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…