This bit has little to do with Korea, but I feel that it’s necessary. On Wednesday night (morning in EST), my cat of 15 years passed through the veil to the state of true feline enlightenment (with lots of critters to chase and sun to lay in, I imagine). There’s nothing like the passing of a pet to make you feel both incredibly miserable and incredibly silly for feeling so incredibly miserable over an animal. I am fortunate to have friends here who understand, and was the recipient of one of the best group hugs EVER right when I needed it. Thanks, guys. You can all add “Comforter Extraordinaire” as a bullet point on your resume under the EPIK teaching section. I’ll even make you a certificate if you want, since everything in Korea comes with a certificate upon completion.
To follow up on a previous post, the purchase of my cell phone has come with a sizable boost on the Korean end of my social life. As far as Koreans are concerned, if you do not have a cell phone, you do not exist in the social sphere. But now that I have a phone to call, they are not afraid to call it. All of the promised outings are coming to fruition, fast and furious. A couple of weekends ago, one of my co-teachers invited me to go shopping with her, which was followed by several beers with her friends. Naturally, the very first question out of her friend’s mouth was, “Boyfriend?” But we’ve already covered that. It wasn’t long before we were chatting it up in halting elementary-level English, munching on dried squid and describing our ideal man. Dude, girl talk is so much more difficult with a language barrier. I have a hard enough time with fluent English speakers, let alone with people who don’t know anything beyond “tall” and “handsome” in my language. I eventually gave in to the temptation to just say the few words I knew they would understand and leave it at that. Despite (or maybe because of?) the fact that they have a somewhat skewed view of who I am and what I like, they told me that they “feel intimacy with” me and that I am like a Korean woman. I’m not sure what this means, exactly, but I’m taking it as a compliment.
This past week I was invited out with my other co-teachers for some makgeolli, a milky-looking traditional Korean alcohol typically served in an enormous metal tea-pot-looking thing that is then poured into and drunk from small bowls. [It should be noted that this time, we all decided together what day to go. I am a fan of this change in m.o.] It turns out that, contrary to what I hear about most Korean teachers, my co-teachers don’t drink very much. By contrast, I ended up looking like a lush with the fortitude and constitution of a rotund German man. Unlike my soju, I can hold my makgeolli pretty well. Conversation flowed freely with my flush-faced co-teachers and I’m sure we’re all better friends for it. In other social news of the week, I was invited to eat grapes in the administration room with the vice-principal and the music teacher this afternoon. I’m sure this has nothing to do with the cell phone, but it’s still a step in the right direction!
Last week we had midterms, which means that we had the afternoons free for lesson planning. Or, as was the case on Wednesday, sports day at the neighboring middle school! I am not a sports person. Sports may provide health and vitality for most people, but for me, they are a threat to my un-injured existence. I am clumsy, uncoordinated, and terrified of any and all balls that fly through the air, because in all likelihood, they will eventually hit me in the head. Somehow I made it through several rounds of a dodge ball-like game and another kickball-inspired game with some really weird twists without bruising or any major humiliation. Until the hula-hoop competition. Hula-hoops are a HUGE fad in Korea, and I’m pretty sure that all Koreans – men and women – spend several hours a day just practicing their hula-hoop technique. Probably while they watch those crazy TV shows about people in animal costumes with pop-up bubbles on the screen. They naturally assumed that this hooping prowess extended to me and the other native English teacher at the school we were visiting. They gave us three giant hula-hoops each and, when we protested that we couldn’t possibly manage all three at once, insisted that using just one would take too long. The first round was over in less than 5 seconds. The second round lasted maybe 10, but that’s because they let us use just one hoop each. We were then put to shame by two Korean teachers whose face-off lasted 5 entire minutes. With all three hoops. And I think they would’ve gone on longer if one of the teachers’ hoops hadn’t been slightly bent. We followed up the sports part of the afternoon with the eating part of the afternoon, an area in which I am much more skilled.
In food-related news, I tried my first persimmon a couple of weeks ago. Persimmons are very popular in many forms – fresh, dried, ripe, green, in teas and in sweets. I had to try one eventually, so a friend and I each purchased one from a halmoni (grandmother) on the street. We thought we’d been charged a rather steep price because we’re foreigners, but it turns out that may not have been the case. What we unknowingly purchased were the cream-of-the-crop persimmons, with very soft, brown insides and a particularly sweet/creamy taste. After that experience, one of my co-teachers brought me a huge bag of persimmons she picked herself that are now ripening in my kitchen. Being the nerd that I am, I’ve read up on persimmons and know to mind the laxative effect they can have if eaten in large quantities. I’m quite glad that I did my research this before eating the entire bag in one sitting. That could’ve been interesting. I also made it to the Costco in Daejeon last weekend, where I bought some proper cheese. There was no cheddar to be had (*sniff*), but they were selling some rather nice Parmesan (for a not-so-nice price, but what do you want?). Now the Parmesan from Daejeon is sitting in my fridge, beneath the personally picked persimmons, making me smile every time I open the door.
Showing posts with label soju. Show all posts
Showing posts with label soju. Show all posts
Friday, October 15, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Beaches (but no Bette Midler)
It's been an exciting week. Lots of bus riding, lots of beaching and not much teaching. Since I'm quite good at sitting on the beach and taking in the scenery as I ride down the highway, but not so good at getting my students to shut up and learn, I feel it's been a good week. We all like what we're good at.
Last weekend I had my first camping experience (aside from a very vague memory of a church camping trip when I was fairly young, so that didn't count). Through the miracle that is Facebook, some bright and aspiring social organizer got together a group of about 50 EPIK and hagwon English teachers on Myeongsasipri beach in Wando, about a 2.5-hour bus ride from Gwangju. Any time after August 15th is officially the off-season in Korean minds, so we were treated to an empty beach despite the near-perfect weather. The water was warm but refreshing, the waves were ride-able but not too rough, and even the mosquitoes stayed mostly at bay. We cleaned out the 7-11 of all of their beer, soju and prepackaged kimbap, then spent the day playing beach soccer/volleyball/frisbee and finished off the night with a bonfire and roasted marshmallows. Just up from the beach is a camping area with elevated wooden platforms covered by canopies, complete with a light and a set of electrical outlets (public facilities here always amaze me). We pitched our tents there, though I suspect that the sand would have been a lot softer than those boards. Note for next time: beach camping should be done on the beach. Or something softer than wood.
We packed up and came back to a one-day work week preceding the Chuseok holiday, which included plenty of Mr. Bean for my classes and the new best comment (compliment?) from my students: "Your eyes! They are like horror movie! Scary!" Thanks, kids. Monday night brought another first for me: a proper game of darts at the bar. Apparently I've never known how to keep score correctly in a game of darts. I still don't know how, but at least I know what I was doing before was wrong. The right way is far more complicated. Thank goodness most dartboards in Korea, like everything else, are automated and keep score for you. [Editor’s note: I am aware that darts are not the most interesting thing I have written or will write about, but I was told I should include it in my blog. So there you have it.]
On Tuesday we departed for Busan with a slightly different group than originally planned, partly due to the weather forecast and partly due to women and the infatuation that we can sometimes cause. (We're nothing but trouble, I tell you. Always breaking up the group.) At any rate, five of us met at the U-Square bus terminal and four of us hopped on the 3-hour bus to Busan, where we arranged to meet up with several non-Gwangju (and therefore slightly less cool) friends from EPIK orientation. Over the course of three days wandering around the city, we ran into about half a dozen other friends from our orientation classes, which was always a lovely surprise, though it made actually getting from A to B somewhat slow and difficult since we stopped to talk to everyone we saw.
Busan, where I had originally requested placement, is the second largest city in Korea and the fifth largest port in the world. It is also home to the largest spa in Asia, if not the world, though of course it was closed for Chuseok when we tried to go. Instead I was treated to my own version of a day at the spa: a shower in a western-style bathroom, courtesy of Jess, who decided to get a decent hotel room rather than cram four people into a hostel room with a set of bunk beds and a couch like the rest of us. The weather was sunny and cool with a nice, light breeze. Except for Wednesday, which was a cold, wet, miserable mess, like someone threw a November day in DC into the middle of our vacation. My co-teachers had told me that it would be too cold to swim (post-August 15th, remember), and we feared they may have been right. Thank goodness things cleared up the very next day, as though the universe took pity on us and flipped the late summer/early fall switch back on. Many shops and restaurants were closed because of Chuseok, but that also meant far less foot traffic and crowds to negotiate. We mostly explored Seomyeon, where our hostel was, and the Haeundae beach area. In Seomyeon we were introduced to the Old Record, a bar decked out in 1960s-era pictures and posters of rock stars and naked women. The owner has amassed a mind-blowing collection of vinyl that he keeps spinning all night in the small, dimly lit room that smells of stale cigarette smoke and probably hasn’t been aired out since it was first built. Customers can also request just about any song or artist that exists, and he’ll find it online and play it for you. We spent the better part of 4 hours there on Wednesday evening, draining the keg and lounging on the greenish, crushed velvet couches and love seats that are so oddly common in Korean bars.
We also did plenty of shopping, not least because of the unexpectedly fall-like weather that has descended so quickly (sooo happy my winter clothing care package is on its way from home!). This was my first foray into shopping in Korea, since we just got paid this past Monday (yay!). I’ve found it to be a somewhat intimidating and frustrating experience. Salespeople tend to hover just over your shoulder, and no matter how carefully you replace that shoe in the display, they will readjust it. And Koreans are usually so nice and full of compliments that it sounds even worse by contrast when they say anything negative or critical. While wondering around the Busan Home Plus looking for beach towels, I spied a counter full of denim leggings carefully packaged in individual plastic bags. This was more interesting to me at the time than towels, so I stopped. The salesman behind the leggings took one look at me and motioned for me to move on, followed by a series of gestures expressing in no uncertain terms that my butt was too big to wear what he was selling. Perhaps I should be glad that this was the first time I've been called fat by a tiny Korean, but it was still a very blunt reminder that was driven home by my inability to find pants in anything close to my size when we were exploring the underground metro station shops the next day. Most Korean women have at least one hollow leg and can eat as much as they want without gaining so much as a centimeter around their midsections. I am not a Korean woman, and there are consequences to the fact that I have a healthy appreciation for food. This also means, however, that I am shaped like a proper woman rather than a young boy. So take that, leggings man! American men like my ass! I’m hoping the shopping trip that I have tentatively planned with some of my co-teachers will turn out a bit better.
No grade 2 classes this week, as they’re preparing for midterm exams. I am now heading home to rest and recover and plan lessons for the other two grades. And buy things for my home that were a post-paycheck priority. I am a nester; I will find a way to make my apartment look more homey than the white wallpapered box that it is right now.
We packed up and came back to a one-day work week preceding the Chuseok holiday, which included plenty of Mr. Bean for my classes and the new best comment (compliment?) from my students: "Your eyes! They are like horror movie! Scary!" Thanks, kids. Monday night brought another first for me: a proper game of darts at the bar. Apparently I've never known how to keep score correctly in a game of darts. I still don't know how, but at least I know what I was doing before was wrong. The right way is far more complicated. Thank goodness most dartboards in Korea, like everything else, are automated and keep score for you. [Editor’s note: I am aware that darts are not the most interesting thing I have written or will write about, but I was told I should include it in my blog. So there you have it.]
On Tuesday we departed for Busan with a slightly different group than originally planned, partly due to the weather forecast and partly due to women and the infatuation that we can sometimes cause. (We're nothing but trouble, I tell you. Always breaking up the group.) At any rate, five of us met at the U-Square bus terminal and four of us hopped on the 3-hour bus to Busan, where we arranged to meet up with several non-Gwangju (and therefore slightly less cool) friends from EPIK orientation. Over the course of three days wandering around the city, we ran into about half a dozen other friends from our orientation classes, which was always a lovely surprise, though it made actually getting from A to B somewhat slow and difficult since we stopped to talk to everyone we saw.
We also did plenty of shopping, not least because of the unexpectedly fall-like weather that has descended so quickly (sooo happy my winter clothing care package is on its way from home!). This was my first foray into shopping in Korea, since we just got paid this past Monday (yay!). I’ve found it to be a somewhat intimidating and frustrating experience. Salespeople tend to hover just over your shoulder, and no matter how carefully you replace that shoe in the display, they will readjust it. And Koreans are usually so nice and full of compliments that it sounds even worse by contrast when they say anything negative or critical. While wondering around the Busan Home Plus looking for beach towels, I spied a counter full of denim leggings carefully packaged in individual plastic bags. This was more interesting to me at the time than towels, so I stopped. The salesman behind the leggings took one look at me and motioned for me to move on, followed by a series of gestures expressing in no uncertain terms that my butt was too big to wear what he was selling. Perhaps I should be glad that this was the first time I've been called fat by a tiny Korean, but it was still a very blunt reminder that was driven home by my inability to find pants in anything close to my size when we were exploring the underground metro station shops the next day. Most Korean women have at least one hollow leg and can eat as much as they want without gaining so much as a centimeter around their midsections. I am not a Korean woman, and there are consequences to the fact that I have a healthy appreciation for food. This also means, however, that I am shaped like a proper woman rather than a young boy. So take that, leggings man! American men like my ass! I’m hoping the shopping trip that I have tentatively planned with some of my co-teachers will turn out a bit better.
No grade 2 classes this week, as they’re preparing for midterm exams. I am now heading home to rest and recover and plan lessons for the other two grades. And buy things for my home that were a post-paycheck priority. I am a nester; I will find a way to make my apartment look more homey than the white wallpapered box that it is right now.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Too much to write about. So I didn't until now.
Sorry guys, I know I'm delinquent. Too much soju and crap beer + dancing to the wee hours of the morning several nights in a row + rain every day keeping me from taking pics of the neighborhood + just waaaayyy too many experiences to write about = my head imploding and me not writing about any of it. So I'll try my best to rectify that with apologies in advance for skimming over some details. I'll come back to them later (unless I don't).
I moved into the apartment on Thursday afternoon. There are pics on the Picasa page for your viewing pleasure (you can now just click on the gadget to the right instead of digging for the link). It's much bigger than I had anticipated -- more than one room! -- and kind of cute. I mean seriously, my tiny refrigerator has flowers on it. Everything in Korea is the decked-out version of what we have back home, though unfortunately it's usually covered in neon-colored flowers and sparkles and then they slap a big bow on it. And everything plays a song when receiving commands -- the a/c, the TV, the washing machine, the key pad lock on the door, the elevator, even the bell at school -- it's kind of like being in an amusement park of cute.
So aside from the fact that my water heater isn't working (thank God it's summer and I don't mind the cold showers quite as much) and that the washing machine dumps water all over the floor because, as far as I can tell, the drainage hose goes nowhere, things are peachy. I already have cable -- or perhaps their basic TV package includes 70-some channels? -- and I can sporadically steal internet from someone else in the building with an unsecured signal. The other things will be fixed sooner rather than later, I hope.
The location is great, too. I live less than a 5-minute walk from my school (you can see my building from the front door of the school), I'm told that I'm close to a great university nightlife spot, and there's a Home Plus just a couple of blocks away, which is HUGE and has just about anything you could possibly ever want to buy. It contains a McDonald's, a Dunkin' Donuts, a Baskin-Robbins and its own restaurant/cafeteria thing. It's probably a bit pricier than the mom & pop shops around, but boy, is it convenient. And every so often a song will come on the PA system and all of the employees will stop what they are doing, right where they are, and do a little calisthenics routine. Entertainment!
Speaking of entertainment, the fun just keeps going on and on in this city. It never really shuts down. You can get deep fried pieces of unknown seafood at any time of the day or night simply by pointing at a plate and handing a couple thousand won to the smiling ajuma standing over the fryer. No Korean necessary! And the only reason you might end up on the street outside the seafood stand in the first place is because the owner of the expat bar you were busy dancing at finally kicked you out so he could go home and sleep. On top of that cake (as any good travel experience is an exercise in self-discovery), I have recently learned yet another fact about myself: accents are very bad for my willpower. It seems these Brits and Irish can talk me into anything just because they sound all charming with their missing consonants and antiquated words. Fortunately, they’ve all been good people so far and not lured me into anything too detrimental. Yet.
However, behind all of the newness and excitement lurks the fact that I have never been so helpless since I was a small child. I have to give myself a pep talk every time I walk out the door. Yes, you can take the bus, Caitlin. You can go grocery shopping, figure out what to buy (even though you can't read any of the labels) and even communicate with the cashier who doesn't understand that you don't speak Korean (charades teaches important life skills). You can go out into your neighborhood and, if you get lost, you can figure out how to ask for directions to get back again. My first night out, I was physically trembling at the thought of finding a taxi to meet the other waygooks (foreigners) downtown. And no amount of self-pep-talking will change the fact that I must rely on my head co-teacher for other basics like communicating with my landlord, doing all of my paperwork and bills, reading the bus route map, getting my internet and phone set up when it comes time....I don't even know how to check my own bank balance! It's an experience that has caused me to start regressing in ways that have nothing to do with my inability to read or speak in this country. Like my brain is automatically reverting to high school mode. However, I can proudly say that I am still worlds ahead of my middle school students, whom I met today for the first time.
So, self-discovery lesson #2: I was most definitely NOT born to teach. Today was such a huge bomb. I don't think my lesson was that bad -- just an introduction about myself, making name tags and going over class rules. But 3.5 out of the 5 classes I taught talked the entire time, and there was nothing I could do to get them to shut up. I just don't have the heart to make them stand at the back of the classroom with their hands in the air or anything of that ilk (plus how effective is it when half the class is standing back there?), and I'm certainly not going to carry around a bamboo stick and thwack their desks (and perhaps them?) every so often like one of my co-teachers. I can only improve from here, I suppose, I just have to figure out how.
At least 3 of my 4 co-teachers are fairly young, so that should help me in developing some sort of rapport with them. My head co-teacher is a mom with a son in high school and another one working in Seoul. She's quite nice, but has kept me at arm's length so far. The students, on the other hand, want to get as close as possible. Physically. As close as possible. And then ask me all kinds of weird questions about my age, marital/dating status, height, etc., etc. Then they make a loud, choral "oooooh!" sound when I tell them how old I am. I'm not sure if they think I'm really young or really old. They run down the hall and come into whatever room I happen to be in just to stand close to me, giggling. I was told that I'm pretty at least 10 times today and got 2 or 3 "I love you"s, which was not quite as big of a confidence booster as the principal & others saying that my entire two-word Korean vocabulary is quite good! And I pronounce it well! Koreans are just so nice. I take it all with a healthy pinch of salt.
I moved into the apartment on Thursday afternoon. There are pics on the Picasa page for your viewing pleasure (you can now just click on the gadget to the right instead of digging for the link). It's much bigger than I had anticipated -- more than one room! -- and kind of cute. I mean seriously, my tiny refrigerator has flowers on it. Everything in Korea is the decked-out version of what we have back home, though unfortunately it's usually covered in neon-colored flowers and sparkles and then they slap a big bow on it. And everything plays a song when receiving commands -- the a/c, the TV, the washing machine, the key pad lock on the door, the elevator, even the bell at school -- it's kind of like being in an amusement park of cute.
So aside from the fact that my water heater isn't working (thank God it's summer and I don't mind the cold showers quite as much) and that the washing machine dumps water all over the floor because, as far as I can tell, the drainage hose goes nowhere, things are peachy. I already have cable -- or perhaps their basic TV package includes 70-some channels? -- and I can sporadically steal internet from someone else in the building with an unsecured signal. The other things will be fixed sooner rather than later, I hope.
The location is great, too. I live less than a 5-minute walk from my school (you can see my building from the front door of the school), I'm told that I'm close to a great university nightlife spot, and there's a Home Plus just a couple of blocks away, which is HUGE and has just about anything you could possibly ever want to buy. It contains a McDonald's, a Dunkin' Donuts, a Baskin-Robbins and its own restaurant/cafeteria thing. It's probably a bit pricier than the mom & pop shops around, but boy, is it convenient. And every so often a song will come on the PA system and all of the employees will stop what they are doing, right where they are, and do a little calisthenics routine. Entertainment!
 |
| Waygooks in downtown Gwangju |
However, behind all of the newness and excitement lurks the fact that I have never been so helpless since I was a small child. I have to give myself a pep talk every time I walk out the door. Yes, you can take the bus, Caitlin. You can go grocery shopping, figure out what to buy (even though you can't read any of the labels) and even communicate with the cashier who doesn't understand that you don't speak Korean (charades teaches important life skills). You can go out into your neighborhood and, if you get lost, you can figure out how to ask for directions to get back again. My first night out, I was physically trembling at the thought of finding a taxi to meet the other waygooks (foreigners) downtown. And no amount of self-pep-talking will change the fact that I must rely on my head co-teacher for other basics like communicating with my landlord, doing all of my paperwork and bills, reading the bus route map, getting my internet and phone set up when it comes time....I don't even know how to check my own bank balance! It's an experience that has caused me to start regressing in ways that have nothing to do with my inability to read or speak in this country. Like my brain is automatically reverting to high school mode. However, I can proudly say that I am still worlds ahead of my middle school students, whom I met today for the first time.
So, self-discovery lesson #2: I was most definitely NOT born to teach. Today was such a huge bomb. I don't think my lesson was that bad -- just an introduction about myself, making name tags and going over class rules. But 3.5 out of the 5 classes I taught talked the entire time, and there was nothing I could do to get them to shut up. I just don't have the heart to make them stand at the back of the classroom with their hands in the air or anything of that ilk (plus how effective is it when half the class is standing back there?), and I'm certainly not going to carry around a bamboo stick and thwack their desks (and perhaps them?) every so often like one of my co-teachers. I can only improve from here, I suppose, I just have to figure out how.
At least 3 of my 4 co-teachers are fairly young, so that should help me in developing some sort of rapport with them. My head co-teacher is a mom with a son in high school and another one working in Seoul. She's quite nice, but has kept me at arm's length so far. The students, on the other hand, want to get as close as possible. Physically. As close as possible. And then ask me all kinds of weird questions about my age, marital/dating status, height, etc., etc. Then they make a loud, choral "oooooh!" sound when I tell them how old I am. I'm not sure if they think I'm really young or really old. They run down the hall and come into whatever room I happen to be in just to stand close to me, giggling. I was told that I'm pretty at least 10 times today and got 2 or 3 "I love you"s, which was not quite as big of a confidence booster as the principal & others saying that my entire two-word Korean vocabulary is quite good! And I pronounce it well! Koreans are just so nice. I take it all with a healthy pinch of salt.
Friday, August 20, 2010
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.
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.
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