Ghost Stories and Random Things of Note

• I was a venerable American ghost for one full evening. My bank called me to let me know that I needed to physically go back to the bank and pay my transmittance fee for my recent transfer of funds to the States. They couldn’t just take it out of my account? Anyway. I get to the bank and try to the use the ATM. 1st machine didn’t work. Move on to the next. Same thing. Move on to the next. Same thing. A Korean teller comes out and tries her hand….voila—Korean magic strikes again! Confused, she takes my hand and physically puts it on the touchscreen. Nothing. She uses her Korean fingers again. It works. She feels my fingertips and loudly stammers, “You have no fingerprints.”
  Coming home from Christmas gimbap night in Seoul, I take the bus from Sadang that drops me off right in front of my school (which is great, since my apartment is only a 5 min. walk from there) – I try to be polite and let an old man walk in front of me to exit the bus first. He stops to press the red button again, realizing the next stop is his. I move past him toward the exit when the bus driver, looking right at me, closes the door. I yell “Yogi! Yogi!” – (here, here), not knowing what else to say, but he continues on in his Korean-bus-driver-robotic way until the next stop where I make sure to be first in line. It sucks being an American ghost.
• To all my Jewish friends: get ready to laugh. At my last English teacher class, we got on the subject of relationships (this comes up a lot). When I told them that I used to date a Jewish guy and that I have a special Yiddish name: shikse (non-Jewish woman), they looked at me and laughed saying, “You were his meal?” Shikse (shik-suh) is the exact same word for ‘meal’ in Korean. How bout that.
• Christmas Eve. I generally greet the students with the usual “good morning/afternoon, how are you?” and scold them if they say “fine and YOU?” or “so-so”, telling them they sound like textbook robots or applauding their use of correct normal, everyday English responses. But today, several students have responded saying “sad, teacher.” Why sad? It’s Christmas Eve! “Stay til 10pm, teacher.” Oh. So I’ve been hauling out even more candy than usual, hoping to lift their spirits with momentary distractions of sweetness.
  It’s still sad though.
• I’ve officially booked my tickets for Vietnam! Stopover in Hong Kong there and back, 10 days alone in this beautiful country. Much research and visa-getting to do, but for the moment, I’m dreaming of Saigon and Halong Bay.
  

It’s perhaps unnecessary to write here, but despite my Saigon dreams and lost in translation distractions, I’d still give anything to be in Chicago, Ann Arbor and NYC for the holidays. Alas.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Machines With Secrets

Every week I hold a conversation class with any English teacher at my school who dares to come talk to me about such things as Love in America vs. Love in Korea, The Importance of Appearance in America vs. The Importance of Appearance in Korea and so on. All told, I have a pretty steady group of about 6 female teachers that manage to make it every week, with the new addition of Mr. Lee (pronounced Mr. E) as he fills in for Ms. Yoo as she attends her month-long training for learning how to say ‘personaliTy’ rather than ‘personalARy’. This isn’t meant as a slight—her English is rather good, she just has this weird tendency to horribly mispronounce random words.

A few weeks ago, I conducted a lesson on ‘Social Problems in Korea’. I didn’t expect the teachers to be thrilled about the lesson considering their strong dislike of talking about anything negative in regards to Korea, but I had gotten to a point where I felt I needed to address this topic. “Korea has social problems? What are you talking about??!” -- is how I imagined them responding. They were, however, surprisingly eager to discuss the topic, a couple of them, shockingly so.

When I brought up how Korea is #11 in the world in suicide, a hush fell over the group… Until the candid Ms. Kim spoke up and informed us all that two girls had slit their wrists in the bathroom a few weeks back. I was flabbergasted. She was talking about it in such a rote manner I had to remind myself what it was we were talking about. Two girls, no doubt, bombarded by the pressures of school and parents, crying for help. Ms. Kim also indicated that this is a recurring ‘problem’. I asked them all why they think this ‘problem’ exists in Korea. The first answer given (similar to the answer my fellow wannamin friend received) was “it’s because of the economy, I think.”

But it’s not. I can tell you right now that those girls didn’t find themselves bleeding in the bathroom because of how distraught they were about the couple percentage point increase on the unemployment rate. Most likely, they were beyond exhausted from attending school 75+ hours a week and had no idea how to deal with it or who to talk to. The mental healthcare system here is nonexistent—and to someone who deeply cares about mental health and its availability to those who need it, it is *scary* to me how pervasive its nonexistence affects the people here. I should not be having casual conversations about girls in bathrooms or the inconspicuous netting in between shopping mall floors or the new glass barriers put up all the time in Seoul subways. This should not be happening.

And yet—I look around and everyone seems contentedly distracted or at the very least, busy enough to not seem as affected as one might think, given the circumstances. That one Korea Herald guy was right: Korea and its citizens are the middle children of the world. Forever fighting for attention, forever resentful- but still, somehow, rather good at hiding their flaws and usually, successful.

Korea video #2

As I indicated on FB-- please forgive the music transitions. My computer isn't allowing me to change them. In any case, I hope you enjoy it anyhow.

Music:
Shankar Jakishan "Bombay Talkie"

Neon Indian "Deadbeat Summer"

Of Montreal "Sink the Seine"

Amon Tobin "Nova"

Disclaimer: I Am Not an Alcoholic. Alcohol’s Just Been a Catalyst Lately…

I’m thinking of more serious things at the moment, but these thoughts have not yet been articulated to the new-blog-post-worthy-stage, so for now, I’d like to expound on a sweet debauchery:

One of the best feelings in the world is coming home after a long night of self-indulgence (read: some serious drinking) -- you know- those last few moments before reaching your door- intensely dreaming about the comfort and warmth of your bed and refrigerator (tho hopefully your fridge isn’t warm). Putting on your favorite raggedy, yet oh-so-comfy jammies that make you feel like you never ever want to go outside again- especially not tonight. As with everything, this feeling eventually fades away and you eventually get out of bed and eventually put that box of cookies back in the cupboard and eventually makeyour way to the outside world again. But sometimes, sometimes… I wonder if the reason why I go out some nights (esp those nights when I’m going out just so that I don’t fulfill my flake-like tendencies) is purely just to come home to this feeling.

But somehow, it always goes away. You can’t fight it. Eventually this cozy, comfy feeling turns into you staring either at your TV or computer screen in a half-crazed stupor wondering where the hell your day went and questioning why it’s already dark outside. Then you go through the five stages of I Couldn’t Have Drank That Much Last Night Syndrome (which weirdly resembles the famous Kubler-Ross model on grief):

1. Denial. This isn’t happening to me. Why, when I look outside, is there no more sunlight? Must be North Korea testing out its new block-out-the-sun missile. Yeah, that’s definitely it.
   
2. Anger. What have I done to deserve this? I remembered the whole drink 1 glass of water with every drink rule and I ate. If anything, I ate way too much! This really doesn’t make any sense! Why is my day gone?? Why do I have to suffer this feeling of Saturday night disillusionment? Also, I don’t feel that good!
   
3. Bargaining. Ok, just make it 2:00pm again and I swear, this will never happen again. I will stop buying those ridiculously warm Korean towel pants that make it difficult forme to stop wallowing around in bed - and I will stop cursing at the emptiness in my cupboards… if you’ll just give me a little more time.
4. Depression. What’s the point? It’s already past the point of no return. I should just finish this box of Mother’s Fingers cookies and call it a night.
5. Acceptance. But you know what? I guess there’s no point in fighting it. Yes, the day is gone, but the night remains. And…if I go out tonight…maybe no one will notice that I’m wearing jammy pants.

And so it goes.

I’d like to add a quick Korean layer to all this. Upon coming home, I suffer the strange Korean reality of walking home toward red electric crucifixes. (and btw, I know what you’re thinking. Shouldn’t it be crucifi? Just say it out loud.) On those particularly brutal nights, I wonder what I could have done to be walking toward a sea of these things.

But then I see a swarm of Rain posters plastered on the side of a building and the endless upon endless cell phone shops and realize where I am…and that this is just how Korea is.

More on that later…

America: gin and Deliverance, ROK: soju and NxNW

There exists an actual full-blown study on the nature of jealousy and Facebook. You can read the short version here or the full version here.

And, in case you don’t already know this, the NY Times reference tool is amazing! Any word you don’t quite know the meaning of or any famous person/politician/whomever—just double-click on the word in the article and a reference window will pop up and tell you all about it (it doesn’t work on the blogs.) Also: my nerding-out filter has been temporarily shut off due to Dayquil ingestion and lack of quality sleep! I can't stop using exclamation points!!!

My eyes have taken on that half-shut whimsical look that can only be the result of either really good (recreational) drugs or some white-blood cell attacking illness. Unfortunately for me, it's the latter. And no, I don't have AIDS-- probably just some stupid cold. But unlike how I fight it in the States-- with a good bottle of gin and a screening of Deliverance, I will have to settle for a good bottle of soju and a screening of North By Northwest. No gin because the ROK hasn't discovered its wonderfulness and thus, is ridiculously hard to find -- and no Deliverance due to recent unsatisfactory conversations about it. (It's never the case that watching North By Northwest is settling-- never.) I've found that a good bottle of alcohol and a movie in which the main character is trying his best to escape some tragic or unfathomable situation really speeds up the recovery process for me. So here's hoping!

GOD what I wouldn't do for a bottle of Bombay gin...not only can you not find gin here-- but in the rare instance that you do-- the brand is some limping/crippled/diluted version of Bombay and most of the time tastes like antifreeze. I think I saw Beefeater once in a bar-- but you had to buy the bottle and it was around 350,000 won (roughly $250). Come on!

Note to self: I live in Korea, not in outer space

So…FACEBOOK. For awhile now, I’ve been thinking of writing about the many ways in which FB ruins people’s lives—or will, eventually. If it were an actual dissertation, I think I’d call it something like: The Aesthetics and Social Deconstruction of the New Technological Dystopian Order, Otherwise Known as Facebook – but, dear readers, I have not fully finished my thoughts on the subject (mainly by being distracted from FB itself—what irony!) – so, in the meantime, I will share with you some recent foreigner-living-in-Korea observations.

It’s getting cold here. I now feel justified in having paid that extra $250 to push my suitcase through United’s luggage carousel of death to be able to have my inflatable garbage bag of a winter coat with me now. Halfway justified anyway. Actually—I’m still pretty mad about it.

But with the cold has come yet another reminder of how I am not in outer space-- that I am in fact, just on the other side of the world. Sometimes when I see Korean kids with their unlaced hip-hop sneakers or young Korean men with faux-hawks and gold chains, I get images of those scenes in movies or cartoons where the main character visits some alien world where everything looks the same, except the people are actually aliens. I can understand if this comes off a bit…racist, though that sounds too strong- maybe ethnocentric? (as in, since America is the center of the universe, everyone else is just imitating American culture and look like aliens while doing so) What? You guys go to the mall too?? And you also eat in fast-food restaurants and go mad over local sports teams? (well, not that *I* do, but you know, the average American.) Strange stuff.

No matter, Korea has, so far, thoroughly exemplified its highly-praised four seasons. I have a feeling that as much as I like fashion and am willing to sometimes feel uncomfortable to look fashionable, these Koreans – I can tell already—are going to out-fashion me this winter. I will unabashedly admit that I look semi-homeless in my winter coat. But hey—at least I’ll be a warm hobo!

Which brings me to…homeless people in Korea. When I moved from Chicago to NYC, I was shocked upon finding about a quarter of the homeless population I was used to seeing. I learned later that the main reasoning for this was because of Giuliani’s (or as my brilliant friend, Laura, calls him: Crueliani) ‘broken windows’ scheme—where he cracked down on ‘crime in the city’ by arresting homeless people for doing things like jumping turnstiles. I did see a lot more homeless people on the trains in New York, but they usually danced for their dinner- literally. Or sang. Actually—the origin of my blog’s name came from this one homeless man I saw on the subway at least once a week. He’d go from car to car and would get money by threatening to sing. When no one gave him anything, he’d screech some 50s du-op song at the top of his lungs until someone threw him a buck. After gathering up all he could, he’d start his journey to the next car and this is when he’d take the opportunity to let loose all his spiritual and political beliefs, always starting off by saying “here today, born tomorrow folks!”. So, there you are.

In Korea, the only time I am sure that someone is genuinely homeless is if they are blind and travel from car to car, blaring old Korean music on their mini-boomboxes. Other than that, it’s pretty hard to tell if someone has a home or not. This is because Koreans are not afraid to sleep on the street. Namely, older Korean men. During my first couple weeks I stood aghast whenever I’d see groups of Korean men scattered along subway floors or even just lying in the gutter (I’m not kidding.) I later realized that these men were just drunk and had passed out on the street. Here’s a blog that gives a much clearer picture of this weird Korean tradition: http://blackoutkorea.blogspot.com/

It doesn’t matter that the homeless population is smaller here—I still feel horrible whenever they pass by me- they get no acknowledgment by their fellow Koreans. This isn’t to say that Americans’ treatment of homeless people is praise-worthy—not by a longshot. But at the very least, it seems Americans acknowledge the person—even if it’s a negative acknowledgment—they still see the person. Here, it’s as if a ghost with a boombox is passing through the car. Most often, people don’t even move out of the way. I don’t know, maybe it’s different for other people here, but this is what I’ve noticed.

Speaking of my brilliant friend, Laura (who lives in NYC)—here is a wonderful organization she’s created to do her part in the battle against homelessness. http://www.wheninneed.org/ Fed up with not being able to give money to every passing homeless person, she created these really helpful info sheets that list places where people can go when they need food/shelter/legal representation, etc. She calls them ‘Street Sheets’. Ingenious idea. In any case, she needs help with the website, so if you have a moment out of your day to spare, it would be *lovely* to give her any advice you can—point out anything you think could be better or – if you’re one of those people with ‘connections’ or ‘resources’ – you could even pass along your info if you think you can help in the effort. I don’t know how many people read this thing—but I hardly feel this is a shameless plug after plugging something like blackoutkorea! And anyway—it truly is a worthy cause.

I will be having my first American visitor this week!! My friend Brandon will be visiting for 5 days and in that time, it is my goal to show him how strange, lovely, depressing, magnificent this country really is. Wish me luck!

Memory: "(all alone in the moonlight) I can smile at the old days..."

So yeah, sorry about the recent non-posting. My brain’s decided to do a prolonged portrayal of a brain belonging to an 80 year old man with Alzheimer’s and has decided to go the method-acting route and *actually* embody the role. Aside from extreme writer’s block, I’ll have moments of extreme clarity (fleeting, at best), hidden within an expanse of fogginess. I think the 60s girl group, The Shirelles, can best explain the last few weeks:

The Shirelles’ ode to Renee’s brain :

Tonight you're mine completely
You give your love so sweetly
Tonight the light of love is in your eyes
But will you love me tomorrow?

Is this a lasting treasure
Or just a moment's pleasure?
Can I believe the magic of your sighs?
Will you still love me tomorrow?

Tonight with words unspoken
You say that I'm the only one
But will my heart be broken
When the night meets the morning sun?

I'd like to know that your love
Is love I can be sure of
So tell me now, and I won't ask again
Will you still love me tomorrow?

…

It’s when I watch movies that are set in NYC or Chicago (so...nearly every movie ever made) – that I think about all these watery images of my past, beautiful or not, they’re all lovely to me, now that I’m a world away. Or more specifically, in a place that has made nostalgia an everyday activity, a ‘checking-in’ with myself to remind me where I came from and where ultimately I will end up again. I agree that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I think it also makes memories more vivid and dream-like.

Heraclitus: “You can’t step into the same river twice.” Boy was he right. And it goes both ways. Every memory shapes you and you shape every memory so that nothing is ever cemented, is always fluid and ephemeral. This strikes me as both disconcerting and comforting, if something can be both those things at once. Disconcerting in that each memory is only as tangible as water in your hands and comforting, in the way that memories are living travel partners – because of the very fact that they are ever-evolving, their pulse is real and however you see them is a true representation of where you are in your life—they are not some brittle, wilted flowers stuck between the pages of old books. Their scent is strong and sometimes can hit you hard, good or bad.

I suppose all this talk of memory illustrates my consuming interest in the brain and what it tells us about the illusive/magical potential of human life. I think I mentioned in an earlier post that taking a walk down the street and thinking about taking a walk are one in the same in how your brain interprets these actions – which is why reading a book can be so engaging. You’re painting a picture of whatever you’re reading about and it pulls you in because your brain is taking the same steps to create these pictures as it would to actually live them out. Which is why -- when I'm walking down some street in Seoul and pass block after block of monotonous architecture, do I bask in the memories of walking down Michigan Ave. in Chicago or walking down 100 blocks on Broadway and watching the city morph into 20 different cities, every 5 blocks or so. This isn't to say that I don't appreciate Seoul (or ROK in general) -- there are absolutely some beautiful things to see...but. I can't help but feel there's something missing... I can't articulate it fully and won't bore you trying to figure out on here (unless you're already bored, then I'm sorry)... perhaps it'll come to me later.

Some recent things of note:

- Last week I attended a classical guitar concert with some of my co-teachers. My first real live music experience in Korea…in order to get into the concert hall, we had to stand in a line and wait to have our temperature taken. I’d heard many stories from fellow foreign teachers about how they’ve had to have their temps taken everyday before teaching, so I wasn’t too freaked out about it. UNTIL I realized *how* they were administering it. A nice lady all in white stood right in front of me and pointed a laser beam straight into my eye! Then she smiled a nice Korean smile, bowed and gestured toward the entrance.
While the guitarists were technically spot-on and showed great discipline, there was something missing. And it was only until I found myself nodding off did I realize what it was. Soul. Feeling. Things You Can’t Discipline Yourself Into Having. It was a little disappointing…
- Before I forget—some people have been asking about how Busan went. Well, it didn’t. After a calamitous chase to Seoul station, my friend and I ended up missing the train by TWO minutes. : (
- I went to a robot bar last weekend in Seoul. MOST AWESOMEST BAR EVER. The awning is this huge silver robot head with glowing red eyes and you order your drinks through the front window. They serve your drinks in I.V. bags (which sort of just look like clear Capri Sun drinks, but still, it’s pretty amazing). Quaint/60s-ish décor inside and just altogether fabulous. I want to go back there.
- I’m getting my first haircut in Korea this evening. I’m a bit anxious about it for obvious reasons, but especially since every Korean I’ve talked to about it has said that I need a perm with the cut. Why is that an automatic?? And also, I don’t want one! Are they going to force me to get a perm?? We’ll see how it turns out. Wish me lots of luck.

P.S. I’ve embedded a youtube clip at the bottom here that entirely encapsulates what I see and experience in this country almost everyday. It’s strange how quickly you get used to new things— for instance, I don’t even bat an eyelash when I realize that I’ve eaten copious amounts of kimchi and bibimbap 5 out of the last 7 days. Completely normal now.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDN7Nx5J6No&feature=player_embedded

Chuseok and other stories

So…quick update. It’s Chuseok (chew-sock)! Korean Thanksgiving. Was at a teacher’s ‘orientation’ Tues-Thur—and have off Thurs-Monday for Chuseok. Pretty nice.

I don’t even want to elaborate on the ‘orientation’ – and if you’re one of those types that can read between the lines, you know that my putting ‘’ around the word orientation would indicate it wasn’t that great. I will say this though. Some of the native teachers here are pretty weird and a couple of them are downright questionable. I understand that the bare minimum for becoming a native teacher here is having a bachelors and being a native speaker. But I would imagine when they came up with these requirements, they probably figured that along with these 2 qualifications, one should also know how to spell, not use words that don’t exist, maybe even have a genuine interest in the English language and what the hell, a dash of interest in reading a book. Again, this wasn’t everybody, but the fact that this describes more than one person is a little scary to me.

Actually, kind of a lot scary.

Other than that, I went to a casino for the first time in my life a couple days ago. They don’t let Koreans gamble—so it was mostly Japanese, Chinese and Westerners piddling their money away. It wasn’t what I imagined it to be…it felt like the tables were actually tiny funerals scattered along the gambling floor with drooling zombies on either side—one side drinking the other playing the slots. I was on the latter. Didn’t win anything. But I did pay $16 that night for a Bennigan’s sandwich that tasted like it’d just been taken out of a box and defrosted. So it wasn’t a total loss. :-/

Randomness:

• I’ve figured out what my favorite Korean food is so far: kimchi man doo gook: kimchi dumpling soup. My god is it amazing.
• There’s lots of free extras here. You’re guaranteed to get a gift set of items if you buy something at a skincare store. Even if you buy something really cheap. Most of my purchases have been around 5,000 won (~ $5) and even so, they’ll give me a heap of samples that I know cost more than 5,000 won. Pretty cool. Also, I went to a bread store the other week and bought a loaf of bread (how original!) – the nice lady gift-wrapped the loaf and stuck in 3 AMAZING pastries for free. There’s also this one grocery store where it’s impossible to buy a box of soy milk without it having a small soy milk box strapped to it.
• I had my first ever taxi ride with a FEMALE taxi driver! They usually don’t even exist in movies (I can only think of one: the one in Pulp Fiction that drove Bruce Willis after his boxing scene). Anyhow, this one was very nice and was highly amused by my dazzling handle on Korean – I said “hello”, “thankyou” and “goodbye”.
• Korean grapes. Beyond delicious. Also on the fruit front: citrus fruits are extremely rare here. And when you do find them, they’re very expensive (I pay around $2 for 1 orange) They also like to put fruit in gift boxes. Off topic: they’re obsessed with spam. I’ve found bonafide spam gift sets in souvenir stores. I’m not kidding.
• At the movies: every theater has reserved seating. You do not pick your seat, no matter what. I went to a film with a couple of my co-teachers and aside from us, there were 2 other people in the entire theater. I figured we could bend the rules a little, but no. They were really serious about it.

In just a few days, I’ll be going to the Busan International Film Fest! Busan is where I originally wanted to live—2^nd largest city, gorgeous and it's where Korea’s burgeoning film scene is located. Taking the fast train! Also might be staying in a ‘love motel’ since they’re pretty cheap. Should make for one interesting weekend…

1.5 fortnights in SK

Oh right...context

Sometimes when I’m tired as a result of my complete lack of self-control (read: staying up til 2am because somehow watching America’s Next Top Model w/Korean subtitles seemed like a good idea)… I get to talking to my co-teachers and they’ll ask me how to correctly say ‘spill your beans’ or they’ll laugh at my genuine attempts to say something in Korean, because they think it’s sweet… I start to drift nd always end up thinking about everyone and everything I miss in America. I’ll think about the last weekend’s adventure in Seoul- and how when I saw a group of Ghanaian men walking down the street, I get to feeling nostalgic. That’s right, I feel nostalgic when I see black people. In the midst of all this precious drifting, I’ll realize that I’m quietly mumbling my thoughts. Ms. Kang, who sits to the right of me, will then ask me why I feel nostalgic about black people since I come from America, and there aren’t many black people in America, are there? I’ll enlighten her, after pinching myself (just to make sure) and tell her that yes, there are hundreds, maybe even thousands, hell- maybe even millions of black people in America! Her eyes will grow into saucers and she’ll ask me how I felt living with so many people that didn’t look like me. I’ll try to articulate the treasures of diversity and how often times, I felt like I was in a movie walking through Harlem and the Village and Brooklyn, watching some of the most beautiful people in the world look at the other most beautiful people in the world. She’ll say “Harlem? Isn’t that where the N-words live? How do you understand what they’re saying?”

Except she didn’t say ‘the N-words’ – she said the real thing. Like it was a vocabulary word she picked up in a book for advanced ESL students. Before I launch into how I can actually understand ‘those N-words’ and how the way they talk is a vernacular of the American English language, not a speech impediment, I adamantly, adamantly inform her that the word she so carelessly shot out of her mouth has more gravity than the plastic surgery problem in Korea. Because who else is going to tell her? My other co-teacher? Ms. Lee, who, as sweet as she is, tries to convince me everyday at lunch that eating red meat is good for me and once, for a welcoming dinner took me to a local restaurant known for its meat dishes and sat right next to me eating dog stew as I sat slack-jawed before my ‘special meatless dish’ that had pork piled all over it? (yeah, that really happened) No, it was my responsibility. So I pulled out my pocket American flag and waved it around as I tamed the natives around me, spouting out American triumphs, ideals, history…

Or at least that’s how I felt as I calmly let Ms. Kang know that she shouldn’t ever use that word, never ever. And why. I’d never been put in a position where I had to tell another human adult that one shouldn’t say such a horrible word. And then I remembered.

Oh right…context. I’m in Korea, remember? She could have just as easily been explaining to me that I shouldn’t ever use the word “gook”. Never ever. And she could have told me why. And I would have left school appreciative of this new and important knowledge.

And then I would be sad.

Because before coming here, I thought that if I were around people who only spoke Korean all of the time, I’d eventually pick up the language and would sufficiently understand what was going on around me. I’ve learned, that’s not how it works. Most of the time, I feel as though I’m in a giant fish tank and all I hear are other fish murmuring and burbling through the water. Communication is muted at best and any occasional eye contact is watery- our filters for vision were born worlds apart.

But then I see the underbelly. Last Friday night I was a stranger in a strange land… in a strange land. I went to a drag queen show and ordered a ‘gintonic’ from a 6’5 Korean tranny. And somehow it was the most at ease I’d felt in some time since moving here. I have to allow for the obvious differences though. Like when the two people in front of me pointed at the beautiful drag queen’s package, covered their mouths and laughed uproariously. That sort of behavior is hard to find in comparable NYC clubs—or at least the ones I’ve been to. You’ll see for yourself, I’ll be putting up a video soon—and you’ll see they put on a good show. Even though it was 2:30am and my slip was starting to show, they made feeling like a stranger in a strange land… worth it.

Some stuff about my school

So people have been asking about my day-to-day at work, which I usually don’t talk or write about. But some of you are pretty nice, so I’ll give it a go.

I’m teaching at an all girls high school in Suwon. I have 17 classes throughout the week, two of which are ‘teacher classes’ where the focus is mainly on conversation. One class is for all the English teachers in the school and the other is for any non-English teacher that wants to learn more English. I’m at school from 8am – 4pm and have lunch at noon everyday. These are the healthiest lunches I’ve ever eaten. Also, now that I’m not eating meat, sometimes I can only eat the daily white rice and vegetable dish (usually some variant of kimchi.) Thankfully, a nice Korean lady comes around at 10am every morning and gives me yogurt, for which I pay a monthly fee. She saves me on days when I can only eat the rice.

Things of note about the school:

• Even though it’s public, every girl wears a uniform (white top and maroon skirt, w/some variation). And since every girl has the same hair color and roughly the same haircut, I’m a big racist and can’t remember most of their names. (might also be cos I’m teaching 500+ students)
• The students don’t go home after 4pm—they stay at the school and study until 10PM! I still can’t get over this fact and have not gotten used to seeing herds of schoolgirls walking the streets late at night by themselves.
• At around 2pm everyday, every student takes 10 minutes to…clean the school. I’ll be in the teacher’s lounge and a nice Korean girl will be sweeping behind my desk and another, cleaning my coffee cup. Now that’s what I call service! :-/
• The bathrooms: toilet paper is not a given, so you have to carry a roll around w/you at all times. Also, there’s about 1 or 2 regular (Western) toilets and the rest are squat toilets. The use of the latter has firmly cemented the reasoning for why I think Korean women have great legs.
• A funny/endearing fact: several of my co-teachers are extremely fond of the movie The Dead Poets Society and aspire to be like the teacher Robin Williams portrays.

So, that’s it for now. Soon I will be writing about my life outside of school. Namely, my recent excursions into Seoul – this last weekend having seen what was promised to be a tranny burlesque show, but was really a trannies lip-syncing to music show. It was still pretty amazing.

Taking a walk...

Did you know that walking down the street and imagining walking down the street utilize the exact same parts in your brain? So theoretically, if I describe how it is to walk down a street in my town, it’d be like you were right there with me.

So, let’s take a walk.

I exit my building and hang a right toward my school. Across the way is the neighborhood’s trash pile where the garbage collector gives me dirty looks since he assumes that I’m the one that messed up the garbage system, being the ignorant foreigner that I am. To explain, here in SK, they’ve taken an interest in the environment and have set up a system to combat unnecessary waste—which in theory, I love. In practice, oysh. You’re required to buy government regulated trash bags at designated stores. The yellow bags are for food waste, the white bags are for non-food/non-recyclable waste and shopping bags are for recyclables. So, now I have 3 garbage cans in my kitchen (or as I call it: a makeshift enclosure)… why can’t they just let me be the hypocritical American that I am? While I espouse all these beliefs in recycling, actually putting it into practice is a whole different ball game. Seriously though, at the end of the day, I know it’s worth it.

I walk a bit further down the street where a row of ajummas (“adult female individuals of married age”) --stop their conversation to all stare at me at once, with nasty scowls on their faces. Now, normally, I’d chalk this up to my paranoia…but, NO. This is the reality. Things I miss #1: not being scowled at on a regular basis.

I turn left onto the next road and realize that while I have my cigarettes, I don’t have my lighter and so stop into a convenience store to replenish. I haven’t learned the word for lighter, and stupidly I’ve forgotten my phrase book at home, so I hope that the cashier happens to know “lighter”. He doesn’t. I play charades, but since I’m HORRIBLE at charades, he thinks I’m throwing gang signs at him. Eventually, we come to an understanding and I walk out of the store having bought a weird Korean toy so that this cashier doesn’t hate me for the next 11 months. Things I miss #2: not having to play charades in order to communicate with other human beings.

I continue down the street and scavenge in my bag for a spare lighter, where I find 3 at the bottom of my bag. Awesome. I light up and bask in the wonderful drags of relief, only to find that an ajumma walking towards me has literally stopped in her tracks to stare at me in disbelief. Apparently, only ‘ladies of the night’ smoke in this country. Every single man here smokes likes a chimney, but it is utterly shameful for a woman to smoke in public. Things I miss #3: not being considered a prostitute for smoking on the street, but rather, a typical New Yorker. :-/

About 2 minutes later, I’ve arrived at my school where droves of precious Korean girls run up to me and say things like, “hi!!!” or “you’re beautiful!!” or “do you remember me?!”?

Things I like about Korea #1: it takes me 5 minutes to get to my job. Things I like about Korea #2: My students are adorable.

Travel and Travail

Last Saturday and Sunday, I chased the sun around the world. As dramatic as that sounds, that’s sincerely how it felt. After a sleepless night of packing (or cramming stuff into things that weren’t meant to hold twice their weight), I boarded a plane from NYC to Los Angeles. I could tell that some of my fellow passengers were also making their way to Korea, evidenced by the snickering heard whenever I’d take out my bright yellow Easy As Il, Ee, Sam Korean Language book. Whatever, teenage Korean girl sitting next to me. At least I’m trying!

Transferred from United to Asiana upon arrival in LA. Walked with my bulging tumor of a carry-on to the gate and paid $20 for a veggie sandwich, fountain drink and fruit cup.

On the plane to Incheon, I was the only non-Asian within sight. The plane was decked out with individual TV screens (like Jet Blue) – and I watched a terrific Korean film, Castaway On the Moon. Highly recommended. Also, the title pretty much summed up how I felt during the entire plane ride to Seoul. Neverending blinding daylight, unable to communicate with anyone around me and half-crazy from sleep deprivation. The constant sunlight was made stranger by the attendants insisting on closing every window for the entire trip. Strange feeling: knowing that it’s blindingly white outside, but forced into a cave-like environment for an inordinate amount of time. It felt as though I was on some lost episode of The Twilight Zone, drifting in an out of consciousness, eating food I’d never seen before (some dishes packaged in toothpaste tubes), strapped into an uncomfortable chair where aliens would observe me as they trotted by. The movies were my one respite and boy, did I take advantage. I even managed to watch New In Town after exhausting every other semi-decent option. Somehow the pinched face of Renee Zelwegger provided a weird comfort for me. I remember reading an article in The New Yorker about some American’s travels in Siberia and how, after traveling the barren landscape for several days, he found comfort in the occasional presence of American-like retail strips (or as I like to call them: concrete wastelands- like the town I grew up in.) It was akin to that.

Before I knew it (or rather, a long-ass time later) – I was in Suwon, awkwardly greeting my new Korean neighbors and standing in bewilderment at the size of my new apartment. Beyond small. But I suppose I shouldn’t complain since I’m not paying rent. Yeah, I shouldn’t. I won't mention it again.

So now I’m here. It’s my 3^rd day of teaching. There is, of course, lots of other stuff to note, but I wanted to begin with my harrowing journey here so that I don’t forget how I got here and that I did in fact, come here from another country- another city. New York City. That’s correct, right? Yes, I think so.

With my poor object constancy, it’s easy to feel as though I was dropped from the sky one day a long time ago and have been living here as a foreigner for some time. Honestly, it seems my object constancy is what helps me transition from one place to another. Pairing that with my lack of ‘normal’ foundations (e.g. religion, a dominant ethnicity, an attachment to family, etc.) – moving to a foreign country isn’t as difficult as one might think. Certain negatives have become positives here. My paranoia that everyone is staring at me has been completely justified (everyone really IS staring at me ALL of the time). Also, feeling like the requisite ‘other’ now has its place here. In a way, the confirmation of my paranoia and feeling alone is helpful. Because now I can focus on other things. Like learning Korean, finishing my script, getting healthy, et al…

I hope this feeling lasts.