for things here I wouldn’t try, and that was that they couldn’t have eyes. Now I have to add another, and that’s that it cannot be moving. Sick.

After dinner, Mr Lee wanted to go to a nightclub. Not the kind we’re used to at home, but there are individual rooms in Hotel Nostalgia, where we all went. There are 3 couches, in a “u” shape, a table, and all you need for karaoke. They delivered trays of meat and fruit and Mr Lee ordered a nice bottle of scotch (Andy and I guesstimated that he shelled out upwards of $500 on the entire night). There was Korean music as well as American (plenty of Britney Spears, of course), so no one was left out. We all sang some tunes and though the Koreans seemed to have more talent than I expected, I think I was sufficiently terrible. Nonetheless, no one cared, and if I knew the words or rhythm better than whoever had one microphone, they’d hand me the other and tell me to sing it. Amy drug me down the hall and the stairs to the dancefloor where there was one lonely guy trying to cut a rug. The stage had 3 Korean guys in red suits with no shirts underneath doing synchronized dancing. I was a cheerleader in high school for a bit, so I noticed that their moves weren’t sharp or tight, so in my opinion it was a bit sloppy. Regardless though, they had lots of energy and seemed to enjoy what they were doing. Amy and I proceeded to join the solo dancer and make fools of ourselves for just a couple of minutes. The people sitting in tables and chairs around us either thought we were so awful that they wanted to minimize embarrassment and help us out by hiding us in a sea of people, or they figured they couldn’t possibly look as terrible as we did, but all at once about 70 people got up and came to the dance floor to join. Feeling we’d done our parts, we returned to the karaoke room with the rest of our coworkers. Amy and Andy then left to dance some more, and Amy returned to retrieve me to join again. Andy was like “You have to come dance with this guy—he’s the funniest one out there!” so I was pulled into a circle of people and danced with a short, silly, man probably in his 40s. The crowd is definitely an eclectic mix. The guy told Andy and I that he wanted to teach us a Korean dance. He hiked up his right pants leg, kept his leg in the air, and hopped around. No pattern, no step, nothing. Just hopped around. I think he was attempting to make a fool of us, but we joined in even so. I had enough and returned to the karaoke room again. We sang some more, made our last one Hotel California, and then decided that at 1:30, we needed to head home. Mr Lee started handing out cash to pay for peoples cab rides home, and even though Amy would actually make a profit on this, she decided to come home with Andy and me, just a few blocks away. She insisted on buying more beer and staying up even later, though I had long been ready to call it a night (at the sight of thrashing edibles, I could’ve gone home!). Luckily, the party at 508 Tres Belle didn’t last too long, and I was able to get to bed before too late. Amy had insisted she take the bed and I have the floor, which suited me just fine. Then she decided that since she’s small, there was room for me. I was okay with this to start off with. Until I turned on my side, and she wrapped her arm around my waist. I rolled all the way over so that she’d let go, and it worked. I was highly uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to be rude to my co-worker whose culture thinks nothing of such behavior. She was speaking a little bit to me, and I wound up rolling back onto my back. She told me about how she’d had the surgery to have a double eyelid—as you know, Asians just have one, which is one notably distinguishing factor in their and our facial features. She said it was expensive, and all they numb is the area around your eye before they begin cutting and the blood begins dripping down the side of your face. I guess pain is beauty, but wow. Anyway, so she decides that after telling me about her surgery she wants to cuddle again, and this time hikes her leg up on to me. I mean, this is totally weird. I know it’s a different culture and all, but she was awake and consciously doing this. If it has ever happened with female friends in the past when one is asleep, you push them away and tell them the next day what a homo they are. So I got out of bed and went to make sure the door was locked, plants were watered, whatever just to have an excuse to move. I got back in bed and it happens yet AGAIN! I just thought, “Okay, maybe I can fall asleep fast and it’ll be fine.” She returns to the surgery talk and asks if it’s true that when American girls turn 18, they get boob jobs. I said some do, yes. To my knowledge, this does not open any door to molestation. To her knowledge, it was reason enough to grab my boob. For the second time in the night I flipped! I threw her hand off and said, “Amy! You cannot grab my boob!” And she says, “Hunh?” clearly not understanding the term. I explained some girls have boob jobs, mine are real. She makes some comment about my size and grabs them AGAIN! I removed her hand once more, flustered and aggravated and say, “Amy! NO! No grab boob!” I guess she gets the point, because for the time being, molestation ends. I’m ill at ease now, but it’s far past 2am and I desperately need to sleep if I expect to get anything done on Sunday. I decide I’ll think about it in the morning, and go to sleep. Luckily, I woke up before my frisker and took a shower—being sure to lock the door in case privacy isn’t common in this culture either. When she woke up, she felt sick from all the alcohol she’d had the night before. She proceeded to go to the bathroom several times, each time giving me a full report upon her return. I just sorta scrunched my nose, raised an eyebrow and didn’t say much. I was really bewildered at the whole turn of events. I mean, I’d seen people eat moving things, I’d seen people dance like fools and even joined them, I’d been molested, and I’d learned the Korean word for bowel movement. It was supposed to be a birthday dinner—what kind of present was all this? So she went on her merry way home, being sure to text me later. (Not to mention, at work on Monday, she smacked my rear end more than once. Last time I checked, I don’t play football. The strangest part is, she doesn’t think anything of it. She doesn’t seem to be hitting on me —I know she has a boyfriend of 2 years — and she doesn’t give me coy looks. She just likes to touch me. I feel like some sort of display at a children’s hands on museum.)

And so! Sunday evening several of us from training got together. Amy (same name as the girl I work with, but this is the one from New York who left the Peace Corps and came here) and I did our usual touring around together before meeting everyone for dinner. We found a great shopping area near one of the women’s universities here and not surprisingly, everything was more than affordable. One we went into had shirts and sweatshirts for $2.50. I bought a long sleeve t-shirt that says, “It takes a lot more action to fight AIDS than by wearing this T shirt, but it’s a good start.” I just thought it was cute, and for less than three bucks, you can’t go wrong. Eight of us from training had dinner at this restaurant in Sincheon that’s known for this noodle soup stuff. What’s in it is SPAM though! All the Koreans said upon arrival of our meal, “This is ghetto food!” It wasn’t bad though, if you didn’t eat the "meat" ;o) Amy and Heeyun and I skipped the bar everyone was going to afterwards and checked out more of the area. I bought a CD, knowing I get my first paycheck today and will be buying a radio/CD player after work tonight. I got a few things to wrap the goods I’ll be shipping back home and then the three of us got some yogurt and called it a night, with promises not to break the tradition next weekend. Hopefully it's the only part of this weekend that gets repeated!


Copyright 2005 Olivia R. Reed

CNN Article - Sad Truth!

http://www.cnn.com/2005/TECH/fun.games/10/07/korea.onlinegameaddic.ap/index.html

They can't stop playing video games
Addiction has proved deadly in some cases

Friday, October 7, 2005

SEOUL, South Korea (AP) -- Jun Mung-gyu remembers the throbbing pain in his head and shoulder aches from spending as many as 15 hours a day hunched over a computer keyboard battling his online foes.
"You have no life, you only focus on gaming, putting off everything, like getting a haircut," recalled the 27-year-old Jun, who was able to kick the habit earlier this year though he remains in the milieu, running an Internet cafe in southeastern Seoul.
For others, the addiction has become all-consuming, raising concerns about the health of the millions of gamers in the world's most wired country.
The habit has even been deadly: In August, a 28-year-old man died after nearly 50 straight hours of playing online computer games. The man, whom police refused to identify by name, was moved to a hospital after he collapsed while gaming and died three hours later.
Many of South Korea's 17 million gamers -- some 35 percent of the population, principally males in their teens and twenties -- are obsessive. At the 1,000 won-per-hour ($1) Internet cafes popular among young South Koreans, they'll sit eyes glued to monitors for hours on end. Sometimes play will extend for days.
"I've seen people who play games for months, just briefly going home for a change of clothing, taking care of all their eating and sleeping here," Jun said.
Gamers camped out at Internet cafes typically live on instant cup noodles and cigarettes, barely sleeping and seldom washing.
In this country of 48 million people with the world's highest per-capita rate of broadband connectivity at 70 percent, the rise in addiction to multiplayer online gaming is alarming psychologists.
The number of counseling sessions for game addiction quadrupled last year, the government says. There were 8,978 sessions in 2004 compared with 2,243 cases the previous year, and the first seven months of this year saw 7,649 sessions.
This year's gaming death wasn't the first such case of someone dying at a computer terminal in this game-crazed nation: In 2002, a man died in Kwangju after 86 hours of marathon gaming.
The latest casualty collapsed August 5 in the southern city of Daegu after having eaten minimally and not sleeping.
Doctors said they presumed he died of heart failure; no autopsy was performed. So obsessed by gaming was the man that he was reported to have lost his office worker job due to absenteeism.
"Such an addiction upsets the foundation of your life," said Kim Kyung-bin, a Seoul psychiatrist who counsels gaming addicts.
'I do it to win'

One of Kim's patients, a high school student, would leave his house and not come back for weeks, practically living in Internet cafes playing games, Kim said.
Computer games can also be a path to big rewards. Three cable channels are devoted to broadcasting game matches and a total of 4.5 billion won ($4.4 million) is given out as prize money in competitions each year.
Even the government is embracing electronic sports, or "E-sports," funding construction of the world's first e-sports stadium, to be completed by 2008, where online competitions will be displayed on huge screens.
Hong Jin-ho, a 24-year-old professional gamer, earns more than 133 million won ($130,000) a year, living and training with his fellow game team members in an apartment in central Seoul.
Hong, who specializes in Starcraft, a science-fiction strategy game, says he has never thought of video games as an addiction.
He admitted, however, that the seven to eight hours of daily training -- which sometimes drags on for nearly 24 hours before competitions -- can be physically challenging.
"My body doesn't welcome it, but I do it to win," Hong said.
Physicians working with professional e-sports teams recommend gamers rest 10 minutes with their eyes closed after every five matches, and never play in the same posture for more than two hours.
"The energy you consume (while playing) is immense. The degree of concentration and absorption is so great that you lose yourself," said Han Hye-won, 30, a university lecturer who says she plays four hours a day.
Han said she went through a phase when her mother had to pull the plug to get her to stop playing the battle simulation game Starcraft. She teaches "digital storytelling," the craft of writing scenarios for computer games.
Even Han's interaction with her students has gone virtual. She sets a certain time at which the class meets inside the game world, each in their virtual persona.
"You can play games like that because others are involved," Han said of serious game addiction. "It's not a game problem, it's people who had difficulty communicating with others resolving that difficulty through online games."

Butterflies, Karaoke, and Expletives

It has finally been discovered! The correct way to dial me from the US is 011.82.10.2273.5309. If you need information on what service to use to dial internationally, just email me because my dear pal Andy from NY has found a reliable one (it works for more than just this country, too!)

This past Tuesday, I began taking Korean classes. They are IMPOSSIBLE! The teacher speaks no English. I understand the effectiveness of learning another language by speaking it only, but I just wanted an overview of what we plan to cover, but I have to review the book to get the answer to that question. I don’t speak Korean to the children I teach (obviously), but they know tons more of my language than I do of theirs. I spend a lot of time each night on homework and reviewing the lessons of the day. I hope that I will be able to get around well enough before long though. All this work better be worth it!! The differences in vowels are so slight that each sound you make is very, very specific. Tya/cha/ja are all sonorously similar, but different letters. The word for “butterfly” sounds like “naaah pee” which reminds me of “nappy,” which is appropriate since Mariah Carey makes herself known for the butterfly. Another irony is that the word for “elegance” sounds like “ooh ahhh” –what do you say when you see Christmas lights or fireworks or something elegant? My class is very diverse though! There are 15 people: 2 are French, 1 is Russian, 3 are Japanese, 1 is Brazilian, 4 are American, 1 is British, 1 is Swiss, 1 is Belgian and 1 is Chinese.

In celebration of the 3 birthdays in the office last week, we are all going to dinner this coming Saturday. Mr Lee said that everyone has to prepare a song. Fortunately, I read about this in the Culture Shock book I bought before I came here. It’s better to humiliate yourself and sing out of tune and off rhythm than to decline. It shows that you like the people and trust them enough to make a fool of yourself in front of them. Could be much worse ways to do it do it I suppose, but I’m still deciding which song to do. Mr Lee said it had to be Korean. He’s SOL with that one—I hope they approve of my choice!

One of my students hollered, “oh shit!” yesterday in class. I whirled around and forced myself to refrain from laughing when I corrected him and told him he could not say that in class—it only prompted questions from classmates as to what he’d said, so they kindly spelled it out for one another. But he used it correctly, and in the same way my French professors made us say “ooom” instead of “um”, at least he was cursing in English.


Copyright 2005 Olivia R. Reed

Nobody likes you when you're twenty three

Well, Blink 182 has a song whose lyrics include “Nobody likes you when you’re 23.” I think there’s some truth to it, too. My birthday was this past Friday (on the same day my mom turned 50!) and it was definitely a good one. At work, they had a cake for me. I was the third birthday of the week, and the first cake was sweet potato, the next was some sort of fruit, and mine was mocha—what a winner! The director gave me a really nice bouquet of flowers and the secretary gave me an air-cleaning plant (I had this in mind for my apartment, but I didn’t know how to ask the botanist which plant does what) and a pineapple! Several friends –including some from training, some I met at other random places – got together and went out to Hongdae for Club Night. The last Friday of every month is when people here get paid, so they usually celebrate in this hot spot. It was nasty and rainy, but there were still a lot of people out. Music here is funny, because it’s either so new that you don’t yet know it, or it’s so old that it brings back memories. I joked that they are just now getting the Gin Blossoms, but they’d mix in some Pimp Juice shortly. Clubs close at 6am, but I had to work on Saturday, so we called it quits at 3am, then had a slumber party at my apartment as girls like to do. Good times for sure.

On my way to Hongdae, I was complimented by a nice Korean man. I was standing up as the train was moving and he offered me his seat. I declined, but he insisted. So I took the seat and he asked where I am from. I told him America and he got really excited. “Oh I love your country!” He said. “Americans are so nice!” I said thank you and he kept going on and on about what a wonderful place it is. He asked where I’m from and I told him the South, and he started to tell me something about how it takes money to travel across the US. I’m not sure what he was getting at, but then we reached his stop and he said goodbye in all different ways: “See you later”, “Goodbye” and “Good night.” Funny, but also very nice to be reminded that people love the USA, despite the anti-Bush protests that were going on last week.

So my adventures this past weekend were to Yongsan Electronics Market and Kyobo bookstore (and in the middle, I bought 70 more postcards—so for those of you still awaiting yours, have no fear, I haven’t forgotten! For those of you interested who haven’t sent me your addresses, this is your call to action). Yongsan is right near the Army base and I started on my quest at the top for a Motorola RAZR for a friend back home and thought I’d work my way down these 8 floors of electronics. It was about the size of a football field it seemed—and nothing but cell phones on the 8th floor. There were TVs, rice cookers, blenders, stereos, mp3 players, DVDs… basically anything electronic you could dream of on the rest of the floors. I got hollered at to check out the goods at several different kiosks and I think some aimed to rip me off because I’m 1) white and 2) female. No luck though, I didn’t buy anything, merely checked out the goods.

Kyobo/Gyobo bookstore. Hmph. I’d been told it was huge and all that jazz. It was big, but it wasn’t like the Yongsan of literature. Maybe I expected too much. I did peruse the foreign section where, when purchasing “A Confederacy of Dunces”, was tapped by a quizzical young Korean boy. He said he has been studying English for 2 years, but that it’s boring. He asked what I was buying and sai he’d been reading Sherlock Holmes and wanted to buy the book, which is why he was there. I commended his purchase and, in agreement with his parents and of course my current occupation, told him that English is important. I complimented his grammar and answered a few more questions. Felt like I was in an interview, but I thought it was cute.

Amy and I ate at a ridiculously overpriced Japanese restaurant. We picked the cheapest thing on the menu (payday is still a week away) and man, for $10, you sure get a lot! Sashimi, yes, but baked fish, about 7 other yummy side dishes, and rice. Wow! I then rode the train home next to an extremely intoxicated older woman. I heard her say “Miguk saram” when I sat down, which means American. She asked me what my stop is, and I could only pretend not to understand her for so long, so when I finally told her she started acting like she had a gun. It was really strange. Several people around laughed when I said “Uh oh!” to the man next to her telling me theirs was the same stop. Crazy old, drunk Koreans!

Today is my brother’s 26th birthday. Tomorrow is my first day of a beginner’s Korean class. I have to walk about 20min to the subway, ride the train for about 40min, walk 20min to class that lasts 2 hours, then come all the way back and begin prepping for my classes that end at 10pm. So they will be long days, but I’m really excited about the class. I plan to bring plenty of class prep and reading material with me on the sub ride so that most of my things will be finished by the time I arrive to teach. I’ve already bought school supplies and colorful pens, just what my nerdy and OCD self likes to do. I just want to be able to get around by myself and understand the gist of what’s going on.


Copyright 2005 Olivia R. Reed