The Common Octopus

I've been here for a long time. Just three months shy of two full years. So long that nothing seems weird any more. Or if it does, it's the normal, everyday kind of weird that I've come to expect, and I don't give it a second thought. There is one exception, though: The Common Octopus.

Now I have no idea whether what I'm seeing is actually the species of octopus called the common octopus - in fact, I suspect it's several different species that ooze around the tanks and giant buckets along the streets of Gwangju - but they are nothing if not commonly found in this country. Octopus is about as ubiquitous in the Korean diet as chicken is on Western dinner tables. It's certainly more appealing than some of the less identifiable seafood alternatives (멍게 or 개불, for example), but it still doesn't quite sit right with me.


Let me clarify. It's not the eating of octopus that doesn't sit right. I was initiated into the Club of Grilled Octopus Lovers when I was in Greece. It's the casual way they're housed and flung around. If they could all predict the outcome of important soccer matches like Paul the Octopus, I'd understand wanting to have one nearby at all times. As it is, they just kind of freak me out.

They're creepy. The way their bodies transform from slippery solid to oozy liquid when an ajusshi grabs them by the head and yanks them from the water. The way their suckers stick to the plate as if to save their lives, even after they've been chopped up and dressed with sesame oil in a handsome 산낙지. The way I just know their scheming, super-smart, squishy little brains are planning to take over the whole of Jeollanam-do if they could just get far enough down the street before the ajumma catches them and shoves them back in her bucket. And don't even get me started on that octopi vs. octopuses debate.

But living in Korea, neither live nor cooked (or prepared, I should say, for they are commonly eaten raw) octopus can be easily avoided. They reside in street-side tanks outside the seafood restaurants on every block. They show up regularly in my school lunches. An experienced Korean market-goer knows to keep an eye out to avoid stepping on one that's attempting a grand escape. There are even octopus trucks - like ice cream trucks back home, but a whole lot ickier.


So, for all the normalcy that has settled into my bizarrely run-of-the-mill life here, I can thank the common octopus for keeping it real(ly weird) for me. Please remember I said that, octopuses, when you're building your World Domination Headquarters.

Graduation at ShinGwang

I'm sorry. We all know what for. Now let's move on.

Today was graduation day at my main school. Since high school isn't mandatory in Korea, middle school graduation is a much bigger deal here than it is back home. The parents come with bouquets of flowers whose blooms are difficult to see under all the colored lace and fabric (because the flowers themselves aren't pretty enough already?), sappy music is played as the principal hands out diplomas, some of the students cry, and others are just thrilled to get the hell out of there.

Graduation didn't mean much to me last year. I'd only been teaching for six months, and was still struggling to adapt to the culture, let alone connect with my students. My attention was still frantically focused on not doing anything wrong or stupid-looking. I obediently stood in the line of teachers while graduating 3rd graders filed past after crossing the stage, and I did exactly what the teacher in front of me did: smile, shake hands and wonder how many more students could possibly be left to congratulate. Please God, don't let me catch whatever creeping crud is going around, since I'm being required to squeeze the clammy hand of every student who walks by. Add that to the fact that I'd just gotten back to frigid Korea from a gorgeous vacation in balmy Thailand and Malaysia, and I was just not a happy camper.

Today was much different. Having taught these kids for a year and a half, I was surprised to find that I've actually grown quite fond of them. That's really saying something for a person who's never liked children (i.e. anyone under 16, including adults who act like they're under 16). I was also somewhat dismayed to realize that most of my favorite students are leaving. It was touching, though, as many of them wanted a hug rather than a handshake, looking pleasantly surprised that I was actually there to see them off. A few came into the office for pictures before they left the school. I was certainly feeling much more emotional than I'd expected to, current time of the month notwithstanding.

One more semester left before I leave my students to the next native Englishee teacher. Rising 2nd and 3rd graders, you have big shoes to fill!

Jeju Redux

I've been back in Korea for almost four weeks now, and I'm amazed at how strangely normal everything here seems. The trip home was fabulous, but I was actually pretty happy to get back to my apartment, my friends, and yes, even my job here. I may not miss Korea itself very much when I leave, but I sure will miss my people.

Anyhow, I can now highly recommend that potential Englishee teachers start with the February intake, as second semester is soooo much easier than first. Doing what I did - beginning with the easy semester and then being like, "Wait, what happened to all of those holidays and school events?" the next semester - is a little bit tough. Happily, I'm now doing a repeat of the easy road. And our first holiday was only a few weeks into the semester.

Apparently our first time in Jeju wasn't enough - not enough warm weather, not enough tromping around in nature, and not enough sleep (stupid roe deer). So Paul and I decided to go back again, with a few extra days in hand thanks to the Chuseok holiday. This time we rented a car instead of a scooter (protection from the rain and more time for nature tromping) and stayed in love motels instead of camping (more sleep - sort of).

Our main goal for this visit was to climb to the top of Hallasan - the tallest mountain South Korea. Having not yet even vanquished my local foe of Mudeung mountain, I was quite nervous, and rightfully so - hiking in Korea is brutal. Koreans don't believe in switchbacks, seem to love climbing over big rocks rather than smoother trail materials, and - because you couldn't possibly have gotten enough exercise just climbing to the top of a mountain - there are usually workout equipment stations along the way. I comforted myself with the guide books that say the trail we planned to take is much less steep than most hiking trails in Korea, and by the impressively large number of hikers who climb that very trail every day. Never mind that the estimated time to get up the mountain (just one way) is 4 hours, and that if you don't reach the half-way point by half past noon, you're not allowed to climb to the summit. Oh, and the other fact that I was (am) so very out of shape. Poor decision? I think so. Too stubborn to let the mountain get the best of me? Definitely.

On our second day on the island, goaded on by the pictures of that damn deer on the "Protect our local fauna!" billboards (we were not going to let that island or its fauna get the best of us again!), we ignored the forecast for a second day of rain and drove to the trail head. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, hideously early in the morning, it started pouring. And I don't mean cats and dogs. It was more like pumas and dingoes. We squinted through the rain-washed windshield at the vague outline of three hikers who were apparently going up the mountain anyway - full hiking gear in place but perhaps a few marbles shy of an ideal collection. A bit of a shower is one thing, but hiking in this deluge would have bordered on masochism. So we sighed, choked down our remaining roasted eggs, and drove back down the mountain to see some of the sights we'd missed the day before.

Ilchulbong from a distance

We climbed up the Seonsang Ilchulbong and took the ferry over to Udo and back. Encouraged by how much we were able to accomplish during the day (since we got up so early), we stashed our hiking provisions in the little love motel refrigerator (soggy kimbap, anyone?) and planned to get up ass early again the next day. Surely the weather would be better - if it rained like that again, the entire mountain might wash away and it'd be a moot point anyhow.

Come Monday morning, the sun was actually shining and the two intrepid hikers dragged themselves out of bed, trying not to think about the fact that our friends were all going to spend the day on the beach. We drove to the trail head - the sun was still shining. We decided to go for it. As did everyone else on the island, apparently. The trail was packed with hikers of all ages and abilities, from grandparents to small children. I'm not sure how those on the extremes of the age spectrum made it to the top and back, as we perfectly healthy young(ish) folks were struggling. Hard. The trail might not have been quite as steep as most others in Korea, but it was still no laughing matter. The beginning seemed easy enough, and we thought we were just going to breeze right up to the top, but maybe 100 kilometers in, things got rocky. Literally and figuratively. I'm not sure whose decision it was to "pave" large portions of the trail with big chunks of volcanic rock, but it was a bad one. Makes climbing very hard on the feet and ankles.

At the summit! And still standing!

Four and a half hours after we started, we had huffed, puffed, snacked, gasped, tripped (me), and hauled our way to the top. The top of Hallasan sits in what seems to be a perma-cloud, and a chilly rain was falling during the final portion of our ascent. It stopped when we reached the summit, though, and the cloud even cleared away long enough for us to get a few pictures of the volcanic crater-like hole in the top of the mountain (which does not, by the way, look anywhere near as cool as it does in photos that they use to advertise trips to Jeju). The glassy lake that I was expecting was more like a muddy puddle, and the summit was so crammed with other hikers, they were nearly all you could see besides the cloud that we were in. Oh yeah, and the crows lurking around, hoping I'd drop some of my lunch. Fat chance, birds. Even if I had dropped part of it, at that point I'd probably have fought them to get it back. We stayed there for about half an hour, then began our descent.

I did not expect that the way back down would be even more difficult than the climb up. Our legs were already fatigued, and the rain had made all of those rocks very slippery. It's a real miracle that I got down the mountain without breaking something critical, like my arm or face. But we did finally make it to the bottom, stumbled our way to the car, drove to Jeju City, and found a nicer-than-usual love motel with decent pillows to rest our exhausted, aching bodies.

It may have been painful, but as we flew home the following morning, I was quite happy to have finally climbed The Highest Mountain in Somewhere. Good thing, too, as that "happy feeling" stuck with me all week, making even the set of stairs to my classroom seem like an almost insurmountable obstacle. It's probably not something I'll do again, but at least I can tick it off the bucket list. Hike the highest mountain in Korea: Check!

And now I proudly present to you another list.

It occurs to me that I should probably rename this blog “Making Lists in Korea”, except this one was made in the U.S.A., so I can’t. I mean, I would, as I accept, and even own, the fact that I am a compulsive list-maker. It helps me arrange my life and understanding into an (often artificial) sense of order. But that's not what this post is about.

I’ve been back in the States, for a much-needed break from Asian life, for a couple of weeks now. From what I’ve seen so far, the city of Washington, DC still exists (YAY!), as do Northeast Tennessee and the Eastern Shore of Maryland (only slightly smaller ‘Yay!’). America seems to be getting on just as I left it, with perhaps a somewhat more dire case of the Crazy Congress Critters. I’ve actually been rather surprised at how fluidly I’ve re-taken to Western life, but there are still certain snags that I’ve run into. Below, an accounting of the Korean habits that have apparently become deeply ingrained in my psyche, for better or for worse.

Things that are normal, acceptable or necessary in Korea but that get you nowhere (or get you strange looks) in the U.S. of A.:

Expressions and phrases:

• “Let’s get some fish water from the chicken lady.”
• “Turn on the floor.”
• “I’m going outside to get some bean fish.”
• “Put it in the food bucket.”
• “Have you checked the Cheon Won store?”
• “Take a rest.”
• Also, using various non-American words or phrases. Living in an international hodgepodge of an expat community, I’ve picked up many of my friends’ linguistic habits and use them interchangeably with my own. I never know what’s going to come out when I open my mouth these days. Unfortunately, it sounds a bit pretentious here at home.

Gestures and customs:

• Bowing to…well…anyone and everyone. The grocery store clerks, in particular, think I’m really weird when I bow as I leave.
• Smiling and/or waving at every foreigner I see. This has many problematic angles. For instance, I can’t possibly wave or smile at every single non-Asian person that I see on the street. Should I switch things up and start smiling and waving at everyone who looks like they might be Korean?
• Using two hands to do things that really only require one hand, such as exchanging money or pouring drinks. In Korea, it’s polite. Again, kind of pretentious and a bit odd in the U.S.
• Sorting trash into five different receptacles. This is unnecessary in the States, and often impossible. Even the hippy-est of families usually only have three: recyclable, not recyclable, and compost. I often find myself over-thinking the disposal of my waste here.
• Tooth brushing in public. Most Americans feel that this daily hygiene routine is best done in private, and usually only twice a day. However, it is done shamelessly and extremely frequently in Korea, to the point where Korean teachers will actually make a phone call with toothpaste and a toothbrush hanging out of their mouths, and children walk down the hall in little cliques, brushing away. Though I sometimes find myself beginning to walk out of the bathroom to go talk to someone mid-brushing, I am not unhappy to have a break from all the foamy mouths. Ick.
• Making major decisions with a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. In Korea, this game unquestionably and inarguably solves all disputes and brings fair resolution to difficult decisions. If you can win a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, you are clearly a winner in other areas of life and deserve to be treated as such (until you get beaten out next time). In America, well, it gets less respect than a coin toss. Also, yelling “가위 바위 보!” instead of “Rock, paper, scissors” doesn’t go over so well.

Even when I do things the “normal” American way, I find myself just a little more conscious of what I’m doing than I used to be. Much of it is, “Ah yes, this is how we do things in America.” But sometimes it’s, “Oops, wrong country.” At times, I even press my palms together in greeting as if I were in Thailand (despite that fact that I was only there for 10 days and that was 6 months ago). I’m sure I’ll be all confused again when I get back to Korea. Perhaps that’s the plight of living abroad for a while – interchangeable cultural hangovers.

Learning: It's what schools are for

Disclaimer: These are really just my own ideas from personal observation during 11 months of teaching in Korea and having completed K-12 in the American public school system. (Back in the 80s-90s, admittedly. It’s entirely possible that U.S. schools have already adopted some of these suggestions, but I doubt it.) The list is far from exhaustive, the ideas are not studied or polled, and they are far from scientifically proven. In addition, it should be noted that I, myself, am about as far form being an expert in this area as I can be. I am also an extremely talented bullshitter. Take that as you will.

What American schools can learn form Korean schools:

• Metal lunch trays. Yes, they conduct heat and you sometimes burn your hand, but kids learn pretty quickly. And they are the most durable things EVER. Buy them once and you’re set until doomsday. Plus no questionable plastic-y chemical content!
• Give students an hour break for lunch. Encourage them to play soccer or badminton (or something a bit more American) when they finish eating. It’s like recess for middle and high school students, and it’ll keep them from being so fat.
• At the end of each day, have students clean the classrooms themselves. It teaches them responsibility and helps them feel some ownership of their environment. Theoretically (key word there), this means they will take better care of the school.
• Turns out uniforms aren’t such a bad idea. I would’ve hated them as a student, but they really do level the playing field a bit.
• Require more formal respect for teachers and authority in general. Small acts of formalized respect provide a far less serious line for rebellious students to cross when they feel like testing their limits.
• Require every student to study a foreign language, beginning in early elementary school when they have a better chance of becoming fluent. The fact that we are lucky enough to have been born speaking the international lingua franca is no excuse for willful ignorance of other languages and cultures. Also, studying a foreign language helps students better understand their own language and culture.
• OMG, we had some seriously crappy and generally unhealthy school lunches compared to Korean schools. Work on it.

What Korean schools can learn from American schools:

• Have professional cleaners come in at least a couple of times per semester. Honestly, the kids just don’t cut it in the long run.
• Never require uniforms that consist of plaid pants and striped shirts/jackets. It’s just not right.
• Encourage your students to question authority, find their own answers and problem-solve. (This can be done in a respectful and productive manner. We just have to teach them how.) Creative, free-thinking adults are much more beneficial to society than memorization robots.
• 14 hours of school per day, plus occasional Saturdays, is just too much. Give them time to be children (and pre-teens, and teenagers). That way they’ll be ready to actually be adults when the time comes.
• I’m pretty sure it actually takes less energy to heat/cool a room and then keep it at that temperature than it does to constantly turn the heat/air conditioning on and off all day. It also helps to keep the temperature in the hallways regulated as well, so there’s not a blast of cold/hot air to fight every time a student opens the classroom door (which is very often). Even if all that’s not true, it most certainly does not help to have the windows open while you’re running said heat/air conditioning.
• Students who are not sweating or freezing tend to pay attention better during their lessons. And teachers teach better. And we all think better.

I'm leaving on a jet plane.....

...but I do know when I'll be back again!

My exploratory committee has informed me that I have enough support to secure another contract with EPIK, and I have decided to embrace that opportunity. In order to win over the hearts and minds of the people, I will be home for a 3-week visit in August before coming back to start my new contract/finish out this school year. (Korea runs on a calendar school year, so summer break is really mid-year.) The Caity Teacher Non-Korean U.S. Tour will be making stops in and around Northeast Tennessee, Washington, DC and Maryland's eastern shore. Please see Facebook for dates and times of public appearances. Campaign donations will be accepted in the form of Mexican food, nice cheese and alcoholic beverages. (And of course, actual money. Plane tickets to the U.S. in August are no joke, y'all!)

Now, you might be thinking to yourself, "Why should I support this woman? She's really been letting me down when it comes to regular blog posts recently." Well, I have heard your voices and this is what I have to say: I've been really busy preparing myself to be the best Native Englishee Teacher, and the best person, that I can be. Here's what I've accomplished in the past month or so:

• I planned and executed what I firmly believe was a successful open class. Feedback was positive from all arenas: Office of Education representative, Korean teachers and other native teachers. Well, I'm kind of guessing that the feedback was positive from Korean teachers because, though they can all presumably speak English, they of course gave their feedback in Korean. For 15 minutes each, followed by a 2-sentence translation from my co-teacher. Not sure what got left out, but at this point I don't really care.
• I paid a diplomatic visit to the Demilitarized Zone and subsequently drafted a motion to have all South Korean breweries taken over by North Korean brewers. Daily life might generally suck for North Koreans, but at least they have decent beer to knock back after a hard day at their state-sponsored jobs. I believe that this privilege should be extended to all citizens of the Korean peninsula. Good, affordable beer is a basic human right, and Cass and Hite just don't cut it.
• I attended two Native Englishee Teacher retreats at Myeongsasimri Beach in Wando. We discussed superior teaching strategies, how to keep the peace within our borders, and ways to improve and expand our territories....sort of.
• I conducted historical research in the city of Gyeongju, learning about leadership from the Great Shilla Kings.
• I attended a summit of EPIK teachers in Boseong, inspected some green tea fields for their efficiency, and acted as a mediator in the disputes between local crabs and mudskippers.
• I signed my new contract and successfully navigated the bureaucracy of the Gwangju Immigration Office on my own. The strange thing is, it was significantly more difficult to get the required drug test done at the hospital than it was to navigate the red tape of visa renewal. In fact, the immigration office was a remarkably timely and not-unpleasant experience. Kudos, Korea.
• I kicked off the season of goodbye parties for those brave and honorable folks who have served their schools well and are now returning to their respective homes. They will be greatly missed.
• I attended an international celebration of American Independence Day, forging lasting bonds with representatives from England, Ireland, Canada and South Africa, and introducing them to the American wonders of deviled eggs and apple pie.
• I completed my second Korean language course, thus allowing me to awkwardly communicate with Koreans in a slightly more effective way. We shall see on Tuesday whether or not I will get official credit for this (i.e. whether or not I passed the damn final exam).

As you can see, I have been working diligently to become the best that I can be. I hope that you will be able to overlook my blogging delinquency, and throw your support behind me once again!

In a future post, I will explain in detail my positions on certain key issues related to English education in Korea. In the mean time, may God bless the pilots who will be flying me home.

Deskwarming and Microsoft Paint

Koreans are magnetically attracted to foreigners. Physically, not metaphorically.

This happens consistently.

International Women's Day

Today is International Women’s Day. I’d only vaguely known, and never really thought, about this day while living in the States, where Mother’s Day is the main women-related holiday.

For reference among my American readers, International Women’s Day is like a combination of Mother’s Day and Valentine’s Day, when appreciation is expressed for women and our roles in society, and our social progress is celebrated. It began as a socialist holiday, but has lost its political meaning in many countries and is still celebrated today with little regard for its potentially controversial origins. Just goes to show there are some ideas that are good no matter who puts them forth. Different countries usually have different themes for each year. This year’s United Nations/global theme is “Women and men united to end violence against women and girls”. You can read U.N. Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon’s Women’s Day address here.

It’s interesting to hear such words coming from a Korean, particularly given the plight of women in Korea despite its status as a modernized country. (Yes, I know he was saying them as U.N. Secretary-General and not as a representative of Korean society. Bear with me.) While no country – including the U.S. – is a stranger to violence against women, I’d not come face to face with this fact before moving here. I have found, from conversations with foreigners and Koreans as well as personal observation, that domestic violence in Korea is disturbingly commonplace.

One Saturday afternoon, my usual brunch-making routine was interrupted by a couple yelling at each other in the hallway. I was annoyed, but didn’t think too much of it, as at that point the woman was certainly holding her own. However, once the couple went into their apartment at the end of the hall, the yelling turned to desperate screaming from the woman and absolute rage from the man. In a flash of righteous indignation, I threw on my coat, shoved on my shoes and stormed down the hallway to do something about it. About a foot from the door, my courage evaporated as I heard the woman pounding on the door, continuing to scream as though her life were in danger, trying to get out. Standing so close and yet so far away, I had never felt so helpless in my life. What exactly was I going to do? My three sentences of Korean were not going to help in this situation – there was no way I could make myself understood. I was just as likely to make the situation worse as to help, and I had absolutely no means of defense if the man’s anger encompassed me and my intrusion. So I stood in the hallway, momentarily paralyzed, trembling with my heart pounding in my ears, before running back into my own apartment to call the police. But the police don’t speak English, either. So I just stood there, listening, hoping the woman would make it through all right, and feeling like a coward and a traitor to womankind.

I still feel guilty for not pounding on the door anyway. Much can be communicated by tone of voice. I later spoke to one of my co-teachers about the situation, and she told me that next time I could call her and she would call the police for me. Fortunately there has been no “next time” (at least none that I’ve heard), but I still wonder whether the police would even do anything about it. Addressing domestic violence is a tricky thing, particularly in a society that is still very patriarchal and tolerant of violence in everyday life. Several of my friends here have told me they’ve heard similar rows from their neighbors, and no one seems to have come up with a good solution. I am told that there are services for women who are victims of domestic abuse, but they must have a reference from the police. That means something really bad has to happen that somehow gets the attention of a Korean-speaking neighbor or friend, and the abuser must almost literally be caught in the act.

Evidence of how normalized domestic violence is in Korea slapped me straight in the face during my winter camp. I was a bad teacher and didn’t fully preview all of the music videos I was showing during a lesson on how to discuss preferences and tastes in music. The first one, a K-pop video, featured a scene in which the singer is hit several times by her boyfriend. (You can watch the video and see how she gets her revenge here.) Before beginning the intended discussion, I asked the girls in the class what they should do if a man ever hit them. Now, these were bright students; that’s why they were in my camp. I know they understood the words of what I was asking. But the concept just didn’t compute.
“You should break up with him, and maybe call the police!” I told them.
Blank stares. Why would they do that? In Korea, being in a relationship is of utmost importance. What’re a few knocks to be endured once in a while?

I have mixed feelings about special laws and protections for women. Ideally, these would not be necessary, and in a way I feel that putting women in a special category permanently makes us more vulnerable in the eyes of society and negates the equality that the measures themselves are striving for. But I have now been about as close as I ever want to be with the fact that, (almost) no matter what, a man will always be stronger than me. What can I do to defend myself? And abuse is never just about the physical violence. The accompanying power-play of emotional entrapment makes it extremely difficult for women to get out of abusive situations. The strength of men over women also applies in the halls of power in business, politics and religion. While I would rather ignore it or laugh it off, women are still marginalized and kept out, to some extent, of many of the real positions and gatherings of power in my own beloved and supposedly forward-thinking, equal-rights touting city – the one that should be a shining beckon of true freedom and equality for all the world to see. Are these initiatives promoting the defense and uplifting of women necessary to get us over what seems to be an ever-rising mountain ahead of true equality? Will we ever see the other side? And if so, will we have a need for Women’s Day at all?

A cuisine without cheese

Happy Tuesday! Also know as Lesson Planning Fail Day #2. Seriously, if anyone has seen my motivation frolicking past their window, please net it and return it to me ASAP. This is getting bad.

So today, rather than getting a jump on next semester, I’ve been compiling my thoughts on food in Korea (among other activities that might fall into the procrastination category). The first question to tackle was where to start. I can’t possibly cover it all, so you’ll just get a dose of what I’ve eaten (or just observed) over my time here so far.

First, we’ll start with some basic facts about Korean food and eating customs.

• Koreans eat for health rather than taste. Well, maybe they would say they also eat for taste, but Koreans’ taste has been developed over thousands of years to favor things that are at least believed to be good for you. Foods are recommended based on how they will benefit your health rather than how delicious they are. So when I’m eating too much of that fried vegetable pancake, I’m told that “Caity, there are more nutritious things on the table.” That’s why they’re all so thin.
• Kimchi and rice with every meal. Kimchi is one of the numerous little vegetable side dishes that come with every Korean meal. But, unlike the other banchan, kimchi possesses miraculous superpowers that may not just be limited to the health arena. Not long after my arrival in Korea, there was a cabbage shortage that was considered a national crisis. That’s how seriously they take their kimchi here. And no meal is complete without rice. If you haven’t eaten rice yet, your meal is not finished. There will be at least one more course, so save room. There’s also usually soup with every meal, which helps with the no-water thing.
• Eating is a communal activity. Always. It is very rare to see Koreans do anything alone, most of all eating. If you have a snack, you share it. Relationships are built over food (and drink), and the quickest way for a native English teacher to ruin his or her relationship with a co-teacher is to not partake in lunch or snack time with everyone else. Everything is always served family style, so everyone eats the same thing. The question is not “Where shall we go for lunch?” but “What shall we eat for lunch?” This dictates where you shall go, as the majority of restaurants (with the exception of the Kimbap Nara and its counterparts) only serve one thing. This fact is also the main reason that waygooks frequently find themselves in tough spots – you’re expected to eat what everyone else is eating, or risk insulting every Korean in the entire restaurant.
• Manners. Rice goes on the left. Rice that is set to the right is reserved for the dead. Naturally I was eating somebody’s ancestor’s rice for at least a month at lunch before someone clued me in to this one. Never finish the side dishes unless you intend to eat more, as this means that you weren’t given enough to eat, and your dish will keep getting refilled. No Clean Plate Club here. Never pour your own drink, and always hold your glass with both hands as someone pours for you. When drinking with elders (that’s anyone who’s at all older than you), turn your head away as you drink. Offer to refill your elder’s drink when their glass is empty, and do so with both hands.
• Creativity. Even after six months, I continue to be surprised by things that are set on the table in front of me. Koreans eat things it would never even occur to Westerners to eat. Some of this may have been born of necessity in years past, but I have no idea why some of these foods persist in the modern Korean diet. Examples: leaves that belong on trees rather than in my salad, bugs in various stages of their life cycles, fish that are so tiny they must be eaten whole and in piles (how do they even make nets small enough to catch those things??)

So, in that context, here are some things about Korean cuisine that stand out in my mind:

• Seafood. Koreans eat a TON of seafood, and it’s incredibly cheap compared to Western prices. This is a peninsular nation, and they will eat anything with which Poseidon doth bless their nets (or whoever the traditional Korean sea-god is). The thing is, lover of seafood that I am, it is still my opinion that there are things in the sea that just aren’t meant to be eaten. Sometimes it seems that someone just scraped the bottom of the sea with a giant plastic bucket and dumped it all into my soup. Koreans are also loathe to remove the bones from their fish, a fact that causes me more trouble than anything else about eating in this country (*gag*).
• Love affair with seaweed. Seafood is not limited to creatures. I have seen more varieties of seaweed sold on the street than I even knew existed before I got here. Recently I was introduced to seaweed-flavored jellies. No sugar - they're not like candy – just an extra-firm, rectangular jelly with seaweed flavor in it. I rather resent them for their deceptively candy-like packaging. This came right after the seaweed soup we had for lunch that contained a variety of seaweed which strongly resembled the stringy algae one finds floating on a small, stagnant pond. Lukewarm pond water with little rice balls floating in it. It didn't taste too bad, so I just tried not to look at it. I’ve actually become a pretty big fan of other varieties of seaweed soup, as well as kim.
• Obsession with fresh food. Koreans like everything to be as fresh as it can possibly be. Frozen and prepackaged foods are looked down upon as extremely unhealthy. Yes, this is reminiscent of Western attitudes, but Koreans actually follow through on these views. Fish are bought from squirming buckets-full on the street and vegetables with dirt still clinging to them. Many dishes are brought to the table uncooked, and you get to do the grilling/boiling yourself, just so you know it’s really, really fresh. The most infamous of the super-fresh foods is raw octopus. No, not just raw, but still squirming on the plate. You might think that after a while, when the tentacle pieces have stopped moving, it might be safe to eat. But as soon as you touch that slimy mass with your chopsticks, it starts writhing all over again. And detaching the suckers from the plate is a challenge all to itself. This is usually served as part of a larger raw seafood meal including everything from white fish to as-yet-unidentified shellfish.
• Regular meat is as expensive as seafood is cheap. This makes sense, given that Korea has little, um, ranchable land (add that to your dictionaries). However, some of the ways they work around this – well, one way in particular – is disturbing and puzzling to the average American: Spam. Now, I’m sure this lovely Spam eating trend probably started around the time of the Korean War (see #5 here for a similar story), but unlike Guam, Korea most definitely has a native cuisine to embrace. They also, at least these days, have plenty of money to spend on things other than meat product. So why, in Korea, does Spam come in gift sets and cost at least twice what it does in the U.S.? Perhaps some insight can be gained from #1 in the previously mentioned article, but I’m not completely convinced.
• The almighty sweet potato. Forget yams, there are more kinds of sweet potato than I could have ever imagined, and they are all eaten with gusto here in Korea. They also turn up in rather unexpected places, like on pizza, in cakes and in milkshakes and lattes.

Given all of these, um, challenging foods, the majority of which I have eaten at some point, it’s a miracle that I’ve only had a couple of meals that I’ve really had to choke down (both of which involved fish bones). This is in stark contrast to the experiences of many of my friends here, so perhaps I’ve just been lucky. And yes, there are many foods here that I genuinely enjoy, but they'd make for a rather boring blog post, now wouldn't they? All things considered, when I get back to the States, I doubt I’ll be rabidly tracking down Korean food. Some bean fish, cinnamon pancakes or kimchi might be nice once in a while for nostalgia’s sake, but you won’t see me hanging out in the Korean groceries of McLean or Centerville sniffing out the best dried squid to go with my beer and peanuts. You might find me at Spa World, though – a Korean institution I am quite glad I won’t have to leave behind.

Not all of Asia is like Korea

I know you want to read about my trip to Southeast Asia, but I just have to share this first. I am a frequenter of coffee shops, mainly because I am incapable of getting work done in my own apartment. I’m in one right now, in fact. Coffee shops in Korea, it seems, all own the same collection of jazz tunes by this one female vocalist. But these are no ordinary jazz tunes – no “Blue Skies”, no “La Vie en Rose”, no “Take the A Train”. Instead, we have smooth, slightly upbeat remakes of pop tunes, new and old, that were never, ever meant to be set to a jazz beat. Some examples: the theme from The NeverEnding Story, U2’s “With or Without You”, “Barbie Girl”, the list goes on. At the moment, I have been spared the vocalist and am being treated to a jazz piano version of “Pomp & Circumstance”. I practically expect to hear a velvety voice crooning the lyrics to “Baby Got Back” in the next shop I go into.

So, to the truly Korean soundtrack of bastardized tunes, I shall now tell you about my vacation (patience pays off, dear readers). In summary, I began my trip by meeting my friend and fellow Englishee teacher Laura, and her friend Katie who flew in from England, in Phuket, Thailand. Thank God I was only there for one night; that place is a westernized black hole of entitled tourists. We then took a bus and ferry to Koh Phangan, a charming little Island in the Gulf of Thailand. We spent several days lying on a beach of fine, white sand next to a turquoise sea with calm waters at exactly the right temperature for cooling off without giving a cold jolt to the nether-regions. We spent our last night at the famous full moon party on Haad Rin (one of the many beaches on the Island), but don’t worry folks, my compatriots became ill after just one vodka-and-cheap-grape-soda bucket and we never even made it up to Mellow Mountain. The most tricked-out thing going on in our trio was the horrendous neon paint job on my face. After that, we flew to Bangkok where we did a walking tour of Chinatown before Katie and Laura flew back to their respective winter wonderlands. I spent the next couple of days tooling around Bangkok on my own, which was a lot more fun than it sounds. Bangkok is remarkably easy to get around on public transport and is filled with friendly people and mind-blowingly cheap, tasty food. And temples and markets and great places for people watching.

I then hopped on a flight to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, where I met Paul. Since we were both flying Air Asia (me on my way back to Korea, him on his way to Ireland to visit the family), a point-to-point carrier with its main hub in KL, this was an easy, logical spot to see together, if not on the top of either of our lists of world traveling destinations. Compared to Bangkok, KL is a nightmare to get around, but we stayed in fairly convenient locations, so that helped tremendously. We tried two new fruits every day; had Malay food, Moroccan food, Spanish tapas, proper English tea, Indian food and Chinese food; visited the Batu caves, the Petronas Towers, the aquarium, the bird park, the Chinatown market, Little India, the national mosque, the national museum and Merdeka Square. Now you can click over to my Picasa album and check out the photos and get a bit more info on what I did and saw.

One of the main things I learned in my travels is which differences I’ve observed/experienced here that are just the Asian way, and which ones are Korean quirks.

Asian things: squatties; sink-hose “showers”; omnipresent cacophony of mostly unpleasant smells; lack of personal space concept (though Koreans are way worse about this than Thais or Malaysians); enthusiasm for food coupled with an illogically high metabolism; communal (“family style”) eating customs; fondness for strong fishy flavors; use of a wide array of brooms to sweep anything, everything and everywhere; love of super-sparkly, over-decorated items

Korean quirks: ajumas and their elbows; acute social distress in the presence of foreigners; trustworthiness and general good will towards others; absolute, every day, young to old obsession with fashion; a sweet tooth that even extends to things like garlic bread (this may just be a misunderstanding of the concept of baked goods); the ability to take almost anything from almost anywhere in the world and somehow make it Korean (please refer to the previously mentioned frosted garlic bread); lack of trash bins in public places; army of ajumas with tongs picking up the results of the immediately preceding item in this list

To their credit, Koreans are much better at following through on environmental concerns than people in Thailand and Malaysia. Sure, they don’t have the natural resources (jungle/rainforest) to exploit that Malaysia and Thailand do, but they are far more conscientious about recycling and the efficiency of their vehicles. There are ads plastered all over Thailand and Malaysia encouraging citizens to recycle and use less water, but the cars, trucks and buses spout noxious fumes the intensity of which I’ve never seen before. I’m not sure whether it was actually the pollution or the fact that I was all of a sudden sweaty all the time when I had become accustomed to winter weather, or perhaps a combination of the two, but my skin – and I don’t just mean my face - freaked out after just a day in Bangkok. It’s only now even considering the concept of clearing up. Fortunately my lungs got along just fine, so maybe the amount of pollution got blown out of proportion in my smog-loathing mind (or I just got lucky).

The other major difference that I noticed is that Malaysia (or at least KL) and Thailand are much more Westerner-friendly – English is almost universally spoken to at least some degree (and the locals aren’t terrified to speak to you); Western stores, restaurant chains and food are all much more prevalent; it’s difficult to find a sign that doesn’t have an (almost always correct) English translation along with the local language; and you could, with relatively little effort, completely isolate yourself from the local culture and live in a bubble of Western-ness. This is not at all possible in Korea. When you are in Korea, unless you are extremely wealthy and never leave Seoul, you know you are in Korea. There’s just no escaping it.

And there’s no escaping the fact that I am now back in wintry Korea without my boyfriend for three weeks (whine, moan, complain). Fortunately I don’t have to desk warm, which means I’ll only have to spend three days in school this entire month. These days are for grade 3 graduation, though I have no idea how in the world a graduation ceremony requires three days. In the mean time, I’ll be keeping myself busy with lesson planning for next semester, catching up on the reading I’ve wanted to do, and attempting to lose the weight I’ve gained over the past semester (due in no small part to all of the Thai and other food I consumed over my travels), and getting my ass back in shape.

So happy Lunar New Year, my dears. Stay warm and feel free to send over any food you have that tastes really good but will miraculously melt away all of my fat.

This post is NOT about New Year's resolutions.

Christmas Day has come and gone, and New Year’s, and plenty of Caity Teacher’s Daily Korean Adventures™. The best and brightest (or maybe just the ones that come to mind at the moment) shall be recorded herein.

Best Christmas gift EVER

For Christmas the group of friends affectionately known as the Lenny Crew put together an admirable potluck, which we ate using our host’s bed platform as a large table (we are resourceful people), sitting on the floor in classic Korean fashion. The pumpkin pies (ingredients sent by the Jacobs American Food Goods Acquisition Service in Kingsport, Tenn.), complete with real whipped cream, were a big hit. I was also introduced to the European Christmas desserts known as mince pies with custard and Christmas pudding. The mince pies are decidedly not worth the calories, but the Christmas pudding was rather nice (especially smothered in whipped cream, as most things are). The winning ugly Christmas sweater was a neon-green & black snowflake fleece, and the winning Secret Santa gift was a holographic poster of Jesus arm-wrestling Satan. And I got cheese! The metaphoric angel on top of the non-existent tree was the snow that fell while we were eating dinner, covering the city in a peaceful white dusting, which we promptly ruined with our tipsily-made tracks heading toward the bar. Yes, the bars are open here on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day – it is a couples’ holiday here, remember?

Paul and I headed to Seoul for New Year’s weekend, expecting to be followed by several of the Lennies, but ended up being ditched at the last minute. But that was their loss (Seriously. Lennies). We literally rang in 2011 outside City Hall, where an enormous Buddhist bell was struck at midnight. The bell ringing was preceded by cheesy Korean musical performances (e.g. Seasons of Love in Korean – yes, I was a RENT-head back in the day, so I loved it) and followed by a few performances of more traditional Korean musical arts. The crowds weren’t nearly as bad as we were expecting, as New Year’s by the solar calendar isn’t nearly as big a deal as Lunar New Year on this side of the world. Temperatures were well below freezing the entire weekend, especially on NYE. After nimbly avoiding the storm of roman candles in the streets and the human maze created by lines of way more policeman than could possibly have been necessary, we landed ourselves in a McDonald’s to warm up. Then we decided to go to a few bars, but near where we were staying so we wouldn’t have as far to go when we were done. Well, maybe just one bar. Ok, so we just got to our subway stop and decided to go to bed. We’re not old people! It’s just that kind of cold can really get to you after a while….

Feet fish

We did plenty of touristy things that wore us out, too. We toured the ChangDeokGung Palace, where members of the Korean royal family lived until 1989. That means there are still easily traceable living descendents of Korean monarchs. How weird must that be – to be living among the common people, knowing that your ancestors lived in a palace and ruled the country? And how much crap must said descendents have taken at school when they were kids? Must be like being the principal’s kid, only worse. Later, and after much searching, we finally found some doctor fish to spruce up our tired and beleaguered feet. What in the world are doctor fish? This is a perfectly legitimate and oft-uttered question. Doctor fish, also known (maybe just to me) as feet fish, are little fishies that eat only dead skin. People in Korea keep them in small pools in special cafes, where they freak out adventurous Westerners looking for a “cultural experience”. They also tickle quite a bit. I had the entire coffee-sipping, toast-munching café full of Koreans staring at me with all of my shrieking and laughing, and I was honestly trying to keep it down. I don’t think my feet were any smoother afterwards, but it certainly was an experience. On New Year’s Day we managed to find some sauerkraut at an Austrian restaurant (good luck for all!), and I even made it to an honest-to-goodness, English speaking, Lutheran church on Sunday. 2011 ought to be a good year; I’ve certainly started it out right.

With the help of a good friend and her glorified toaster oven, I baked my first (and possibly only) cake in Korea (from scratch!) for Paul’s birthday the following week. It was a huge hit, as real cakes, like cake mixes, are not to be found down here in the armpit of Korea. Winter camp started last Monday and has been fantastic. They’re all good kids with fairly high levels of English, the classes themselves are pretty low-key, I have a fantastic Korean teacher helping me out, and we get to have snacks during movie time every day! Planning the camp was plenty of work up front, but I’m pretty much sailing through now. Only two days left!

On Saturday I’m heading to Thailand and Malaysia for my allotted winter vacation days. I am eagerly anticipating the summer weather with every fiber of my frozen being. The difference between the cold here and the cold back home is not as much that it’s below freezing and snowy the majority of the time, but more that back home, when you go inside, it’s actually warm. Anywhere you go indoors. It’s pretty much a given. Here, not so much. There are days that I do not feel truly warm until I get home, crank up the heat and flatten myself against my ondol floor like a squirrel licking a brick in a walkway at Elon University. I also really miss having a bathtub. A hot bath would be an excellent way to thaw out after an entire day spent wrapped in my poufy coat, trying to warm my icy fingers and toes. I guess I could go sit in a jimjilbang, but the other patrons would likely disapprove of my wine, tea candles and book, and there’s no way I could afford enough bath salts to make the entire communal bath smell of lavender. So, the ondol and I are great friends.

Also in recent days, my attention has turned from crazies in North Korea to crazies back home. It seems that, periodically, the U.S. must be challenged by the realization of some of our deepest fears. Our response to this tragedy, our following discourse, the choices and changes we make together as a country and as a community, will be telling of who we have become. We had a chance to follow the path of compassion and courage after September 11, 2001. In my opinion, we chose a different road. I pray that, this time, we live up to the high ideals on which our country was founded – those of respect for individuals and individual liberties alike – rather than fear and scapegoating. May love and peace prevail, at home and abroad.

Two posts in one day!

I know, I know, but try to stay in your seat. I figure you’ve all got extra time on your hands with the Christmas/New Year’s vacation and all, so here’s some extra reading material.

There are few good things about not being home for Christmas, but one of them is that I don’t have to fight the traffic barreling down I-81, cowering in my tiny Civic between ever-present pairs of 18-wheelers. Admittedly, crossing the road in front of the Home Plus to get to the Christmas party that I am attending may well be a harrowing experience, as is crossing any road in Korea (never assume you have the right of way as a pedestrian), but that should only take 5-10 minutes as opposed to 7+ hours.

Christmas cheer at the Nutcracker

Christmas in Korea, while it is commonly observed, is not nearly the huge holiday that it is in the West. It’s a religious holiday for those who are religious, but the secular angle is not nearly as played up as it is back home. Mostly, Christmas Eve is like Valentines Day – a big date night when you hope it snows not because you’re dreaming of a white Christmas, but because the first snow of the year in Korea is thought to bring new love with it. So, in order to fill the void of family and warm fuzzies, we waygooks had to make our own Christmas cheer. For me, these activities included making 12 dozen Jack-Daniels-because-I-couldn’t-find-bourbon balls with the help of a green but promising Irish baker; helping to raise 670k won for the family of a migrant worker through a caroling session downtown (ok, so raising money was just gravy – I love caroling, especially with jingly antlers!); and attending a very Korean performance of the Nutcracker by the Gwangju city ballet company. The sentimentality of simply attending the Nutcracker at Christmas – and the fun of introducing the uninitiated to such a ritual – were quite enjoyable. However, the meat on a stick at concessions, what looked for all the world to me like a giant Tigger on stage during the party scene, the appearance of a tie-dyed flag and countless other features of the performance that were just slightly off all served to remind me approximately every 5 minutes that I was, in fact, still in Korea, Tchaikovsky or no. In anticipation of this, my group decided to class it up. Instead of purchasing an overpriced cup of mulled wine at intermission (there was none to be had anyway), we snuck in homemade eggnog and noshed on Christmas cookies during the performance. As a former usher, I was mortified at first, but since the Korean ballet is apparently an usher-less affair, I quickly relaxed.

In non-Christmas-related news, I enjoyed a nice day trip with……

…..Ok, I don’t know why I’ve danced around the subject for so long, especially since a good number of you probably already know that I now have a boyfriend. [Insert sigh of relief from the entire Korean community. Another case of the singles, cured!] As do all of my students, who have reported back to my co-teachers that Caity Teacher’s boyfriend (whom they’ve seen with me on the street) is handsome and that, therefore, they approve. His name is Paul; he’s from Ireland; and yes, he’s very handsome. Now you officially know and I can refer to him by his name and quit coming up with ways to work around his existence when I write my posts.

So, I enjoyed a nice outing to Namwon with some of Paul’s high school students a few Saturdays back. A group of them attend school on scholarship and live at the school like boarding students. Paul occasionally takes them on day trips to practice their English and expand their knowledge of their own country. (Koreans travel surprisingly little around Korea, despite its small size. I’m pretty sure I’ve already seen more of the country than a large portion of the teachers who’ve lived here their entire lives.) He gets to bring other Native English Teachers with him as co-chaperons, and we all end up with a bit more cash in our pockets and a bit more sight-seeing under our belts. Namwon is a village known as the setting of the famous love story of Chunhyangga. In a nutshell: Nobleman and woman of low birth fall in love and are secretly married; nobleman is transferred to Seoul; woman is taken as a wife by the mayor of Namwon but remains loyal to the nobleman; nobleman, having gained more power, returns to claim the woman and publicly takes her back to Seoul as his wife. A much nicer ending than Romeo & Juliet. We visited two lovely sets of gardens with love, of course, as their theme. Appropriately, this was the first time that any of Paul’s students had seen me, so I was also part of the love-themed entertainment. They were damn good students, though, and even the girls who have crushes on Paul caved and said nice things to or about me by the end of the day.

That trip began what I shall refer to as Caity Teacher’s Grand Week of Korean Cultural Experiences (Part I, as I hope there will be more to come). Final exams meant that classes were over after lunchtime, so the week began with a trip to a grade 2 teacher’s house outside the city. I had never been in any Korean home, but I understand that the vast majority of people in the cities, including fairly well-off and well-established families, live in apartments. So it was also a treat for the other teachers to have a change of scenery. We had tea and snacks, complete with three different kinds of persimmons – green, ripe and dried, all remarkably different in taste and texture. I spent about 3 hours sitting on the floor, picking out the occasional word that I knew from the lively Korean conversation going on around me, and enjoying the fruits of the special chestnut-roasting drawer in the wood stove that was heating the pipes under the floor. My legs were asleep and my ass was sore, but surely I’ll never get used to it without practice. The home itself is newly built, covered in what looked to me like stucco (very unusual in Korea), and models a strange fusion of West Coast USA-Spanish Mission and Asian styles. In true Korean fashion, there was next to no furniture except for cushions and low tables (they always sit on the floor), and the kitchen had no oven. Now I understand why my apartment came so sparsely furnished. On another afternoon, we had a teachers’ activity in which we made our own natural moisture cream while being lectured on the benefits of aromatherapy and how it’s replacing doctors in developed countries (??).

You may have wondered to yourself in the above paragraph just how much Korean I can understand these days. Well, folks, I can understand as much as a person who has diligently studied (ha!) for 48 hours worth of Korean language course credit at the prestigious Chonnam National University. I can now say many useful things, such as고양이가 어디에 있어요?(Where is the cat?) and 앤나씨 도서관사에 공부 하고 있어요. (Anna is studying at the library.) We wrapped up last night, and presented our course instructor (who is probably the awesomest Korean teacher EVER) with this little gem as a Christmas/thank you gift. This was honestly one of the most difficult subjects I have ever studied, probably not any less so because I haven’t taken a real class in 5 years. But I attended every session, I actually passed, and I am quite proud of me.

And in my final bow to Korean culture this month, I caved under the pressure to wear a coat indoors. In my Western mind, coats are for outdoors, hallways should be heated, and windows should NEVER be opened in the winter. When the other teachers asked me if I was cold and why I didn’t wear a coat, I firmly told them that where I come from, our mothers make us take off our coats when we come inside. But after weeks of seeing my breath in the restroom, scurrying down the frigid hallways between my classroom and the office, and enduring frozen fingers and toes while an arctic wind blasts through the windows at cleaning time (“Air must be presh-ee!”), I decided that it might be better to walk around the school in my down coat looking like the Michelin Man. At least my core is now warm, if not my hands and feet.

For those of you still worried, I have one more thing to say: Not surprisingly, Kim Jong-Crazy's bark is worse than his bite.

That’s it; that’s all I’ve got to say this time. Merry (or Happy) Christmas to all! I wonder if the Land of Morning Calm is still calm on Christmas morning?

Zen and the Art of Early Awakening

About 23% of South Koreans are Buddhists, which is slightly less than the number of Christians. Outside Confucianism, Buddhism has had the strongest influence on Korea’s historical culture, and many of the Koreans I’ve met here have urged me to do a temple stay as an important part of getting the full cultural experience of Korea. I chose Seonunsa for my first experience. Mainly because it has a website in English.

Seonunsa is a 6th century temple located in Gochang County, about an hour and a half bus ride from Gwangju. It focuses on Korean Seon (Zen) practice. While most of the temple structures were burned during a 16th century Japanese invasion, some of the original beams are still incorporated into the main temple, or Golden Hall. I felt a sense of awe standing in the courtyard, contemplating the temple history, much like what I experienced standing among the 2,500-year-old ruins in Greece. The historical sites that we visit in the U.S. are over 2,000 years younger than some of the buildings still preserved in the rest of the world – a fact that really puts our own brief history into perspective.

Due to a reservation mix-up/schedule change at the temple (dyamic Korea!), there was no formal Temple Stay program this past weekend. Instead, a huge celebration was being held for the re-dedication of one of the temple buildings. Someone important was coming to pray some important prayer that would make the temple building super-important. At least, that’s as good an understanding as I got of the situation. Meaning that, aside from meals and prayer services, we were free to do whatever we liked within the temple grounds.

We arrived a bit late (another mix-up, this time with buses), changed into our “training uniforms” (orange jumpsuits similar to those of prison inmates in the US) and received a hurried tour of the temple grounds. Meals are all vegetarian (I’m sure this has something to do with a belief in reincarnation), and not a grain of food is wasted. After dinner came what was, in my music-loving opinion, the highlight of our stay. A set of enormous instruments, suspended inside a brightly painted shelter, awaits the prelude of the morning and evening prayer services. They are meant to call out to all of the souls of the universe, in whatever form they currently dwell, to follow the way of Buddha. First, the dharma drum is played to save all living beings on land, including human beings. The pounding takes such force that several monks swap out during the call to relieve each other. Next, the hollow inside of the wooden fish is played by a monk with two sticks, meant to save all living creatures in the sea. The clacking sound of the fish and the metallic sound of the next instrument, a cloud-shaped gong, are more akin to sounds that a percussionist might elicit from items on a construction site than in a temple complex, but fortunately these two instruments are played for the least amount of time. Finally, the brahma bell – most impressive of all of these instruments – is struck with what looks like a large log strung up with rope on both ends. Anna and I were invited to help ring the bell, which calls out to souls in hell. Standing so close, the sound vibrated in the very core of my being, and the reverberations seemed to block out all other sounds on Earth. I can easily see why it is said that the sound of the brahma bell can release hell-bound souls from their suffering. It was an effort to pull myself away before the 33 chimes were finished, but we had to move to evening prayers in the Golden Hall.

Prayers consist of the chiming of yet another bell (though much smaller and less impressive), chanting a prescribed set of Buddha’s teachings, and bowing and prostrations. Fortunately, everyone gets a large red cushion to kneel on, or my knees wouldn’t have made it on the ancient wooden floor. Offerings of beautifully arranged fruits and flowers adorn the temple, and incense thickens the air. We followed the lead of the monks and other worshipers in the temple, not comprehending much intellectually, but understanding enough of the spirit of the ceremony: I am equal with all beings of the universe. What I cultivate in my mind and heart, I will become. I want to follow the way of compassion and veneration for all life, and to help all beings on Earth.

Lights out was at 9pm, in anticipation of the pre-dawn wakeup call to morning prayers. We slept on layers of blankets on an ondol in a guesthouse, so my unaccustomed body was more ready than usual to get up when some sort of wooden drum began to beat at about 4:15am. (I know I’ve said that my bed is as hard as sleeping on the floor. Turns out this isn’t quite true.) Morning prayers followed the same format as the evening service, then we returned to our warm floor for “self practice” (a.k.a. another hour of sleep before breakfast).

When the sun finally joined us for the day, visitors began pouring onto the temple grounds for the re-dedication ceremony. As if the orange pajamas didn’t make us stand out enough (everyone else is dwelling in the temple complex dresses in gray), we were the only waygooks at the temple. This made us the immediate subject of interest of no less than four Koreans laden with fancy photographic equipment, eager to get the perfect temple shot. Apparently having a couple of mildly confused foreigners in your frame fits the bill. We even got some roasted chestnuts out of the deal, along with the standard “Beautiful!” compliments. Not understanding much of the ceremony, we went for a walk in the surrounding forest amid the striking fall colors of the maples and ginkgos (where our orange blended in quite nicely). Upon returning to the temple, we took some green tea (grown at the temple, no less!) with a monk. Sadly, it was a rather silent few cups of tea, as the monk spoke no English and our fledgling Korean doesn’t include enlightenment vocabulary. Much to our surprise, while we were sitting there, we saw another monk walk by wearing toe socks, while yet another whipped out a cell phone. What does a monk send text messages about? Feeling enlightened 2day. MayB its just the spicy tofu frm brkfast? Apparently monks shun beds but not modern technology.

Having completed this, shall we say cursory, temple stay, I see far more of the Confucian influence in modern-day Korea than Buddhist influence. I suppose there aren’t any Confucian temples that I could visit, though, and the Buddhist temples throughout the country are living museums preserving an important and beautiful part of Korean history. I have a slightly better understanding of Buddhism in Korea than I had after seeing Keumsan, but there are still many, many more questions to be answered. I plan to return to Seonunsa for a proper temple stay program, hopefully sometime soon.

ShinGwang School Festival: A Photo/Video Essay

Back home, we have field day and science fairs. We hop around in sacks and throw water balloons; show off large models of molecules and frothing volcanoes. Given the American stereotype of Asians, you'd think they'd be all into the science fair thing, displaying their Ph.D.-level projects on long, neat tables, waiting with their spectacles and clipboards, ready to explain their Latest Stroke of Genius (patent pending) to the know-nothing waygook English teacher. But you'd be wrong, my friends. Very, very wrong.

Yes, the ShinGwang Middle School festival did have an area displaying some of the students' projects. But these projects had absolutely nothing to do with science, and it was a very small display. My students are into art - particularly performance art - and they don't give a rat's ass about anything academic if they can possibly find a way to avoid it. They are pushed so hard for 6 days a week, up to 14 hours a day, that when given the choice, they run from their schoolwork like woodland creatures from a forest fire. So when the school festival rolls around, they are not budding Einsteins. They are singers; they are dancers; they are artists. They are divas.

The day before the festival, as I was tripping merrily home at 4:30, the students were still excitedly running around the school with their craft supplies, hanging out the windows and singing songs. They had been as horrid all week as the little girl with the curl, but their vibes of excitement and anticipation even put me in a good mood. Large groups of students had been running up to me all day, yelling "Advertisement!" (the previous week's grade 3 lesson topic) and making me pinky promise that I would come to their class's room to participate in whatever they were cooking up. Being the wonderful teacher that I am, I carried through with my promises.

This turned out to be both a good and a bad thing. While I was happy to partake of the pizza in the Halloween cafe (not sure how Halloween and pizza go together, but that's ok), I was quite glad that I didn't ask exactly what sundae is until after I ate it.

Students slicing up sundae for my valiant consumption

Free hugs were distributed in the hallways.

Not a very good businessman.....

....but a very nice student (most of the time).

I shot balloons with a toy bow & arrow in one classroom, got a shoulder massage in another, and went shopping in the little second-hand market on the grade 1 hall. There was even a beauty parlor, where I got my nails and the back of my hand painted. Yes, it was supposed to be face paint, but when the cat-shaped stain finally wore off my hand 3 days later, I was happy I opted out of the facial adornment. I also chose not to get my hair done, mainly because crimping and perms are still en vogue here. (Many things about Korean fashion just scream 1980s in the USA.)

Then came the performance part of the festival. Around lunch time, everyone headed to a brand new building downtown with a huge, tricked-out performance space. There was a flurry of costume changes and students transformed from neatly uniformed children into people I could have easily mistaken for Asian adults. (Mind you, it's damn near impossible to tell the age of a Korean between 15 and 65 by anything outside of their clothes.) The music teacher/concert director/stage manager rehearsed each group until each eye was crossed and each ㅜ was dotted.

Performances included dancing and singing; solos, duets, and group performances; comedy and instrumental performances.

 

This is a traditional Korean percussion ensemble whose loud banging rehearsals I had to was privileged to listen to every day after school for months.

Okarina ensemble playing "My Heart Will Go On" (Koreans love sappy songs). The Okarina is the Korean equivalent of the recorder, which we all learned to play in elementary school, much to the dismay of any musical ear around.

And here we see a full-on performance of what I see in the hallways every day. Shut up, boy!

This first-grader is approximately half my height. Makes his singing somehow better.

And yes, they made me sing, too. It hardly needs to be said that this was not my idea, and it somehow evolved from Caity Teacher teaching an American pop song to the kids (I was not happy), to Caity Teacher singing in a chorus of students directed by Music Teacher (I was slightly less unhappy), to Caity Teacher singing in a trio with two other teachers (I was not at all happy). Of course the trio part was sprung upon me the previous morning, so at least I had little time to dread it. It seemed the other two teachers were more worried than I was, but then again, they aren't native English speakers and we sang in English (the only part of the original plan that was preserved).

"You Raise Me Up". Not quite gospel when sung with a collective Korean accent.

Naturally we did not stick to the published performance order, and my little ShinGwang Chorus of Englishee Singers somehow ended up performing immediately after a dance number by some leather-studded high school boys that basically brought down the house. The first grade girls in my chorus screamed like, well, middle school girls as the high school boys came past us through the wings, reaching out to touch them like they were rock stars and screaming even louder when the boys obliged. The audience was still in the throes of OMGHOTBOYS and screamed through most of our first song, including our little trio. There's no way they heard a note we sang, which is probably why most of the students told me the next day that I "sing pretty."

They did calm down towards the end of the first song and showed great support for their fellow students in the second song, clapping along and cheering loudly at the end. That was probably the most touching part -- even the mediocre performances received rousing applause and great, encouraging cheers from the other students. It's illustrative of one of the main differences I notice between the students here and what I remember from middle school. My students beat the living crap out of each other every day and play many of the same tricks and jokes on each other as we did in middle school, but it's never malicious or done to hurt other students' feelings. The kids here are genuinely kind to each other (as middle schoolers go). This goes hand-in-hand, I think, with the fact that people are far more trusting here (and presumably more trustworthy?), even in the cities. What is it that Koreans are doing that results in what seems to be a kinder, safer society? And do the ends justify whatever those means may be?