Strange things that Koreans believe: Lesson 1

Most important things first: I am completely floored that people are actually reading my blog -- and commenting, too!  You've made me even more excited about this little bloggy endeavor.  Let's hope I can keep things interesting so it's worth your while to keep reading and commenting!

I should also beg your forgiveness up front if this post is a little wonky.  I'm not sure if it's the jet lag finally catching up with me or the 1-hour Korean/Hangul crash course that I just finished, but I'm suddenly exhausted and my brain feels like jelly.  That probably won't keep me from going over the survival Korean chapter in our orientation handbook, though, as it looks like it might help clarify a lot of what the Korean teacher was so encouragingly throwing at us at warp speed.  While others are watching a Korean movie or hitting up the soju, my roommate and I are going to exercise our typing fingers and then hit the sack.

Yesterday I finally figured out why our a/c unit keeps shutting itself off: fear of FAN DEATH (dum dum dummmm).  I had been told about this before, but had forgotten about it.  Apparently it is a widely held belief in Korea that if you leave a fan or an air conditioner on overnight, it will suck the oxygen out of the air and kill you.  This is a phenomenon known (at least to westerners) as fan death.  The extremity of this belief is increasingly giving way to the milder version that sleeping with a fan or a/c on just makes you sick (instead of killing you), but being as how I've slept with both a fan and a/c on all night for most of my life, I am not inclined to buy into this.  And I kind of resent waking up at night in the Jeonju summer heat (which is 10 times worse than DC summers -- I swear the humidity borders on 99% here) because someone decided to protect me from my own reckless sleeping choices.

Fortunately I slept pretty well last night thanks to a rather tiring round of Korean-style karaoke.  We had originally intended to just find a bar in which to sample some of the local selection of soju, but the university seems to be on the outskirts of the city, and since classes aren't in session right now, we were hard pressed to find a place that was open.  Instead, we purchased some not-so-fine beer and soju from a FamilyMart and plopped down on the steps outside one of the closed establishments.  It hadn't cooled off much, and the preying mantises (manti?) presented a challenge in avoidance (they're like moths in the US, flocking in droves to lighted store windows -- perhaps after the other bugs that are drawn to light?), but there's something kind of fun about drinking in the street.  Probably because it's a serious no-no back home, and the last time I did it was in Paris, so fond memories and all.  Our group slowly grew larger as others in the same bar-less situation glommed on, and someone suggested that we find a karaoke room.

Yes, room; not bar.  They're little, in this case underground, BYOB establishments where you rent a small room for a certain amount of time and regale your group with your vocal (and sometimes dance) talent.  This is good, in that mass embarrassment is replaced with small-scale humiliation.  It's bad in that each person gets much more singing time, and people feel the need to put additional pressure on the more reluctant participants (i.e. me).  I've never really been one for karaoke -- I can never hear well enough to stay on pitch and the mediocre musical stylings of my tipsy fellow bar denizens pains my musical sensibilities.  Last night, I was the one causing pain, as I had warned my companions would happen.  They did not listen; I went ahead and got it over with; I was not asked to sing again.  The night ended with all of us belting out a long round of classics en masse and then retiring a good hour before our 1am curfew.  All in all it was good fun and another opportunity to get to know my fellow teachers.

This morning we had to report in shifts for the health check (necessary to secure an alien registration card), which brings me to the second item in Strange Things That Koreans Believe.  This exam included the works: height & weight, blood pressure, eye exam, blood work and a chest x-ray, all conducted in an assembly line of wide-eyed, green EPIK teachers.  I felt rather like a horse that was being looked over before purchase -- if I don't pass, will they not buy me?  We were told to fast for 6 hours before our designated examination time.  The strange thing about this was that water was also on the forbidden list.  I understand the need for fasting before bloodwork, and am accustomed to fasting for 8 hours rather than just 6.  But no water?  No coffee, no soda, sure.  But water??  And there was a pee test involved in the exam, which proved rather difficult for many people.  They gave us a small (perhaps 6 oz) container of orange juice after the phlebotomists had finished with us, but when you haven't had any water since the night before (and in my case are even more dehydrated from drinking the previous evening), your body just sucks that up like a sponge.  Nothing goes through, at least not for quite a while.  Add to that the fact that my exam shift wasn't until 11am and the toilets made available for our use were squatters, and I had some serious issues with peeing in a cup.  Now I'm no medical professional, but I can't see what purpose this served.  Perhaps they just wanted to make sure they got a very concentrated urine sample, which they certainly did from me.

I'm sure there must be some weird/unfounded stuff that Americans or other westerners believe, too, but as an insider it's hard for me to think of any.  Anyone else know of something?  Or perhaps have an insight into the water ban?

Oh, who am I kidding.  I'm going to bed now.  I'll study my Hangul later.  I need to rest my brain so I can make it through a full day of classes tomorrow.