This is my post that was essentially finished on the date of it's intended publication but managed to climb further into the recesses of my backlogged blog as the prospect of attempting to cover the widening gap from my last post became more and more daunting.
JULY 27TH- HIROSHIMA TO KYOTO
It’s a little after 9 PM here in the Orient and we are speeding towards our first real destination of our trip. We’re relaxing on the express rail to Kyoto with another satisfactory day under our belt. As we assumed might be the case, the weather did very little to help us out and we’ve accepted that the weather may be a reoccurring obstacle for us in the future. Accepting that unfortunate state of affairs, we managed a very moving, though sobering, day in one of only two cities in the world to ever experience the effects of a direct strike from an atomic bomb.
Our efforts to find lunch after we arrived were yet again trying. We’ve realized that although we aren’t really picky about where we eat, we kind of are. We saw a few restaurants that looked like they could be potential dining spots but I think we were just hesitant to commit to one thing knowing that there might something else out there. Should our relationship with Japan ever get serious I worry that this fear of commitment may get in the way somewhere down the road. Either way, with only one day in Hiroshima, lunch was a minor concern, and once we had eaten our fill we braved the rain as it was falling its hardest and marched toward the Hiroshima Museum. With the rain falling at a rate that made umbrellas virtually ineffective, we hurried through Hiroshima park, taking only sidelong glances and catching faint glimpses of what was around us, bent on making it indoors as soon as possible.
When we finally made it inside, we started into the heart of the museum when we discovered that we would be able to catch two movies about Hiroshima and The Bomb just as they were about to start. I think the three of us agree that this was the best move possible. They were two documentaries- one concentrating a little more on the sentimental humanistic side while the other took a broader look at the factual and real aspects of what occurred there in 1945. By the end of the two of them, though somewhat dispirited, we were far more suited to appreciate what we would be seeing within.
It was odd to realize that although we’ve read about and heard about Hiroshima and Nagasaki over and over again in our lives, there still remains a very real disconnect that doesn’t really dissolve until you actually go to the place that it happened and are among the descendants and survivors of who it happened to. Perhaps the most intriguing part of the experience was the different perspectives that were made available to me at a single time. It was peculiar notion to think that, after having read and heard about these events from an American voice, the voice of the bomber, I was immersed in the world of the bombed. Even as I heard the same story again I couldn’t help but look at it in a completely different way. It was not only that but also, in the company of two Canadians, it was interesting to see how even they learned about and heard about the same events somewhat differently. Overall, I was impressed by how well the design of the museum was executed and while certain parts of the movies were graphic, it could all be appreciated within the context of the subject at hand.
We left the museum the way the museum intends you to leave it and the way Hiroshima, as a city, intends you to leave it- somber but hopeful. Unlike when we had arrived at the museum, as we left the rain was falling but at a more reasonable rate. This time we were able to appreciate the park that lay beyond the museum in its entirety. Dappled with various trees and dotted with sculptures dedicated to the memory Hiroshima’s tragic destruction, the park culminates with two major focal points that can be seen in unison from the exit of the museum- the perpetually lit torch at the center of park, burning until all nuclear arms and processing plants are dismantled and destroyed and the A-Bomb dome in the backdrop, the last remaining ruins of a city that was once entirely flattened in a single morning. Still, the most telling monument in the entire is probably the people and the city itself. Were it not for history books and memories, a casual observer would never suspect what went on there.
Dinner in Hiroshima was a pretty casual affair. We went back to the train terminal to set up our ride to Kyoto and looked around in the immediate area for something that caught our eye. It took some time and about three laps around the restaurant area of the terminal before we found a place that wasn’t too crowded and satisfied our evidently particular tastes. We managed what proved to be a pleasant surprise as we sat down to a small bar with about eight stools that was comprised of enough space for eating and a huge skillet top where the food was prepared right in front of you. The fare was essentially a battery pancake on the bottom of a vast array of different vegetables all thrown together and held together by the aforementioned pancake. It was simple but substantial and in the way of regrets there were none.
Our departure of Hiroshima went like the entire day’s visit, quiet. While the excitement of heading to our next destination could be felt creeping upon us, we boarded our train with a subdued reverence for the city and people we were leaving.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
JULY 26th - THE TRIP TO JAPAN- SAKE AND LIAM
The sails have been lifted and we are well under way as I begin my first entry in this new segment to the Soko and Liam Publication- Sake and Liam. Right now, I am typing away on an express train from Fukuoka, Japan to the infamously historical city of Hiroshima. The rain is surging at a monsoon-like rate outside my window but while the world out there is damp and dark, the spirits of my two travel companions and myself are light and lofty. After all, we are in Japan and on the beginning end of a week vacation that will entail stops in the traditional and enchanting city of Kyoto along with a visit to bustling metropolis of Tokyo followed by a hiking excursion up the cliffs and crags of Mount Fuji. While the won is the diminutive second cousin to the colossal Japanese yen and our pockets are light, the world is our oyster and we’re ready to see what it has to offer.
Echoing elements of a previous journey’s start, things didn’t go entirely as planned from the get-go. My first travel companion, Priya and I, had work until 7:20 and our third addition to the party didn’t get out of work until 10:00 so it was our plan to hop on the 10:30 train that night to Busan where we would pick up the ferry in the morning. Knowing that I had a 3-hour wide berth to get home, packed and over to the bus station, I agreed to have dinner with Chris and a few of the Korean teachers after work. While I expected to find myself rushing, I was actually rather responsible in excusing myself from dinner in a timely fashion and getting back to the apartment to begin my typically rushed and random pack and pray routine. While this system appears slightly flawed to most outsiders I would have to go ahead and disagree. I would actually say it is EXTREMELY flawed. Still, it’s an adventure as well. Either way, so far, my packing has proven thorough enough for my needs. Unfortunately, the mistake I was to make was set into motion well before my thoughts of packing began. Somehow the idea of bringing my visa to a foreign country never entered my mind. I’ve been traveling throughout parts of Korea without any concern for it so it never occurred to me that this trip (TO JAPAN!) might require some documentation. It wasn’t until Priya and I were in the taxi to the bus station that we went over the check list of vital items that we would need and after the first item I was already 0 for 1. Ultimately, I had to rush back to work where I had been keeping it in my desk but even before that, it was clearly evident that the 10:30 bus to Busan would be nothing but a memory by the time I got back. We ended up settling for a 12:00 departure- a departure that would dictate our actions for the rest of the night, for better or for worse.
When the bus pulled up to Busan it was sometime around 3:30 am and our options were to settle up in a Love-Motel (I’ll let the imagination of my readership to reach their own conclusions about what that is) or stay at a jim jil bang, which is pretty much a spa where you have the option of resting your head for a little of you choose. Rationally, we chose neither and headed to a nearby McDonalds. There, we asked when they would be serving breakfast and when we learned it would at 4:00 am we decided to wait it out. Two sausage, egg and cheese McMuffins later we sat around discussing our next plan of action. At that point, it was no longer worth trying to find a place to stay so we moved to a remote booth in what was a rather sizeable McDonalds and sat, snoozed and talked until sometime after 6 am. From there we hopped on the Hydrofoil for four hours until we reached the heat and humidity of one of Japan’s southern port cities, Fukuoka.
With no set plans in Fukuoka and still unsure where we would be staying for night until the next day when our Japan Rail passes would be valid and we could head to Hiroshima, we began to lug our bags and belongings through the city with a map and a few business cards leading the way. We wandered for some time, eager to find both food and shelter in an unknown city. Although we were hungry, our lodgings took precedent and we trudged through the urban milieu, using the small map on the back of our business cards to find a hostel for the night. Eventually, having no luck with our search, we grabbed a cab and showed him the card with hopes that there would be a vacancy in the first place we looked. I admit that we were lost after I had decided to take point and orienteer ourselves toward our destination but, I relinquished any real blame shortly after when we found ourselves with a cab driver who was combing the streets and driving in circles to find the very same hostel I had been trying to get us to. In fact, after we had gone in circles twice, our cab driver magnanimously turned off his meter, made a few phone calls and took it upon himself to make sure we reached where we were going. We did eventually get to where we were going and were pleasantly surprised to find it with a vacancy for three at an extremely agreeable price. In fact, we were so fortunate in our search, that our gracious landlady/hostess/friend provided us with authentic Japanese pajamas, green tea, bedding and towels and did so with a wonderful smile the entire time. We were in Japan and, so far, things were looking good.
Having established our residence for the evening, we decided it was time to explore and get some food. The theme for the evening was economy. We were in Fukuoka for the night out of convenience and necessity, not as point of interest although the city did prove to be rather interesting. When we began our mission for food in the beginning we were pretty open-minded but, at the same time, we wanted to make sure it was real Japanese cuisine and not too expensive. The search took us somewhat farther than we expected and, as we wandered, we wound through a few underground malls (underground malls that far exceeded the one in Gwangju ) and wended through a couple side streets before agreeing on a small place that served yakisoba which was a combination of lo mein-like noodles (soba), meat and vegetables, topped in a kind of soy sauce. We found it both affordable and satisfactory and were ready forge back out into the city and do some more exploring. We remained rather aimless, strolling through a park where the peculiar sound of cicadas could be heard mixing the noise of the city and stopping in at a few novelty shops. We looked at a few restaurants and discussed what we would be eating for dinner after we had worked up an appetite from walking when we discovered that in all of our ramblings we had yet to encounter a place that served sushi. This seemed both wrong and unacceptable and when we made the conscious effort to find a place with sushi it started as a fancy and became a determined quest. We refused to believe that we could go through a Japanese city without finding a place to eat sushi. It was about this time that we were overtaken by a burly but friendly Jamaican man by the name of Allen who wanted to know our story and tell us his. He told us about how he was born in Jamaica, grew up in Brooklyn and then met and married a Japanese woman who brought him there and he had been living in Fukuoka for the past 16 years. Once the introductions were behind us we inquired about a good place for sushi and we were met with a laugh as he raised his outstretched arms on either side, palms facing upward, saying “They’re everywhere, mon! You’re in Japan!” He was right, we were but based on our knowledge of the Japanese language which, like in Korea, is pretty much limited to pictures so he offered to take us to his bar and show us some brochures and maps that might help us out. Personally, I found Allen to be refreshingly jovial character but I can’t blame the other two for being a bit reticent about following him along, especially as we approached the building and he pointed to a single balcony that looked more like an apartment with Bob Marley’s face printed on a Jamaican flag and as we entered a seedy lobby and got into an even seedier elevator. Luckily, our faith in humankind prevailed and he took us into a small but inviting bar fully decked out in Jamaican regalia, equipped with a Red Stripe tap and enough red, yellow and green to satisfy any Jamaicophile. He let us take some pictures on his matching balcony and invited us to come back later when he was actually open and we left with friendly good-byes and our sincere things before continuing on our search for Japan’s national dish.
When we left Allen we thought we had a good bearing on where we were but there’s something about new cities when day turns into night and it begins to look a little different. Thinking we knew what direction to go we casually walked in a direction, talking and taking pictures with no real concern for where we were going. That directional indifference escaped me first when it started to occur to me that, while we all believe we had a sense of where we were, I had somehow become the one on point. It was my false bravado and confidence in myself that I could figure out where we were going that eventually left us completely disoriented and, in most if not all senses of the word, lost. Instead of seeing this as a roadblock in our plans, our trio kept our chins up and accepted the challenge as we wracked our brains to get some idea of where we were. It required a group effort but after finding some vague landmarks that we may have only convinced ourselves that we had seen before, we headed into a part of the underground mall and used the signs to get us into a part of the city that we were at least somewhat familiar with. Incredibly, it was the combination of a purse in a window that Priya had commented on early and a picture that I had taken of a narrow alleyway that afternoon that provided us with the most concrete landmarks for directing us home- well, that and a huge ship protruding from the façade of one of the restaurants on the corner of our hostel’s street.
Naturally, just as we were pretty confident about where we were going, the rain that had held out the entire day let us have it all at once. We were maybe 5 minutes from our hostel when we found ourselves pinned under and an awning, half-soaked and trying to wait out the deluge. After being set on sushi for healthy portion of the day, we looked at each other and decided we’d be willing to cut our losses and just grab some nearby food while we waited the rain out. Amazingly, as looked around and across the street we saw two restaurants- one Chinese, the other Indian. Our conviction had weakened but we weren’t about to sell out our traveling sensibilities. We opted out of the easy exit and dashed to a nearby convenience store where we bought some cheap umbrellas and trudged towards our hostel, unwilling to relent until we had accomplished what we had set out to do. We found our hostel, re-familiarized ourselves with our surroundings and set out towards one of the main strips nearby. First, we inspected the restaurants that were all located in the center of shopping center called Canal City. We looked at about ten restaurants with no success until we decided to walk back out on the other end of the shopping center and see what we could find on the street there. We walked past a couple of restaurants to no avail as hunger and despair began to grip us when we looked into a restaurant and asked if they served sushi. She shook her had and turned our heads downward in defeat when she stepped out into the street with us and pointed down the street with a smile and said, “Sushi!” Our eyebrows rose in disbelief but said thank you and followed her directions. Sure enough, only two restaurants down, there was a small sushi bar with about six or seven seats and trio of smiling workers welcoming into our first sushi bar in Japan.
We’re not sure how common this is in Japan or in sushi bars, in general, but after we had ordered and they began serving the sushi we realized that both our plates and our chopsticks were useless. Instead, the sushi roller placed our food directly on the bar in front of us and instructed us to grab, dip and eat with our hands. We would have been a little more taken aback by the prospect of picking up our food with our hands if it weren’t for the fact that had already handled my sushi when plopping it in front of me and then again to show us how to eat it. In my mind, if it’s okay for him to pick up my food with his hands then my fingers should be fair game. The meal was a slight bit pricier than we anticipated, but the staff there was extremely friend and although we only ordered eight rolls each, they went ahead and gave us nine. They seemed to really appreciate having us there and we were more than happy to provide them with our company.
The night finished with some ice cream wrapped in crepes and some pictures of us in our Japanese pajamas before we snagged an early bedtime and prepared for our early departure to Hiroshima in the morning.
Today, we woke up a little bit later than we expected because our alarm didn’t work but it was a far from disheartening result. My eyes had opened to the world with the sound of torrential rain pattering in my ears and stark reality that the weather today might not work to our benefit. Knowing that we’ll only be in Hiroshima for the day and that our itinerary isn’t terribly demanding, we remain content with the trajectory of our Sunday thus far.
The sails have been lifted and we are well under way as I begin my first entry in this new segment to the Soko and Liam Publication- Sake and Liam. Right now, I am typing away on an express train from Fukuoka, Japan to the infamously historical city of Hiroshima. The rain is surging at a monsoon-like rate outside my window but while the world out there is damp and dark, the spirits of my two travel companions and myself are light and lofty. After all, we are in Japan and on the beginning end of a week vacation that will entail stops in the traditional and enchanting city of Kyoto along with a visit to bustling metropolis of Tokyo followed by a hiking excursion up the cliffs and crags of Mount Fuji. While the won is the diminutive second cousin to the colossal Japanese yen and our pockets are light, the world is our oyster and we’re ready to see what it has to offer.
Echoing elements of a previous journey’s start, things didn’t go entirely as planned from the get-go. My first travel companion, Priya and I, had work until 7:20 and our third addition to the party didn’t get out of work until 10:00 so it was our plan to hop on the 10:30 train that night to Busan where we would pick up the ferry in the morning. Knowing that I had a 3-hour wide berth to get home, packed and over to the bus station, I agreed to have dinner with Chris and a few of the Korean teachers after work. While I expected to find myself rushing, I was actually rather responsible in excusing myself from dinner in a timely fashion and getting back to the apartment to begin my typically rushed and random pack and pray routine. While this system appears slightly flawed to most outsiders I would have to go ahead and disagree. I would actually say it is EXTREMELY flawed. Still, it’s an adventure as well. Either way, so far, my packing has proven thorough enough for my needs. Unfortunately, the mistake I was to make was set into motion well before my thoughts of packing began. Somehow the idea of bringing my visa to a foreign country never entered my mind. I’ve been traveling throughout parts of Korea without any concern for it so it never occurred to me that this trip (TO JAPAN!) might require some documentation. It wasn’t until Priya and I were in the taxi to the bus station that we went over the check list of vital items that we would need and after the first item I was already 0 for 1. Ultimately, I had to rush back to work where I had been keeping it in my desk but even before that, it was clearly evident that the 10:30 bus to Busan would be nothing but a memory by the time I got back. We ended up settling for a 12:00 departure- a departure that would dictate our actions for the rest of the night, for better or for worse.
When the bus pulled up to Busan it was sometime around 3:30 am and our options were to settle up in a Love-Motel (I’ll let the imagination of my readership to reach their own conclusions about what that is) or stay at a jim jil bang, which is pretty much a spa where you have the option of resting your head for a little of you choose. Rationally, we chose neither and headed to a nearby McDonalds. There, we asked when they would be serving breakfast and when we learned it would at 4:00 am we decided to wait it out. Two sausage, egg and cheese McMuffins later we sat around discussing our next plan of action. At that point, it was no longer worth trying to find a place to stay so we moved to a remote booth in what was a rather sizeable McDonalds and sat, snoozed and talked until sometime after 6 am. From there we hopped on the Hydrofoil for four hours until we reached the heat and humidity of one of Japan’s southern port cities, Fukuoka.
With no set plans in Fukuoka and still unsure where we would be staying for night until the next day when our Japan Rail passes would be valid and we could head to Hiroshima, we began to lug our bags and belongings through the city with a map and a few business cards leading the way. We wandered for some time, eager to find both food and shelter in an unknown city. Although we were hungry, our lodgings took precedent and we trudged through the urban milieu, using the small map on the back of our business cards to find a hostel for the night. Eventually, having no luck with our search, we grabbed a cab and showed him the card with hopes that there would be a vacancy in the first place we looked. I admit that we were lost after I had decided to take point and orienteer ourselves toward our destination but, I relinquished any real blame shortly after when we found ourselves with a cab driver who was combing the streets and driving in circles to find the very same hostel I had been trying to get us to. In fact, after we had gone in circles twice, our cab driver magnanimously turned off his meter, made a few phone calls and took it upon himself to make sure we reached where we were going. We did eventually get to where we were going and were pleasantly surprised to find it with a vacancy for three at an extremely agreeable price. In fact, we were so fortunate in our search, that our gracious landlady/hostess/friend provided us with authentic Japanese pajamas, green tea, bedding and towels and did so with a wonderful smile the entire time. We were in Japan and, so far, things were looking good.
Having established our residence for the evening, we decided it was time to explore and get some food. The theme for the evening was economy. We were in Fukuoka for the night out of convenience and necessity, not as point of interest although the city did prove to be rather interesting. When we began our mission for food in the beginning we were pretty open-minded but, at the same time, we wanted to make sure it was real Japanese cuisine and not too expensive. The search took us somewhat farther than we expected and, as we wandered, we wound through a few underground malls (underground malls that far exceeded the one in Gwangju ) and wended through a couple side streets before agreeing on a small place that served yakisoba which was a combination of lo mein-like noodles (soba), meat and vegetables, topped in a kind of soy sauce. We found it both affordable and satisfactory and were ready forge back out into the city and do some more exploring. We remained rather aimless, strolling through a park where the peculiar sound of cicadas could be heard mixing the noise of the city and stopping in at a few novelty shops. We looked at a few restaurants and discussed what we would be eating for dinner after we had worked up an appetite from walking when we discovered that in all of our ramblings we had yet to encounter a place that served sushi. This seemed both wrong and unacceptable and when we made the conscious effort to find a place with sushi it started as a fancy and became a determined quest. We refused to believe that we could go through a Japanese city without finding a place to eat sushi. It was about this time that we were overtaken by a burly but friendly Jamaican man by the name of Allen who wanted to know our story and tell us his. He told us about how he was born in Jamaica, grew up in Brooklyn and then met and married a Japanese woman who brought him there and he had been living in Fukuoka for the past 16 years. Once the introductions were behind us we inquired about a good place for sushi and we were met with a laugh as he raised his outstretched arms on either side, palms facing upward, saying “They’re everywhere, mon! You’re in Japan!” He was right, we were but based on our knowledge of the Japanese language which, like in Korea, is pretty much limited to pictures so he offered to take us to his bar and show us some brochures and maps that might help us out. Personally, I found Allen to be refreshingly jovial character but I can’t blame the other two for being a bit reticent about following him along, especially as we approached the building and he pointed to a single balcony that looked more like an apartment with Bob Marley’s face printed on a Jamaican flag and as we entered a seedy lobby and got into an even seedier elevator. Luckily, our faith in humankind prevailed and he took us into a small but inviting bar fully decked out in Jamaican regalia, equipped with a Red Stripe tap and enough red, yellow and green to satisfy any Jamaicophile. He let us take some pictures on his matching balcony and invited us to come back later when he was actually open and we left with friendly good-byes and our sincere things before continuing on our search for Japan’s national dish.
When we left Allen we thought we had a good bearing on where we were but there’s something about new cities when day turns into night and it begins to look a little different. Thinking we knew what direction to go we casually walked in a direction, talking and taking pictures with no real concern for where we were going. That directional indifference escaped me first when it started to occur to me that, while we all believe we had a sense of where we were, I had somehow become the one on point. It was my false bravado and confidence in myself that I could figure out where we were going that eventually left us completely disoriented and, in most if not all senses of the word, lost. Instead of seeing this as a roadblock in our plans, our trio kept our chins up and accepted the challenge as we wracked our brains to get some idea of where we were. It required a group effort but after finding some vague landmarks that we may have only convinced ourselves that we had seen before, we headed into a part of the underground mall and used the signs to get us into a part of the city that we were at least somewhat familiar with. Incredibly, it was the combination of a purse in a window that Priya had commented on early and a picture that I had taken of a narrow alleyway that afternoon that provided us with the most concrete landmarks for directing us home- well, that and a huge ship protruding from the façade of one of the restaurants on the corner of our hostel’s street.
Naturally, just as we were pretty confident about where we were going, the rain that had held out the entire day let us have it all at once. We were maybe 5 minutes from our hostel when we found ourselves pinned under and an awning, half-soaked and trying to wait out the deluge. After being set on sushi for healthy portion of the day, we looked at each other and decided we’d be willing to cut our losses and just grab some nearby food while we waited the rain out. Amazingly, as looked around and across the street we saw two restaurants- one Chinese, the other Indian. Our conviction had weakened but we weren’t about to sell out our traveling sensibilities. We opted out of the easy exit and dashed to a nearby convenience store where we bought some cheap umbrellas and trudged towards our hostel, unwilling to relent until we had accomplished what we had set out to do. We found our hostel, re-familiarized ourselves with our surroundings and set out towards one of the main strips nearby. First, we inspected the restaurants that were all located in the center of shopping center called Canal City. We looked at about ten restaurants with no success until we decided to walk back out on the other end of the shopping center and see what we could find on the street there. We walked past a couple of restaurants to no avail as hunger and despair began to grip us when we looked into a restaurant and asked if they served sushi. She shook her had and turned our heads downward in defeat when she stepped out into the street with us and pointed down the street with a smile and said, “Sushi!” Our eyebrows rose in disbelief but said thank you and followed her directions. Sure enough, only two restaurants down, there was a small sushi bar with about six or seven seats and trio of smiling workers welcoming into our first sushi bar in Japan.
We’re not sure how common this is in Japan or in sushi bars, in general, but after we had ordered and they began serving the sushi we realized that both our plates and our chopsticks were useless. Instead, the sushi roller placed our food directly on the bar in front of us and instructed us to grab, dip and eat with our hands. We would have been a little more taken aback by the prospect of picking up our food with our hands if it weren’t for the fact that had already handled my sushi when plopping it in front of me and then again to show us how to eat it. In my mind, if it’s okay for him to pick up my food with his hands then my fingers should be fair game. The meal was a slight bit pricier than we anticipated, but the staff there was extremely friend and although we only ordered eight rolls each, they went ahead and gave us nine. They seemed to really appreciate having us there and we were more than happy to provide them with our company.
The night finished with some ice cream wrapped in crepes and some pictures of us in our Japanese pajamas before we snagged an early bedtime and prepared for our early departure to Hiroshima in the morning.
Today, we woke up a little bit later than we expected because our alarm didn’t work but it was a far from disheartening result. My eyes had opened to the world with the sound of torrential rain pattering in my ears and stark reality that the weather today might not work to our benefit. Knowing that we’ll only be in Hiroshima for the day and that our itinerary isn’t terribly demanding, we remain content with the trajectory of our Sunday thus far.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Greg's Visit
JULY 14TH, 2009 (Note to reader: Entry was started on July 14th but completed at a later date)
Tonight marks the first night that I will not be in the company of my good friend Greg Jablonski. As I write this entry he will either be enjoying a nightcap somewhere on his last night in Seoul or in a dimly lit dungeon, a mile underground and in the unforgiving grips of Kim Jong-Il’s blindly loyal military regime. Though his flight out of Seoul is scheduled for tomorrow I recently discovered that the plans he made with a new acquaintance from Canada that we met in my last night there to tour the DMZ today came to fruition. This brash decision to explore the most highly militarized border on the planet is a testament to his adventurous spirit and I’m glad he was able to do it, but my fingers are crossed for his safe return. For those of you at home, if a stout and scruffy gentleman, answering primarily to the name “Ox” should come across your path please be sure to bring him home- his friends and family will be worried.
Greg’s arrival brought an inauspicious start to his journey across the globe. Still without a cell phone and more than three months into my contract here, the demand for sharp action and precise planning was necessary to ensure a smooth transfer from the Gwangju bus terminal to my humble abode. Unfortunately, despite our best efforts, a great failure to meet at the appointed time occurred. While I arrived early and rushed to the point that I expected him to come through he somehow managed to elude my vigilant eyes. The consequence was a lot of waiting around and Greg’s eventual decision to stay the night at the Ramada that happened to be just down the street from my school. By then I’m sure he had just about thrown in the towel for meeting me that night but his last ditch effort to use the internet in the lobby of the hotel proved successful. While my concern for Greg and the assumption that he had been waylaid in Seoul entered my mind I too took a chance by paying a few won to log onto one of the bus terminal’s public computers. Fortunately, both of our decisions were made at roughly the same time and live contact was established. Though on slightly grumpy and exhausted terms, we were able to meet in the lobby of the Ramada sometime around the 2 o’clock hour. I had the pleasure of showing him the ridiculous proximity of my school to his lodgings as well as to his first Korean meal at a nice restaurant on the corner called McDonalds.
Before parting ways on that first night, we made plans to meet up for lunch outside of my school and from there he would be able to come in and observe my newly acquired Korean teaching methods. We did lunch with some of co-workers at a nearby “kimbap nara”, allowing him to actually taste some real Korean food. While no effort is spent on ambience or service at these kimbap shops, the price for the quantity and value along with the authentic Korean experience that it provides makes a place like this an extremely worthwhile visit.
After lunch, I was able to introduce him to my kindergarten class as we tackled the “science “part of our
curriculum. On that day, our undertaking was to demonstrate the reflective principle of a camera. As is the case with most of the sciences we deal with, the concept being dealt with was beyond the understanding of my kids and the work need to assemble everything was also impractical for them to complete alone. It was actually extremely lucky that Greg was there that day because I wasted no time putting him to work helping the students and were it not for that I don’t think we would have finished in time. The results of the camera science were interesting, although mixed, as some of the kids’ lenses showed upside down images of the world while others revealed little more than a dim light through an opaque film. The greatest success of the day was a noted sense of endearment that developed between my kids and “Grape” teacher of which I think we were both happy about.
For my first afternoon class, I took advantage of the fact that I was ahead of the workload with my class and let Greg take the reins. It was the idea of my Korean teacher to have the kids use their English to ask the Greg questions about him. At first, the questions were weak and scarce but as they grew more comfortable and confident the give and take between the two parties became more fluid and the English flowed more freely, if not inaccurately in many cases. For my later class, I think it was enjoyable for Greg to see how well they could actually speak and how easy it was to interact with them but, at the same time, it is a class where a lot of work is done and I gave him the nod to head upstairs to the office and take a break. After all, he had been flying for a day and half and jet lag was very real ailment at the time.
Perhaps the greatest thing about leaving on Wednesday in America and flying 18 hours to Korea is the fact that when you get there it’s already the weekend. By the time I was done with work at 7:20 and met back up with Greg upstairs, we were both ready to take on Friday night in Gwangju. Set on showing him some of the cornerstones of Korean nightlife right off the bat, I took him to dinner at the nearby corner Korean barbecue where we ordered the usual, supplemented with some local Korean beer and the country’s national liquor, soju. Delighted by a delicious dinner and the first real chance to catch up, we stuck around until our cheeks were a little bit redder than they started and set our sights on downtown Gwangju. The night brought us to a number of our local haunts, introducing Greg to the Korean bar that brews its own German-style beer and another one where we could play some pool and darts, varying from a largely foreign clientele to a mixed Korean/foreign crowd. While the memory of everything may vary in accuracy, the culmination of the evening actually occurred well into the morning hours when we were randomly invited to sit with a few Korean guys sitting at an outside bar on our way to take a cab home. Just as we though the night was over we found ourselves engulfed in a torrent of volleyed Korean and English. Essentially unable to understand each other from words alone, the need for charades and big gestures increased as we drank and the hilarity was palpable.
The only drawback of our evening’s prolonged festivities was, quite naturally, the next day. While a late start was far from the worst thing to happen to a visitor who needed his rest on a day when much of the activity was spent preparing for the Fourth of July celebration that night, it became necessary for much more time to be reserved for recovery than that. Chalked up, based on my extensive knowledge on these kinds of medical maladies, to a combination jetlag/ exhaustion, very authentic Korean food and a long night out, when Greg woke up that morning, he was a far cry from the floor-stomping, 100-meter dash record breaking Ox that many of us know so well. Some of us like to say that it was the soju that really did it, so that we can act like pseudo-natives who brag about being able to drink their home brews but either way, even as the morning and day got ready to turn into evening, our fallen comrade was not yet ready for it. To give my guest some well-deserved credit he did manage to make an appearance at our rooftop gala long enough to nurse a cheeseburger and meet some of my friends that he had yet to encounter up to this point. Tragically, his timing being what it was, he managed to miss the short visit made by a fellow son of Vernon, Matt Marion. Not having met him before, there was an odd familiarity that existed when I saw him simply through the knowledge that we shared common origins. It was just too bad we couldn’t have the trifecta sharing a beer and a burger beneath the setting sun of the Orient.
On my end, the night was yet another one that was very well spent. We decked out our rooftop with chairs, grills and music and while we only had a small handful of expected guests our popularity proved to be more far-reaching than we had initially realized. As the sun hovered above the not so distant mountains, we sat or stood talking about America, Korea and just about anything under the aforementioned ball of fire and gas. Perhaps the only real flaw to the whole plan was leaving yours truly in command of the grill for evening but even then, I think I managed an adequate performance. On the pro side, fireworks can be bought just about anywhere here without difficulty and they pretty much were. Even after a thorough display of roman candles, bottle rockets and a multitude of other incendiaries there still remain an assortment of fireworks sitting in random spots in my now overfilled apartment, compliments of the vast array of items that were conveniently stashed temporarily in my nearby abode.
The next day, Sunday, was my first opportunity to introduce Greg to Korea in the daylight. Unfortunately for me, Greg was going on a full day and night’s rest and ready to see this new world while I was still shedding the weight of the previous night from my eyelids. We managed to get ourselves our of the door sometime around noon or so and, after a quick lunch at Kimbap Nara, set forth towards downtown- a place he had been previously, but under much different pretexts. We spent some time looking for the Bermuda Triangle of bars that we had patronized in the dawning hours of Saturday but to no avail. Though Greg claims he saw one of the guys that we drank with on a later visit with one of my friends I am convinced that our experience was somewhat of a mix between Alice and Wonderland and The Twilight Zone. The obvious conclusion that I’ve come to is that this bar only exists when it is the one thing you want the most, otherwise it rests somewhere in limbo, awaiting the next party of dreamers to stumble upon it. Beside that, we just wandered through downtown where I showed him the market that sells anything from VERY fresh produce and seafood to knock-off Louis Vuitton (don’t worry, I google checked it for spelling accuracy) bags and furniture.
By the time we made it back from downtown it was somewhere around dinner time so I took him to my local favorite, California Sushi and Roll. It has reached the point that he trio of Terry, Chris and Liam have managed to acquire our own distinct “go-to” restaurants in our neighborhood- Terry has Kimbap Nara for his spicy and bubbling hot soup, Kimchi Jjigae, Chris has O.So where he can some get some Korean barbecued beef and I have my sushi place. The thing is, they never seem willing to go to my favorite spot so it was essential to bring my hometown pal to some of the best rolls he’s ever had. While red soup and raw cow meat may have an allure of their own, there is nothing like a roll of sushi shaped like a dragon with edible fire emanating from its mouth- trust me, Greg agrees. After that, we finished off his first weekend in Korea with a few pints and a few friends at our favorite local watering hole.
During the week, much of Greg’s activity that is worthy of retelling occurred while I was at work. While I could attempt to piecemeal a story together with what he told me about his adventures in Gwangju, I don’t believe myself up to the challenge and would be too afraid of delivering it in a way that is unbefitting this Quester of the Orient. Much of the story involved getting intentionally lost in the city and taking a journey to the outskirts for a leisurely hike in the mountains. Also, much of what was in his plans, which are ever wont to go awry, were bogged down by the advent of the Korean rainy season. He managed to arrive just as it began to get into full swing and it kept him pretty well grounded for the week. We did, however, have a few good nights out and one which was probably the most memorable of our the nights that didn’t fall on a weekend.
It’s customary for our directors to take the guests of their employees out to dinner during one of the nights that they are there. As luck would have it, Greg’s time here overlapped with an evening planned by them to take some of the Korean teachers out for some samgyeopsal- a korean barbecue dish of glorified bacon cut in thick slabs and served with a laundry list of sides. It was decided that Greg’s night would be that same night. Well beyond feeling miffed for not getting his own dinner, Greg rose to the occasion and helped make it a particularly socially redeeming night. Tucked in one corner, surrounded by Korean teachers and my bosses and ignoring the stiffness that comes with sitting cross-legged at a foot and a half high table, Greg, Terry, Chris, Charles (a new addition to LCI who hails from the beautiful county of Bergen, New Jersey) and I reveled in the company at hand. We shared glasses of soju and maekju (beer) as we toasted to the hauntingly sweet drinking melody that Greg brought with him from the shores of New Jersey known affectionately as “Drink Your Face Off”. While I admit I was a bit timid to introduce such a dirge myself to the said company in my three months here, after a few precursor toasts there were many who welcomed the refreshingly simple tune. It was a fitting compliment to the array of soju, maekju and “somaek” (a surprisingly pleasant mixture of beer and soju) that was being enjoyed by all. The night took us surprisingly well into the evening and, notwithstanding the mildly rough morning that awaited me the next day, it was a great time.
The following Friday had a typically late start, compliments of Chris and my 7:20 exit from the office and our garrulous ways. As we headed downstairs we made a stop at the main floor where we found Terry who, having the late shift, was still on the clock but without any classes left. To while his time away he was chatting it up with our director Manila. It took very little for us to fall into the trap that can easily extinguish a Friday night before it even starts- small talk. Still dinnerless as the minutes ticked away, the youthful evening began to age into its prime when Manila said she would have offered to buy us a beer if it weren’t for the fact that we still had to eat dinner. Fortunately, we were in a company of like minds who were willing to forego an evening of sustenance for the sake of a friendly invitation and, admittedly, a free beer. However, what emerged from this invitation was a beer that became the first of more. As we sipped on OB Blue and dined some bar food, we listened to Manila explaining how to date Korean girls and how to make sure we find the right one. Though he was only here for a week at that point, Manila had learned Greg’s nickname from home -Ox- and had labeled him with her own -Terminator- and used both interchangeably. We learned that night that Greg was strong-handsome and I, well, was just the regular kind. Still, after such discoveries, our other boss arrived and though I think he was aiming to go home managed to endure our company for awhile longer, for which we were all appreciative. Though unexpected, the first stop of the night that became the actual night was a welcome surprise. I got to boast to Greg about how great my bosses are while he got to boast about how strong and handsome he was. It was win-win.
A relatively quiet and early night on Friday opened the door for a relatively early start on Saturday which, thanks to a favor from Manila, would be the departure date for Greg and I to head to Seoul where I would be permitted to take a day from work and stay until Monday. After a quick meal at the reliable Kimbap Nara and some good-byes between Greg and his new friends, Chris and Terry, we hopped a cab and headed to the bus station. It was around dinnertime when we reached Seoul and settled into our hotel room, where Greg made an incredible entrance by screaming, in a joking tone, at me in the sound-proof revolving doors only for his sound-proofed window to close sometime before he was done with his scream. The first thing we heard from our would-be hosts for the next two nights (four, for him) was to please be quiet, accompanied with some less than friendly looks. In a city that neither of us had been to before and where my depressingly trivial knowledge of the Korean language was our main means of progressing our adventure forward, this wasn’t the start we were looking for. Thankfully, first impressions can sometimes be reconfigured.
Our first night in Seoul was spent relatively close to home-base for the sake of convenience and began at a restaurant that was advertised in our travel book as the Platinum Brewery- featuring a microbrewery of about seven different beers and a dinner buffet. When we arrived, we soon discovered that where the Platinum Brewery should have been was a place known simply as The Beer Factory. Not ones to split hairs, we proceeded downstairs to see what was in store.
The restaurant proved to be what we assumed was the successor of the Platinum Brewery. It looked like a what a place called Platinum brewery would look like minus the name on the door. Either way, it had what we were looking for. There were seven microbrews and a menu of Korean-German dishes. I have, by the way, come to the conclusion that Korea sees German bars in the same way that we see Irish pubs. I have already seen a few and they are the only places where I have seen more than two or three beers on tap and where they actually have their own beers. They probably figure if it’s German it must be good. But, I digress. Dinner with Gregory was enjoyable and the ambience was proper for a couple of old friends getting ready to part ways in a couple of days.
We spent an hour or two at the Beer Factory before we shoved off to see where the night would take us. Interestingly enough, it didn’t take us on all that exotic of a course to start. We trolled the streets for awhile looking for a suitable berth to make anchor but it seemed we that we were still too early and that we weren’t quite in the prime location for Saturday night activity. We decided that it was in our best interest to lay up for a little and hope that a couple of pints would inspire us to our next endeavor. Laughably, we wound up at a WA Bar somewhere on a side street which is a chain bar in Korea that exists, in abundance, in Gwangju. In fact, it was a WA Bar that housed the Friday night discussions the night before. It wasn’t exactly the best way to show off a new city and the house was pretty empty but the company was good and when we asked for a stout the menu said they had we ended up with a pair of Guinnesses in our midst. Not to be discouraged, we took these pints as a sign of things to come. It took some time for anything to happen but eventually a few Korean girls came in and we managed to start a conversation. Before we knew it, we were at a Nae-Rae-Bang or singing room. It would prove to be the second night, since my arrival in Korea, that I would submit others to the once Choral-caliber-gone-terribly-wrong voice of mine. While I apologized profusely in between breaths, the sympathetic encouragement kept me going. Greg did a little bit better than me but I still think we gave those girls something to shudder at for years to come.
The next day took us into the heart of the city, to a place called Insadong. As a recommendation from Manila, I think we were both extremely happy to have been pointed in this direction. Typically, Seoul is considered a much more international and less Korean city than a place like Gwangju but I would say that I, and I think most certainly Greg, got one of the most authentic feels of traditional Korean culture that we’ve had so far. We were able to check out some tea shops with some pretty impressive ceramic creations and got to sit down to a traditional Korean lunch decked out with rose tea and mandu and kimchi soup. Afterward, we were able walk through a market that was built on a large, spiraling ramp that continued a good four or five stories high. From there we could see a good portion of the city and glimpse the ever-present mountains rising up beyond the city limits.
As dusk began to fall and we had our fill of tea and kimchi, we headed into what the kids these days would call a “hipper” part of town. Not too far from a university, Greg and I hoped to send each other off in style. Oddly enough, it became another on of those nights where your first stop is expected to be the first of many but, instead, becomes your venue for the evening. For dinner, we went to a restaurant called The Pub where we, fittingly, got The Pub Pizza (We ate a surprising amount of pizza while Greg was in Korea) and a couple of beers. Happy with the food and the beer, as well as the restaurant itself that had an indoor feel but opened out into the street where we could observe the comings and goings of people passing by, we opted to sit tight for a little while. But anchored only temporarily by our food and beer, our eyes began to wander and contemplate our next move until Greg couldn’t help but notice that the two western-looking girls sitting at the next table over were speaking English at times and French at others. Intrigued, Greg politely asked for an explanation. Sure enough, they were French Canadian- one was in Korea as an English teacher and the other was a teacher back home visiting. To some readers, that coincidence is obvious but for others it becomes necessary for me to explain that Greg is a teacher back home. For those of you who have stumbled on this blog and somehow managed to have only read this paragraph I must also explain that I am an English teacher in Korea. Naturally, conversation erupted and we ended up talking with them for quite awhile. By the time they had left and it was just us two again, we were well situated at The Pub and it became bar the for the night.
The next day was a slow start. With the weather being what it was, an off and on rainfall, and with our plans for the day undecided, we ended up wandering through the streets of Myeongdong, another part of town in Seoul. This was a much more internationalized/Americanized part of the city which, for me was a welcome sight, and it was interesting to see the throngs of people out and about on a Monday afternoon/evening. The main event of the night was an early dinner at a, you guessed it, German-style bar called Bier Halle. Though we were, yet again, impressed by the ambience of the restaurant itself, we picked out two seats near a part of the room that jutted out and over the street with a window for a wall. We found it to be another place to enjoy a pint and some vittles while absorbing the scenes below. From there, Greg accompanied be to the bus station where we had a somewhat hectic time trying to figure out where the bus to Gwangju arrived. When we finally did, we found out the next bus left rather soon and Greg and I parted with a hug and handshake. For me, the next stop would be my place back here in Gwangju and for him, a one way ticket to the DMZ- the most heavily garrisoned border in the world- in the company of our newly-made Canadian friend.
But that story is not mine to tell…
Another post in the near future. This time I promise. Stories from next week’s trip to Japan await.
Tonight marks the first night that I will not be in the company of my good friend Greg Jablonski. As I write this entry he will either be enjoying a nightcap somewhere on his last night in Seoul or in a dimly lit dungeon, a mile underground and in the unforgiving grips of Kim Jong-Il’s blindly loyal military regime. Though his flight out of Seoul is scheduled for tomorrow I recently discovered that the plans he made with a new acquaintance from Canada that we met in my last night there to tour the DMZ today came to fruition. This brash decision to explore the most highly militarized border on the planet is a testament to his adventurous spirit and I’m glad he was able to do it, but my fingers are crossed for his safe return. For those of you at home, if a stout and scruffy gentleman, answering primarily to the name “Ox” should come across your path please be sure to bring him home- his friends and family will be worried.
Greg’s arrival brought an inauspicious start to his journey across the globe. Still without a cell phone and more than three months into my contract here, the demand for sharp action and precise planning was necessary to ensure a smooth transfer from the Gwangju bus terminal to my humble abode. Unfortunately, despite our best efforts, a great failure to meet at the appointed time occurred. While I arrived early and rushed to the point that I expected him to come through he somehow managed to elude my vigilant eyes. The consequence was a lot of waiting around and Greg’s eventual decision to stay the night at the Ramada that happened to be just down the street from my school. By then I’m sure he had just about thrown in the towel for meeting me that night but his last ditch effort to use the internet in the lobby of the hotel proved successful. While my concern for Greg and the assumption that he had been waylaid in Seoul entered my mind I too took a chance by paying a few won to log onto one of the bus terminal’s public computers. Fortunately, both of our decisions were made at roughly the same time and live contact was established. Though on slightly grumpy and exhausted terms, we were able to meet in the lobby of the Ramada sometime around the 2 o’clock hour. I had the pleasure of showing him the ridiculous proximity of my school to his lodgings as well as to his first Korean meal at a nice restaurant on the corner called McDonalds.
Before parting ways on that first night, we made plans to meet up for lunch outside of my school and from there he would be able to come in and observe my newly acquired Korean teaching methods. We did lunch with some of co-workers at a nearby “kimbap nara”, allowing him to actually taste some real Korean food. While no effort is spent on ambience or service at these kimbap shops, the price for the quantity and value along with the authentic Korean experience that it provides makes a place like this an extremely worthwhile visit.
After lunch, I was able to introduce him to my kindergarten class as we tackled the “science “part of our
curriculum. On that day, our undertaking was to demonstrate the reflective principle of a camera. As is the case with most of the sciences we deal with, the concept being dealt with was beyond the understanding of my kids and the work need to assemble everything was also impractical for them to complete alone. It was actually extremely lucky that Greg was there that day because I wasted no time putting him to work helping the students and were it not for that I don’t think we would have finished in time. The results of the camera science were interesting, although mixed, as some of the kids’ lenses showed upside down images of the world while others revealed little more than a dim light through an opaque film. The greatest success of the day was a noted sense of endearment that developed between my kids and “Grape” teacher of which I think we were both happy about.
For my first afternoon class, I took advantage of the fact that I was ahead of the workload with my class and let Greg take the reins. It was the idea of my Korean teacher to have the kids use their English to ask the Greg questions about him. At first, the questions were weak and scarce but as they grew more comfortable and confident the give and take between the two parties became more fluid and the English flowed more freely, if not inaccurately in many cases. For my later class, I think it was enjoyable for Greg to see how well they could actually speak and how easy it was to interact with them but, at the same time, it is a class where a lot of work is done and I gave him the nod to head upstairs to the office and take a break. After all, he had been flying for a day and half and jet lag was very real ailment at the time.
Perhaps the greatest thing about leaving on Wednesday in America and flying 18 hours to Korea is the fact that when you get there it’s already the weekend. By the time I was done with work at 7:20 and met back up with Greg upstairs, we were both ready to take on Friday night in Gwangju. Set on showing him some of the cornerstones of Korean nightlife right off the bat, I took him to dinner at the nearby corner Korean barbecue where we ordered the usual, supplemented with some local Korean beer and the country’s national liquor, soju. Delighted by a delicious dinner and the first real chance to catch up, we stuck around until our cheeks were a little bit redder than they started and set our sights on downtown Gwangju. The night brought us to a number of our local haunts, introducing Greg to the Korean bar that brews its own German-style beer and another one where we could play some pool and darts, varying from a largely foreign clientele to a mixed Korean/foreign crowd. While the memory of everything may vary in accuracy, the culmination of the evening actually occurred well into the morning hours when we were randomly invited to sit with a few Korean guys sitting at an outside bar on our way to take a cab home. Just as we though the night was over we found ourselves engulfed in a torrent of volleyed Korean and English. Essentially unable to understand each other from words alone, the need for charades and big gestures increased as we drank and the hilarity was palpable.
The only drawback of our evening’s prolonged festivities was, quite naturally, the next day. While a late start was far from the worst thing to happen to a visitor who needed his rest on a day when much of the activity was spent preparing for the Fourth of July celebration that night, it became necessary for much more time to be reserved for recovery than that. Chalked up, based on my extensive knowledge on these kinds of medical maladies, to a combination jetlag/ exhaustion, very authentic Korean food and a long night out, when Greg woke up that morning, he was a far cry from the floor-stomping, 100-meter dash record breaking Ox that many of us know so well. Some of us like to say that it was the soju that really did it, so that we can act like pseudo-natives who brag about being able to drink their home brews but either way, even as the morning and day got ready to turn into evening, our fallen comrade was not yet ready for it. To give my guest some well-deserved credit he did manage to make an appearance at our rooftop gala long enough to nurse a cheeseburger and meet some of my friends that he had yet to encounter up to this point. Tragically, his timing being what it was, he managed to miss the short visit made by a fellow son of Vernon, Matt Marion. Not having met him before, there was an odd familiarity that existed when I saw him simply through the knowledge that we shared common origins. It was just too bad we couldn’t have the trifecta sharing a beer and a burger beneath the setting sun of the Orient.
On my end, the night was yet another one that was very well spent. We decked out our rooftop with chairs, grills and music and while we only had a small handful of expected guests our popularity proved to be more far-reaching than we had initially realized. As the sun hovered above the not so distant mountains, we sat or stood talking about America, Korea and just about anything under the aforementioned ball of fire and gas. Perhaps the only real flaw to the whole plan was leaving yours truly in command of the grill for evening but even then, I think I managed an adequate performance. On the pro side, fireworks can be bought just about anywhere here without difficulty and they pretty much were. Even after a thorough display of roman candles, bottle rockets and a multitude of other incendiaries there still remain an assortment of fireworks sitting in random spots in my now overfilled apartment, compliments of the vast array of items that were conveniently stashed temporarily in my nearby abode.
The next day, Sunday, was my first opportunity to introduce Greg to Korea in the daylight. Unfortunately for me, Greg was going on a full day and night’s rest and ready to see this new world while I was still shedding the weight of the previous night from my eyelids. We managed to get ourselves our of the door sometime around noon or so and, after a quick lunch at Kimbap Nara, set forth towards downtown- a place he had been previously, but under much different pretexts. We spent some time looking for the Bermuda Triangle of bars that we had patronized in the dawning hours of Saturday but to no avail. Though Greg claims he saw one of the guys that we drank with on a later visit with one of my friends I am convinced that our experience was somewhat of a mix between Alice and Wonderland and The Twilight Zone. The obvious conclusion that I’ve come to is that this bar only exists when it is the one thing you want the most, otherwise it rests somewhere in limbo, awaiting the next party of dreamers to stumble upon it. Beside that, we just wandered through downtown where I showed him the market that sells anything from VERY fresh produce and seafood to knock-off Louis Vuitton (don’t worry, I google checked it for spelling accuracy) bags and furniture.
By the time we made it back from downtown it was somewhere around dinner time so I took him to my local favorite, California Sushi and Roll. It has reached the point that he trio of Terry, Chris and Liam have managed to acquire our own distinct “go-to” restaurants in our neighborhood- Terry has Kimbap Nara for his spicy and bubbling hot soup, Kimchi Jjigae, Chris has O.So where he can some get some Korean barbecued beef and I have my sushi place. The thing is, they never seem willing to go to my favorite spot so it was essential to bring my hometown pal to some of the best rolls he’s ever had. While red soup and raw cow meat may have an allure of their own, there is nothing like a roll of sushi shaped like a dragon with edible fire emanating from its mouth- trust me, Greg agrees. After that, we finished off his first weekend in Korea with a few pints and a few friends at our favorite local watering hole.
During the week, much of Greg’s activity that is worthy of retelling occurred while I was at work. While I could attempt to piecemeal a story together with what he told me about his adventures in Gwangju, I don’t believe myself up to the challenge and would be too afraid of delivering it in a way that is unbefitting this Quester of the Orient. Much of the story involved getting intentionally lost in the city and taking a journey to the outskirts for a leisurely hike in the mountains. Also, much of what was in his plans, which are ever wont to go awry, were bogged down by the advent of the Korean rainy season. He managed to arrive just as it began to get into full swing and it kept him pretty well grounded for the week. We did, however, have a few good nights out and one which was probably the most memorable of our the nights that didn’t fall on a weekend.
It’s customary for our directors to take the guests of their employees out to dinner during one of the nights that they are there. As luck would have it, Greg’s time here overlapped with an evening planned by them to take some of the Korean teachers out for some samgyeopsal- a korean barbecue dish of glorified bacon cut in thick slabs and served with a laundry list of sides. It was decided that Greg’s night would be that same night. Well beyond feeling miffed for not getting his own dinner, Greg rose to the occasion and helped make it a particularly socially redeeming night. Tucked in one corner, surrounded by Korean teachers and my bosses and ignoring the stiffness that comes with sitting cross-legged at a foot and a half high table, Greg, Terry, Chris, Charles (a new addition to LCI who hails from the beautiful county of Bergen, New Jersey) and I reveled in the company at hand. We shared glasses of soju and maekju (beer) as we toasted to the hauntingly sweet drinking melody that Greg brought with him from the shores of New Jersey known affectionately as “Drink Your Face Off”. While I admit I was a bit timid to introduce such a dirge myself to the said company in my three months here, after a few precursor toasts there were many who welcomed the refreshingly simple tune. It was a fitting compliment to the array of soju, maekju and “somaek” (a surprisingly pleasant mixture of beer and soju) that was being enjoyed by all. The night took us surprisingly well into the evening and, notwithstanding the mildly rough morning that awaited me the next day, it was a great time.
The following Friday had a typically late start, compliments of Chris and my 7:20 exit from the office and our garrulous ways. As we headed downstairs we made a stop at the main floor where we found Terry who, having the late shift, was still on the clock but without any classes left. To while his time away he was chatting it up with our director Manila. It took very little for us to fall into the trap that can easily extinguish a Friday night before it even starts- small talk. Still dinnerless as the minutes ticked away, the youthful evening began to age into its prime when Manila said she would have offered to buy us a beer if it weren’t for the fact that we still had to eat dinner. Fortunately, we were in a company of like minds who were willing to forego an evening of sustenance for the sake of a friendly invitation and, admittedly, a free beer. However, what emerged from this invitation was a beer that became the first of more. As we sipped on OB Blue and dined some bar food, we listened to Manila explaining how to date Korean girls and how to make sure we find the right one. Though he was only here for a week at that point, Manila had learned Greg’s nickname from home -Ox- and had labeled him with her own -Terminator- and used both interchangeably. We learned that night that Greg was strong-handsome and I, well, was just the regular kind. Still, after such discoveries, our other boss arrived and though I think he was aiming to go home managed to endure our company for awhile longer, for which we were all appreciative. Though unexpected, the first stop of the night that became the actual night was a welcome surprise. I got to boast to Greg about how great my bosses are while he got to boast about how strong and handsome he was. It was win-win.
A relatively quiet and early night on Friday opened the door for a relatively early start on Saturday which, thanks to a favor from Manila, would be the departure date for Greg and I to head to Seoul where I would be permitted to take a day from work and stay until Monday. After a quick meal at the reliable Kimbap Nara and some good-byes between Greg and his new friends, Chris and Terry, we hopped a cab and headed to the bus station. It was around dinnertime when we reached Seoul and settled into our hotel room, where Greg made an incredible entrance by screaming, in a joking tone, at me in the sound-proof revolving doors only for his sound-proofed window to close sometime before he was done with his scream. The first thing we heard from our would-be hosts for the next two nights (four, for him) was to please be quiet, accompanied with some less than friendly looks. In a city that neither of us had been to before and where my depressingly trivial knowledge of the Korean language was our main means of progressing our adventure forward, this wasn’t the start we were looking for. Thankfully, first impressions can sometimes be reconfigured.
Our first night in Seoul was spent relatively close to home-base for the sake of convenience and began at a restaurant that was advertised in our travel book as the Platinum Brewery- featuring a microbrewery of about seven different beers and a dinner buffet. When we arrived, we soon discovered that where the Platinum Brewery should have been was a place known simply as The Beer Factory. Not ones to split hairs, we proceeded downstairs to see what was in store.
The restaurant proved to be what we assumed was the successor of the Platinum Brewery. It looked like a what a place called Platinum brewery would look like minus the name on the door. Either way, it had what we were looking for. There were seven microbrews and a menu of Korean-German dishes. I have, by the way, come to the conclusion that Korea sees German bars in the same way that we see Irish pubs. I have already seen a few and they are the only places where I have seen more than two or three beers on tap and where they actually have their own beers. They probably figure if it’s German it must be good. But, I digress. Dinner with Gregory was enjoyable and the ambience was proper for a couple of old friends getting ready to part ways in a couple of days.
We spent an hour or two at the Beer Factory before we shoved off to see where the night would take us. Interestingly enough, it didn’t take us on all that exotic of a course to start. We trolled the streets for awhile looking for a suitable berth to make anchor but it seemed we that we were still too early and that we weren’t quite in the prime location for Saturday night activity. We decided that it was in our best interest to lay up for a little and hope that a couple of pints would inspire us to our next endeavor. Laughably, we wound up at a WA Bar somewhere on a side street which is a chain bar in Korea that exists, in abundance, in Gwangju. In fact, it was a WA Bar that housed the Friday night discussions the night before. It wasn’t exactly the best way to show off a new city and the house was pretty empty but the company was good and when we asked for a stout the menu said they had we ended up with a pair of Guinnesses in our midst. Not to be discouraged, we took these pints as a sign of things to come. It took some time for anything to happen but eventually a few Korean girls came in and we managed to start a conversation. Before we knew it, we were at a Nae-Rae-Bang or singing room. It would prove to be the second night, since my arrival in Korea, that I would submit others to the once Choral-caliber-gone-terribly-wrong voice of mine. While I apologized profusely in between breaths, the sympathetic encouragement kept me going. Greg did a little bit better than me but I still think we gave those girls something to shudder at for years to come.
The next day took us into the heart of the city, to a place called Insadong. As a recommendation from Manila, I think we were both extremely happy to have been pointed in this direction. Typically, Seoul is considered a much more international and less Korean city than a place like Gwangju but I would say that I, and I think most certainly Greg, got one of the most authentic feels of traditional Korean culture that we’ve had so far. We were able to check out some tea shops with some pretty impressive ceramic creations and got to sit down to a traditional Korean lunch decked out with rose tea and mandu and kimchi soup. Afterward, we were able walk through a market that was built on a large, spiraling ramp that continued a good four or five stories high. From there we could see a good portion of the city and glimpse the ever-present mountains rising up beyond the city limits.
As dusk began to fall and we had our fill of tea and kimchi, we headed into what the kids these days would call a “hipper” part of town. Not too far from a university, Greg and I hoped to send each other off in style. Oddly enough, it became another on of those nights where your first stop is expected to be the first of many but, instead, becomes your venue for the evening. For dinner, we went to a restaurant called The Pub where we, fittingly, got The Pub Pizza (We ate a surprising amount of pizza while Greg was in Korea) and a couple of beers. Happy with the food and the beer, as well as the restaurant itself that had an indoor feel but opened out into the street where we could observe the comings and goings of people passing by, we opted to sit tight for a little while. But anchored only temporarily by our food and beer, our eyes began to wander and contemplate our next move until Greg couldn’t help but notice that the two western-looking girls sitting at the next table over were speaking English at times and French at others. Intrigued, Greg politely asked for an explanation. Sure enough, they were French Canadian- one was in Korea as an English teacher and the other was a teacher back home visiting. To some readers, that coincidence is obvious but for others it becomes necessary for me to explain that Greg is a teacher back home. For those of you who have stumbled on this blog and somehow managed to have only read this paragraph I must also explain that I am an English teacher in Korea. Naturally, conversation erupted and we ended up talking with them for quite awhile. By the time they had left and it was just us two again, we were well situated at The Pub and it became bar the for the night.
The next day was a slow start. With the weather being what it was, an off and on rainfall, and with our plans for the day undecided, we ended up wandering through the streets of Myeongdong, another part of town in Seoul. This was a much more internationalized/Americanized part of the city which, for me was a welcome sight, and it was interesting to see the throngs of people out and about on a Monday afternoon/evening. The main event of the night was an early dinner at a, you guessed it, German-style bar called Bier Halle. Though we were, yet again, impressed by the ambience of the restaurant itself, we picked out two seats near a part of the room that jutted out and over the street with a window for a wall. We found it to be another place to enjoy a pint and some vittles while absorbing the scenes below. From there, Greg accompanied be to the bus station where we had a somewhat hectic time trying to figure out where the bus to Gwangju arrived. When we finally did, we found out the next bus left rather soon and Greg and I parted with a hug and handshake. For me, the next stop would be my place back here in Gwangju and for him, a one way ticket to the DMZ- the most heavily garrisoned border in the world- in the company of our newly-made Canadian friend.
But that story is not mine to tell…
Another post in the near future. This time I promise. Stories from next week’s trip to Japan await.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
The following are two excerpts from the journal of an embattled soldier during the major days and following aftermath of the conflict known to the history books as “Liam’s Last Stand”. Occurring in the last days of June, during Liam’s venture to the Orient, the following journal is the only documented proof of the invasion of flies that almost caused him to lose his kitchen forever…
June 19th, 2009- Excerpt from the journal of Liam Quinn (Private First Class, Bravo Company) during the early days of the Black Korea Campaign’s final counter-offensive.
Days have turned to weeks and the enemy has been quiet. They cut off our supply lines in their initial attack. They arrived with a small reconnaissance force. While their presence was unwelcome, the potential for coexistence existed at first. However, it didn’t take long for them to capitalize on our (my) indifferent hospitality. After gaining a foothold on my window they began their advance. The ceiling was their next point of occupation. Looking back it may have been possible to have repelled the invasion before it took its full form but we (I) had neither the resources to observe their full activity or the necessary artillery to make an effective counter-offensive. The result was a swift and absolute defeat for the defenders (us [me]). It became rapidly evident that it would be essential to evacuate all necessary personnel and fall back to a more fortified position. So as to ensure a safe and complete retreat, measures were taken to seal off the already forfeited territories and accept them as losses. Our defeat was neither dignified or affordable at a time like this, but a true general knows when to withdraw when the hope of victory has vanished.
Since the infamous Rout at Culinary Pass, a more sophisticated system of surveillance has been instituted and a number of forays into the occupied territories have been attempted. Our initial incursion into No Man’s Land was complimented with added firepower from my ally Chris. Equipped with nothing more than a half-empty Glade can and love for our homeland, we sallied into the forsaken unknown with hopes of not regaining our ground but to discover just what it was we were up against. Early estimates were desperately discouraging as the number of enemy units began to swell along the barricade separating the newly partitioned territories. The assumption was that a suitable base of operations had already been established by the enemy and that prospects of venturing further were being discussed by the brass of their outfit. It would be this early probe mission that would confirm or discredit those initial assumptions. Upon parting the only barrier differentiating us between preservation and peril we entered onto an unsettlingly dark and quiet scene. The occasional enemy could be seen hovering indifferently across the small room, paying no attention to the presence of hostile forces. Perhaps emboldened by the apparent apathy of the enemy or maybe just overwhelmed by the eerie stillness that engulfed us, my comrade-in-arms relinquished a barrage of fresh scented lemon at a nearby group of idle enemies so as to cripple any attempt at retaliation. A faint inkling of possible success crept into our minds before it was utterly crushed by the realization of our worst fears. In response to Chris’ hostile gesture, a cloud of black emerged from the opposite windowsill, accompanied by a crescendo of menacing buzzes and we were soon overpowered by virtue of their speed and might. Retreat was our only course and it was done so in the wake of a most disturbing revelation- defeat was closer than we could have imagined.
The campaign has seen little change since our exploration of the enemy holdings. The number of sentries posted on the opposite side of the barrier has ranged from startling to unnoticeable. Endeavors behind enemy lines since our first attempt have brought mixed results and have been met with equal concern for reconnaissance and removal of once friendly resources that, with time, could only bolster the conviction of the opposition. At times, the diminished number of visible enemy forces has made it appear as though there may be some internal strife within their camp. It can only be hoped that their sinister warmongering meets its end by their own hands. Should the time for our side to take sterner action arrive, I shudder at the consequences. We have taken measures to encourage internal weakness by introducing a number of fresh-smelling and air-drying elements into their environment. It can only be hoped that this as far as it needs to be taken…
… torn pages and fragments are all that remain of the private’s compositions detailing the days between July 19th and July 26th. Further inspection of the assumed location of the most heated parts of the conflict lead us to conclude that there was a flurry of skirmishes and hostilities in these days…
July 26th, 2009- Excerpt from the journal of Liam Quinn (Lieutenant, Bravo Company) during the final days of the Black Korea Campaign.
Like the mist rising from the hills after the night of a tempest the cloud of black has lifted from our besieged lands. The men rejoice and in time the laughter and mirth that had been silenced will return. Our tactical purge of the enemy has seen resounding success. They could not endure our retributive incursions and just as they came they were forced to beat a hurried retreat to whatever realm of blackness they hailed from. Much work will be needed to reclaim the territories and return them to their original state and the fear of the enemies return still looms in the clearing air, but for now we breathe a sigh of relief. War is over.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To be honest, I did think my kitchen was in serious peril. With the summer months only just arriving and the flies coming in at full force I was partially willing to accept the sacrifice for a couple of months. I don’t cook all that much in there and it wasn’t so uninhabitable that I couldn’t get to the fridge for what few things I needed to keep cool. However, I was informed that this kind of thing was somewhat common and, while I think I got it worse than most, there are a number of things that can be done to limit the amount of flies hanging out in your apartment. One of the major issues with the kitchen is that the sink’s pipes don’t work terribly well and any piece of food that gets in there, no matter how small, will simply stay there. Also, the way the kitchen is laid out, it can get rather hot and humid as it is and so making it an ideal spot for some opportunistic winged insects. Either way, it didn’t take much more than a solid cleaning and some products from the local mini-stop to address the issue. So for those of you who were worried about that courageous private you just read about, don’t worry too much, sounds like he’s doing just fine now. It actually sounds like he was a little more dramatic than he needed to be.
In the world of LCI Academy, I had Parent-Teacher Conferences two weekends ago (yeah, it’s been that long since my last post) and they actually went much better than I had expected. My first one was during the week and it didn’t go as well as I would have hoped. It was, by no means bad, but the Korean Parent-Teacher conference goes considerably differently than one back in the states, especially when there is a language barrier. While it was nice to have a Korean teacher to mediate and, at times, pretty much speak for me, it definitely took away from the parent-teacher aspect of the whole experience. Every time the parent fielded me a question I would attempt to answer the question to the best of my ability but in all reality the only thing being conveyed to the parent is the general idea of what I’m saying. The basic pattern of the conversation involved the question from the parent, an answer from me, and then a long-winded interpretation that would put a reverse Godzilla translation to shame. What I said in the span of a minute or two lasted anywhere between five and ten minutes from my Korean teacher’s mouth. There were actually times where I heard laughing between the two and other times when I heard the parent actually say something else and the Korean teacher responded without conferring with me. I do realize that sometimes I’m more humorous than I even realize and I’m sure jokes of my caliber translate perfectly well, but I’m still pretty sure my Korean teacher was slipping some of her own material into my response. Also, the Korean teacher that was translating for me wasn’t actually the one that I work with in class so I’m rather impressed that at her ability to make informed responses to the parents without checking with yours truly.
As for the questions themselves, they tend be geared towards who their child gets along with in the class, whether he or she is the best in the class and where they sit in the classroom. While these are pretty pressing matters I did expect questions of a different type. For my first interview, these kinds of things were somewhat unknown to me so I may not have rallied to the moment as well as I could have, but it still went well enough. My first one on Saturday was a bit difficult because of a misunderstanding about something that happened between her son and another student in class but once it was resolved it went rather well. For the rest of the interviews, proper preparation allowed them to go much more smoothly and I actually enjoyed meeting the parents of the children I was teaching. A couple of the parents were actually proficient enough in English to make a direct conversation more or less possible. On top of that, I came away with a 50,000 won gift certificate to the ironically stereotypical American restaurant- The Outback Steakhouse.
For those of you keeping up with my “weekly” (well, bi-monthly with an insert somewhere in between) you will know that I’ve been commissioned with the care of one of the more advanced classes for on of my afternoon sessions. It seems that the competitive nature of private English Institutes in Korea creates a great degree of pressure for the school to ensure top performance from their top students. With some recent questions from the parents of my students about the new teacher that has taken over their children’s class there have been plans made for an open class to be made available to any parent interested in observing an actual class. This also means a critical observation from the director of the school, as well, to make sure he thinks the class is in suitable order to be seen by concerned parents. The news is a little disconcerting but, at the same time, I don’t think I’m terribly concerned. The kids are pretty smart and I’m pretty confident that I can at least make it LOOK like I’m a good teacher.
Bringing us up to this weekend, we regrettably had our head English teacher- the teacher that recruited me- part ways with the school after7 good years of service. As a particularly approachable and accountable individual it’s an unfortunate event. However, as all stormy clouds are want to have, there was a substantial silver lining in all of this. To honor his dedication and service it was only natural for our school to celebrate him the way it knows best- ANOTHER ROOF PARTY! Although the weather did not cooperate with us enough to manage an actual roof party, we brought the festivities were brought indoors and were, yet again, thoroughly enjoyable.
Though the party had been planned a few weeks in advance, sometime about the week before the party, it was decided that it would be costume party. While my initial plan was to come as the relentless guide that treated us like galley slaves on the rafting trip, a trip downtown with my compatriots Chris and Terry brought us to the idea of dressing like three of the older employees who, much like us, are three friends who spend a good deal of time together. In my mind it would be somewhat Seinfeld-esque and for that alone I was able to abandon my initial plan and jump on board with the new one. Our arrival was met with a good deal of hilarity accented by a touch of resentment from those of whom we had imitated. The party was highlighted by the introduction of a drinking game known as caps that, for me, was a welcome reminder of home where I was first exposed to the game. However, for the party as a whole, it will be well remembered mostly for the fireworks that the three of us bought while looking for our costumes which, interestingly enough, can be found in a typical supermarket just like anything else. While it may have been more exciting to have had to sneak across the DMZ to obtain these celebratory incendiaries, I wasn’t unhappy about this convenience.
In the hodgepodge of recent events I finally joined a gym over here. Well, I actually joined awhile ago but haven’t managed to throw it into my blog yet to make me look cool. I got a pretty cheap year contract but the gym itself makes the Vernon High School gym, even before being restocked, look pretty appealing. Still, it will do for the time. I also recently took a trip out to the Outback Steakhouse with a couple of friends to make use of the aforementioned gift certificate. It was nice having a steak and baked potato in “familiar” environs but an Outback, in the middle of Korea, still doesn’t have the same taste as home. On top of that, I was there with a Brit, who had never been to an Outback before anyway ( I kid Terry). Still, we didn’t hate sitting down to a well-cooked dinner, accompanied with a fine bottle of Australian wine and some good conversation. However, a return trip may take some time in light of it’s costliness.
On top of all previous hodgepodge news, the two most prominent stories in my recent history come from the US’s National Soccer Team and my good friend Greg Jablonski. After pulling off a stunning last game miracle against Egypt to reach the semi-finals of the Confederation Cup over Italy, our dear boys from the states took the World’s game to a new level when they beat the Spaniards 9 (the globe’s number 1 ranked team) 2-0 in the friendly confines of Loftus Versfeld, a stadium in South Africa that will help host the 2010 World Cup. In addition, I was recently informed that the one and only Greg Jablonski will be visiting me here in Gwangju for the span of two weeks. It will be a rather welcome change for me to see a familiar face way out here and I look forward to showing him what Korea has to offer. I will do my best to keep you posted about that as things happen- buuuut no promises.
Also, the Kia Tigers are in third and look like a team that has its sights on something better!
So just in time to avoid the flood of demands for new posts, which have already begun to trickle in, I present to you the close of my June 26th post on SoKo and Liam. I go to bed dreaming of Stars and Stripes.
June 19th, 2009- Excerpt from the journal of Liam Quinn (Private First Class, Bravo Company) during the early days of the Black Korea Campaign’s final counter-offensive.
Days have turned to weeks and the enemy has been quiet. They cut off our supply lines in their initial attack. They arrived with a small reconnaissance force. While their presence was unwelcome, the potential for coexistence existed at first. However, it didn’t take long for them to capitalize on our (my) indifferent hospitality. After gaining a foothold on my window they began their advance. The ceiling was their next point of occupation. Looking back it may have been possible to have repelled the invasion before it took its full form but we (I) had neither the resources to observe their full activity or the necessary artillery to make an effective counter-offensive. The result was a swift and absolute defeat for the defenders (us [me]). It became rapidly evident that it would be essential to evacuate all necessary personnel and fall back to a more fortified position. So as to ensure a safe and complete retreat, measures were taken to seal off the already forfeited territories and accept them as losses. Our defeat was neither dignified or affordable at a time like this, but a true general knows when to withdraw when the hope of victory has vanished.
Since the infamous Rout at Culinary Pass, a more sophisticated system of surveillance has been instituted and a number of forays into the occupied territories have been attempted. Our initial incursion into No Man’s Land was complimented with added firepower from my ally Chris. Equipped with nothing more than a half-empty Glade can and love for our homeland, we sallied into the forsaken unknown with hopes of not regaining our ground but to discover just what it was we were up against. Early estimates were desperately discouraging as the number of enemy units began to swell along the barricade separating the newly partitioned territories. The assumption was that a suitable base of operations had already been established by the enemy and that prospects of venturing further were being discussed by the brass of their outfit. It would be this early probe mission that would confirm or discredit those initial assumptions. Upon parting the only barrier differentiating us between preservation and peril we entered onto an unsettlingly dark and quiet scene. The occasional enemy could be seen hovering indifferently across the small room, paying no attention to the presence of hostile forces. Perhaps emboldened by the apparent apathy of the enemy or maybe just overwhelmed by the eerie stillness that engulfed us, my comrade-in-arms relinquished a barrage of fresh scented lemon at a nearby group of idle enemies so as to cripple any attempt at retaliation. A faint inkling of possible success crept into our minds before it was utterly crushed by the realization of our worst fears. In response to Chris’ hostile gesture, a cloud of black emerged from the opposite windowsill, accompanied by a crescendo of menacing buzzes and we were soon overpowered by virtue of their speed and might. Retreat was our only course and it was done so in the wake of a most disturbing revelation- defeat was closer than we could have imagined.
The campaign has seen little change since our exploration of the enemy holdings. The number of sentries posted on the opposite side of the barrier has ranged from startling to unnoticeable. Endeavors behind enemy lines since our first attempt have brought mixed results and have been met with equal concern for reconnaissance and removal of once friendly resources that, with time, could only bolster the conviction of the opposition. At times, the diminished number of visible enemy forces has made it appear as though there may be some internal strife within their camp. It can only be hoped that their sinister warmongering meets its end by their own hands. Should the time for our side to take sterner action arrive, I shudder at the consequences. We have taken measures to encourage internal weakness by introducing a number of fresh-smelling and air-drying elements into their environment. It can only be hoped that this as far as it needs to be taken…
… torn pages and fragments are all that remain of the private’s compositions detailing the days between July 19th and July 26th. Further inspection of the assumed location of the most heated parts of the conflict lead us to conclude that there was a flurry of skirmishes and hostilities in these days…
July 26th, 2009- Excerpt from the journal of Liam Quinn (Lieutenant, Bravo Company) during the final days of the Black Korea Campaign.
Like the mist rising from the hills after the night of a tempest the cloud of black has lifted from our besieged lands. The men rejoice and in time the laughter and mirth that had been silenced will return. Our tactical purge of the enemy has seen resounding success. They could not endure our retributive incursions and just as they came they were forced to beat a hurried retreat to whatever realm of blackness they hailed from. Much work will be needed to reclaim the territories and return them to their original state and the fear of the enemies return still looms in the clearing air, but for now we breathe a sigh of relief. War is over.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To be honest, I did think my kitchen was in serious peril. With the summer months only just arriving and the flies coming in at full force I was partially willing to accept the sacrifice for a couple of months. I don’t cook all that much in there and it wasn’t so uninhabitable that I couldn’t get to the fridge for what few things I needed to keep cool. However, I was informed that this kind of thing was somewhat common and, while I think I got it worse than most, there are a number of things that can be done to limit the amount of flies hanging out in your apartment. One of the major issues with the kitchen is that the sink’s pipes don’t work terribly well and any piece of food that gets in there, no matter how small, will simply stay there. Also, the way the kitchen is laid out, it can get rather hot and humid as it is and so making it an ideal spot for some opportunistic winged insects. Either way, it didn’t take much more than a solid cleaning and some products from the local mini-stop to address the issue. So for those of you who were worried about that courageous private you just read about, don’t worry too much, sounds like he’s doing just fine now. It actually sounds like he was a little more dramatic than he needed to be.
In the world of LCI Academy, I had Parent-Teacher Conferences two weekends ago (yeah, it’s been that long since my last post) and they actually went much better than I had expected. My first one was during the week and it didn’t go as well as I would have hoped. It was, by no means bad, but the Korean Parent-Teacher conference goes considerably differently than one back in the states, especially when there is a language barrier. While it was nice to have a Korean teacher to mediate and, at times, pretty much speak for me, it definitely took away from the parent-teacher aspect of the whole experience. Every time the parent fielded me a question I would attempt to answer the question to the best of my ability but in all reality the only thing being conveyed to the parent is the general idea of what I’m saying. The basic pattern of the conversation involved the question from the parent, an answer from me, and then a long-winded interpretation that would put a reverse Godzilla translation to shame. What I said in the span of a minute or two lasted anywhere between five and ten minutes from my Korean teacher’s mouth. There were actually times where I heard laughing between the two and other times when I heard the parent actually say something else and the Korean teacher responded without conferring with me. I do realize that sometimes I’m more humorous than I even realize and I’m sure jokes of my caliber translate perfectly well, but I’m still pretty sure my Korean teacher was slipping some of her own material into my response. Also, the Korean teacher that was translating for me wasn’t actually the one that I work with in class so I’m rather impressed that at her ability to make informed responses to the parents without checking with yours truly.
As for the questions themselves, they tend be geared towards who their child gets along with in the class, whether he or she is the best in the class and where they sit in the classroom. While these are pretty pressing matters I did expect questions of a different type. For my first interview, these kinds of things were somewhat unknown to me so I may not have rallied to the moment as well as I could have, but it still went well enough. My first one on Saturday was a bit difficult because of a misunderstanding about something that happened between her son and another student in class but once it was resolved it went rather well. For the rest of the interviews, proper preparation allowed them to go much more smoothly and I actually enjoyed meeting the parents of the children I was teaching. A couple of the parents were actually proficient enough in English to make a direct conversation more or less possible. On top of that, I came away with a 50,000 won gift certificate to the ironically stereotypical American restaurant- The Outback Steakhouse.
For those of you keeping up with my “weekly” (well, bi-monthly with an insert somewhere in between) you will know that I’ve been commissioned with the care of one of the more advanced classes for on of my afternoon sessions. It seems that the competitive nature of private English Institutes in Korea creates a great degree of pressure for the school to ensure top performance from their top students. With some recent questions from the parents of my students about the new teacher that has taken over their children’s class there have been plans made for an open class to be made available to any parent interested in observing an actual class. This also means a critical observation from the director of the school, as well, to make sure he thinks the class is in suitable order to be seen by concerned parents. The news is a little disconcerting but, at the same time, I don’t think I’m terribly concerned. The kids are pretty smart and I’m pretty confident that I can at least make it LOOK like I’m a good teacher.
Bringing us up to this weekend, we regrettably had our head English teacher- the teacher that recruited me- part ways with the school after7 good years of service. As a particularly approachable and accountable individual it’s an unfortunate event. However, as all stormy clouds are want to have, there was a substantial silver lining in all of this. To honor his dedication and service it was only natural for our school to celebrate him the way it knows best- ANOTHER ROOF PARTY! Although the weather did not cooperate with us enough to manage an actual roof party, we brought the festivities were brought indoors and were, yet again, thoroughly enjoyable.
Though the party had been planned a few weeks in advance, sometime about the week before the party, it was decided that it would be costume party. While my initial plan was to come as the relentless guide that treated us like galley slaves on the rafting trip, a trip downtown with my compatriots Chris and Terry brought us to the idea of dressing like three of the older employees who, much like us, are three friends who spend a good deal of time together. In my mind it would be somewhat Seinfeld-esque and for that alone I was able to abandon my initial plan and jump on board with the new one. Our arrival was met with a good deal of hilarity accented by a touch of resentment from those of whom we had imitated. The party was highlighted by the introduction of a drinking game known as caps that, for me, was a welcome reminder of home where I was first exposed to the game. However, for the party as a whole, it will be well remembered mostly for the fireworks that the three of us bought while looking for our costumes which, interestingly enough, can be found in a typical supermarket just like anything else. While it may have been more exciting to have had to sneak across the DMZ to obtain these celebratory incendiaries, I wasn’t unhappy about this convenience.
In the hodgepodge of recent events I finally joined a gym over here. Well, I actually joined awhile ago but haven’t managed to throw it into my blog yet to make me look cool. I got a pretty cheap year contract but the gym itself makes the Vernon High School gym, even before being restocked, look pretty appealing. Still, it will do for the time. I also recently took a trip out to the Outback Steakhouse with a couple of friends to make use of the aforementioned gift certificate. It was nice having a steak and baked potato in “familiar” environs but an Outback, in the middle of Korea, still doesn’t have the same taste as home. On top of that, I was there with a Brit, who had never been to an Outback before anyway ( I kid Terry). Still, we didn’t hate sitting down to a well-cooked dinner, accompanied with a fine bottle of Australian wine and some good conversation. However, a return trip may take some time in light of it’s costliness.
On top of all previous hodgepodge news, the two most prominent stories in my recent history come from the US’s National Soccer Team and my good friend Greg Jablonski. After pulling off a stunning last game miracle against Egypt to reach the semi-finals of the Confederation Cup over Italy, our dear boys from the states took the World’s game to a new level when they beat the Spaniards 9 (the globe’s number 1 ranked team) 2-0 in the friendly confines of Loftus Versfeld, a stadium in South Africa that will help host the 2010 World Cup. In addition, I was recently informed that the one and only Greg Jablonski will be visiting me here in Gwangju for the span of two weeks. It will be a rather welcome change for me to see a familiar face way out here and I look forward to showing him what Korea has to offer. I will do my best to keep you posted about that as things happen- buuuut no promises.
Also, the Kia Tigers are in third and look like a team that has its sights on something better!
So just in time to avoid the flood of demands for new posts, which have already begun to trickle in, I present to you the close of my June 26th post on SoKo and Liam. I go to bed dreaming of Stars and Stripes.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
I'm sure many of you scoffed at the prospect of me writing my next post in a more timely fashion than my past few entries and it seems I have given you good reason to do so. My plan to post every two or three days or so has been, as of yet, a mere dream. I apologize to all my readers, both stalwart and casual. Though I don't aim to make any promises, I urge you to not give up hope. I still may manage to establish some kind of regularity for this thing in the future.
The Korean humidity that I have heard so much about before this has begun its descent onto the urban confines of Gwangju Metropolitan City. It's still rather bearable but from what I understand it's still the beginning. I'm pretty thankful for the six sticks of Old Spice that I toted over here with me at the beginning of this trip. I imagine such foresight will pay considerable dividends in the future.
I've been having some pretty good times with my class which, I forgot to mention, is called Princeton Class. I couldn't help but smile at my fortune early on when the one guy from Jersey scored the class with the namesake of the Ivy League school that no one from that state actually attends. However, as much as I've been enjoying my class, they have also seen the sterner side of Liam Teacher. It's a regrettable affair when I have to act that way with the kids but I do it cuz I care.
As per usual, the highlight of my activity here in the Orient took place on the weekend. On Friday a few of us accompanied one of the directors to the grocery store to purchase some essentials for the planned white water rafting trip that the school would be hosting the next day. After being used for some heavy lifting and transportation labor, the director took us out for some Bunda jjigae. Now, bunda jjigae is technically considered Korean cuisine but in all reality it's pretty much just hotdog and spam soup made with ramen noodles. Of course, ramen here holds a much more reputable place in the Korean eye but I couldn't help but think that this kind of soup could have just as easily originated in a college dorm one late night as opposed to blossoming as a common dish of the South Korean nation. Keeping with Korean tradition, we complimented our meal with some maekju- beer -, but in a very conservative manner. Fully aware of the physically demanding day that lay before us, we saw it in our best interest to make it a quiet night. After an enjoyable meal, the night ended with the purchase of a few supersoakers to be unleashed on the unsuspecting bodies of those in our rafting company and we went our separate ways.
The next day began with a two hour drive out of Gwangju in a rather comfortable coach bus, occupied mostly with the activity, or inactivity, of sleep. Upon our arrival we were a bit discomfited by our welcome from the notably austere directors at the rafting site. We were very rapidly beset by a fusillade of whistles directing us to stand in four lines as we were given our standard issue life jackets, helmets and oars.Though we were assured that the activity of the day was rafting, it entered the minds of not a few of us that maybe we had wandered a little too far north, maybe beyond the stiffly guarded DMZ. For the most part, those oars of ours were probably not a far cry from what those armed hooligans up north were equipped with. The day continued in its oddly regimented manner as we got ready to launch our inflated aquatic vessels. Our raft director had the members of our crew wade into the water before boarding the raft. We assumed it was for the purpose of acclimating us to the river water. Initially, this was not much of a problem. However, this peculiar exercise of arbitrary authority became less agreeable when he had us link arms and dip up and down in the water as he chanted "1-down! 2- up!" as though he was conditioning us for a greater ordeal than a lazy trek down a meandering river. Looks of confusion began to be exchanged when we realized that the other crews of rafts we came with were getting set to make for open water while we, at that point, were lying on our backs in the water, floating away, accommodating yet another demand from our fascist facilitator. When we did actually start our trip downriver, the orders rang even more loudly in our ears. Much like galley slaves, we were urged on by the piercing shouts of our unelected "captain" who would, apparently, be accompanying us for the duration of the trip. In between his pacing shouts of "one, two", our progress was slowed by the regular demand for us to to stop and get back into rhythm or to bounce back and forth on the raft to release us from the hold of a random rock. Knowing that our commander knew very little English, the murmurs of discontent that passed among the surly crew became particularly audible and the idea of mutiny, even if in jest, was passed around freely. Luckily, for both parties, as the river opened up a little bit, we were permitted to abandon ship and take the rapids individually. Thought a little painful, this was a much more enjoyable way to take to the river than to subject ourselves to the constant reprimands and remonstrances of our skipper.
By the time we had reached our destination downriver we were in considerably better spirits if not a little worse for wear. At this point our opinion of our unbending instructors softened a little bit when they flipped a pair of the rafts and lined them up so as to construct something of a pontoon bridge that led to nowhere. Naturally, as I discovered that their purpose was for one of us step up and jump off the end of this bridge, I was ready and willing. From there, we were able to let, coax and coerce a number of other people to attempt the same thing and so began one of the more light-hearted and spirited parts of the day.
Having had our fill of leaping aimlessly into a river for one day, we headed back to our point of origin where we were able to hit the showers and change into dry clothes. From there, the bus took us to a nearby restaurant where we ate in classic traditional Korean style. The food was neither good or bad but it was nice to take a break and feed our appetites that hadn't seen the likes of food since before we had embarked on our watery adventure.
The trip back was pretty quiet and relaxing. The majority of those with us were taxed from the days activities and had no taste for any kind of rambunctions ridiculousness. When we made it back, my comrades Chris and Terry decided to spend our evening at WOW Bar, decided to go out to meet up with a Korean friend of ours that Chris had introduced us to awhile back. With no real knowledge of the area that we had met her in, we let Sarah, our Korean friend, take us to a place where we could try a dish that she called "potato soup". When I heard about something called potato soup I was completely on board. As it turned out, the soup was really more of a spare rib soup with the occasional potato here and there. I will admit, the soup was probably one of my favorite dishes so far in Korea, but in my opinion, "potato soup" was a very misleading title for such cuisine.
From potato soup we made it back to our neighborhood and headed to WOW Bar, which is a local bar for us that has balcony seating, allowing us to have a few beers and enjoy what proved to be a nice Korean summer night. By the end of the night, we had a few more companions sitting at our table and another well spent night under our belts. While we were there we partook in what is known as fruit soju, which is pretty much just a daquiri of any fruit you want, mixed with soju. I admit, this is favorite of mine despite its fruity disposition. However, they way I look at it, while fruity drinks with an atypically low quantity of alcohol in them may be bit out of character for me, if you think about it, it's really just a spiked fruit smoothy. While smoothies themselves don't have much in the way of a backbone, when you spike them with alcohol that's actually kinda edgy. Besides, once we drink enough of it, we add more soju ourselves to give it some more pep.
Sunday was somewhat uneventful but we made use of a recent discovery that Chris and I made in our apartment- our roof access. Atop our oddly constructed and colored apartment, we have a sizeable rooftop where can bring my grill up and barbecue some sausages which, in Korea, come in green, red and and regular. Though we haven't done terribly much up there beyond a few Sunday barbecues, there is an incredible degree of potential for future events. I am extremely eager to test them out.
I have spent about an hour and a half here at my desk at school writing this and I still haven't eaten dinner, not to mention I've been told that I have to decorate my room for parent-teacher conferences that will be happening this Saturday, so I'm going to end this post with traditional promise of future posts.
Have a good one, folks!
The Korean humidity that I have heard so much about before this has begun its descent onto the urban confines of Gwangju Metropolitan City. It's still rather bearable but from what I understand it's still the beginning. I'm pretty thankful for the six sticks of Old Spice that I toted over here with me at the beginning of this trip. I imagine such foresight will pay considerable dividends in the future.
I've been having some pretty good times with my class which, I forgot to mention, is called Princeton Class. I couldn't help but smile at my fortune early on when the one guy from Jersey scored the class with the namesake of the Ivy League school that no one from that state actually attends. However, as much as I've been enjoying my class, they have also seen the sterner side of Liam Teacher. It's a regrettable affair when I have to act that way with the kids but I do it cuz I care.
As per usual, the highlight of my activity here in the Orient took place on the weekend. On Friday a few of us accompanied one of the directors to the grocery store to purchase some essentials for the planned white water rafting trip that the school would be hosting the next day. After being used for some heavy lifting and transportation labor, the director took us out for some Bunda jjigae. Now, bunda jjigae is technically considered Korean cuisine but in all reality it's pretty much just hotdog and spam soup made with ramen noodles. Of course, ramen here holds a much more reputable place in the Korean eye but I couldn't help but think that this kind of soup could have just as easily originated in a college dorm one late night as opposed to blossoming as a common dish of the South Korean nation. Keeping with Korean tradition, we complimented our meal with some maekju- beer -, but in a very conservative manner. Fully aware of the physically demanding day that lay before us, we saw it in our best interest to make it a quiet night. After an enjoyable meal, the night ended with the purchase of a few supersoakers to be unleashed on the unsuspecting bodies of those in our rafting company and we went our separate ways.
The next day began with a two hour drive out of Gwangju in a rather comfortable coach bus, occupied mostly with the activity, or inactivity, of sleep. Upon our arrival we were a bit discomfited by our welcome from the notably austere directors at the rafting site. We were very rapidly beset by a fusillade of whistles directing us to stand in four lines as we were given our standard issue life jackets, helmets and oars.Though we were assured that the activity of the day was rafting, it entered the minds of not a few of us that maybe we had wandered a little too far north, maybe beyond the stiffly guarded DMZ. For the most part, those oars of ours were probably not a far cry from what those armed hooligans up north were equipped with. The day continued in its oddly regimented manner as we got ready to launch our inflated aquatic vessels. Our raft director had the members of our crew wade into the water before boarding the raft. We assumed it was for the purpose of acclimating us to the river water. Initially, this was not much of a problem. However, this peculiar exercise of arbitrary authority became less agreeable when he had us link arms and dip up and down in the water as he chanted "1-down! 2- up!" as though he was conditioning us for a greater ordeal than a lazy trek down a meandering river. Looks of confusion began to be exchanged when we realized that the other crews of rafts we came with were getting set to make for open water while we, at that point, were lying on our backs in the water, floating away, accommodating yet another demand from our fascist facilitator. When we did actually start our trip downriver, the orders rang even more loudly in our ears. Much like galley slaves, we were urged on by the piercing shouts of our unelected "captain" who would, apparently, be accompanying us for the duration of the trip. In between his pacing shouts of "one, two", our progress was slowed by the regular demand for us to to stop and get back into rhythm or to bounce back and forth on the raft to release us from the hold of a random rock. Knowing that our commander knew very little English, the murmurs of discontent that passed among the surly crew became particularly audible and the idea of mutiny, even if in jest, was passed around freely. Luckily, for both parties, as the river opened up a little bit, we were permitted to abandon ship and take the rapids individually. Thought a little painful, this was a much more enjoyable way to take to the river than to subject ourselves to the constant reprimands and remonstrances of our skipper.
By the time we had reached our destination downriver we were in considerably better spirits if not a little worse for wear. At this point our opinion of our unbending instructors softened a little bit when they flipped a pair of the rafts and lined them up so as to construct something of a pontoon bridge that led to nowhere. Naturally, as I discovered that their purpose was for one of us step up and jump off the end of this bridge, I was ready and willing. From there, we were able to let, coax and coerce a number of other people to attempt the same thing and so began one of the more light-hearted and spirited parts of the day.
Having had our fill of leaping aimlessly into a river for one day, we headed back to our point of origin where we were able to hit the showers and change into dry clothes. From there, the bus took us to a nearby restaurant where we ate in classic traditional Korean style. The food was neither good or bad but it was nice to take a break and feed our appetites that hadn't seen the likes of food since before we had embarked on our watery adventure.
The trip back was pretty quiet and relaxing. The majority of those with us were taxed from the days activities and had no taste for any kind of rambunctions ridiculousness. When we made it back, my comrades Chris and Terry decided to spend our evening at WOW Bar, decided to go out to meet up with a Korean friend of ours that Chris had introduced us to awhile back. With no real knowledge of the area that we had met her in, we let Sarah, our Korean friend, take us to a place where we could try a dish that she called "potato soup". When I heard about something called potato soup I was completely on board. As it turned out, the soup was really more of a spare rib soup with the occasional potato here and there. I will admit, the soup was probably one of my favorite dishes so far in Korea, but in my opinion, "potato soup" was a very misleading title for such cuisine.
From potato soup we made it back to our neighborhood and headed to WOW Bar, which is a local bar for us that has balcony seating, allowing us to have a few beers and enjoy what proved to be a nice Korean summer night. By the end of the night, we had a few more companions sitting at our table and another well spent night under our belts. While we were there we partook in what is known as fruit soju, which is pretty much just a daquiri of any fruit you want, mixed with soju. I admit, this is favorite of mine despite its fruity disposition. However, they way I look at it, while fruity drinks with an atypically low quantity of alcohol in them may be bit out of character for me, if you think about it, it's really just a spiked fruit smoothy. While smoothies themselves don't have much in the way of a backbone, when you spike them with alcohol that's actually kinda edgy. Besides, once we drink enough of it, we add more soju ourselves to give it some more pep.
Sunday was somewhat uneventful but we made use of a recent discovery that Chris and I made in our apartment- our roof access. Atop our oddly constructed and colored apartment, we have a sizeable rooftop where can bring my grill up and barbecue some sausages which, in Korea, come in green, red and and regular. Though we haven't done terribly much up there beyond a few Sunday barbecues, there is an incredible degree of potential for future events. I am extremely eager to test them out.
I have spent about an hour and a half here at my desk at school writing this and I still haven't eaten dinner, not to mention I've been told that I have to decorate my room for parent-teacher conferences that will be happening this Saturday, so I'm going to end this post with traditional promise of future posts.
Have a good one, folks!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Heeelllllooo and welcome to the much awaited post you’ve all been asking for. A lot has gone on since last I’ve put pen to ink (so to speak), some of it new, cool and exciting and some of it less so. I do apologize for the space of time between this post and the last but I promise a lengthier edition this time around for you to absorb piece by piece or in a single, gluttonous sitting.
I find it necessary that I begin with less happy but more important news first to shed a great deal more light on one of the causes of my absence from the editor’s block.
The Quinn family recently and suddenly lost one of it’s cornerstones in the death of my Grandpa Jack. The shock penetrated the family deeply in it’s abruptness and suddenness. Though, perhaps not the youngest or sprightliest of men, our Grandpa had always struck me as one who would be with us for years to come. That may partially be the consequence of wishful thinking on my part, but all the same, the news put me well on my heels. He will be dearly missed by all who knew him and lovingly remembered in the hearts and minds who survive him. The wish that I could be there for the funeral and family was and is eclipsed only by the realization that my Grandpa is smiling somewhere with the knowledge that I am doing something over here that makes me and happy and makes him proud.
It is to be certain that distance holds no bearing or validity when contemplating the bonds that exist between and among families as close as my own. In spite of such distance, I commemorated my Grandfather in my own humble and quiet way. On a warm evening, not even a week ago, I ventured up to the pagoda that sits atop the highest part of the park nearby. From my vantage point, I peered out onto a dappled city of yellows, reds, blues, greens and oranges and let my mind dwell on late patriarch of the Quinn Family. With a Budweiser in hand (one of the first beers I ever had and the first one I ever had my Grandpa and my Dad), I remembered a great man who will be missed but not forgotten.
While my mind returns to my Grandpa Jack frequently, it does not mean that life over here ceases to be.
While I will have difficulty trying to organize and figure out what I should tell you first and what I should tell about in detail or just mention in passing, I will do my best to paint a picture of my life in the past weeks.
I think it would be wise to first increase your familiarity with the kindergarten class that I have inherited, now that I am far more acquainted with them since last I posted. I decided that the best way for you to meet my eleven 7 year-old (5 in American years) charges is to give them to you in a quick and neat fact sheet, covering the most basic points of each individual. This will be conducive for getting a better understanding of who they are as well as ease the process for those of you keeping score at home
(Though they all have Korean names that are rather difficult to pronounce, much less remember, they have also been given “Western” names for convenience’s sake)
Ariel- If I had to say, I would probably define Ariel somewhere along the lines of the “the popular girl”. She seems to get along relatively well with everyone in the class and while she does not act spoiled or bratty she definitely demands attention. I can’t remember any of her show and tells off hand, though it’s her turn tomorrow so I will get another chance to be wowed. Her “Kiss Day” (yup, kiss day) is every Monday after circle time and she is paired with John, although I am detecting a bit of a rift lately and wouldn’t be surprised if Kiss Day became a thing of the past in the near future, unless Jamie makes his move.
Bobby- Bobby is my eyes and ears, perhaps to the point of excess. You could say he qualfies as a bit of a tattle tale. However, do not be misled by this initial comment of negativity. He’s a kid who strives to impress. He is much easier to teach than some of the others because of this. If I tell him to do something, he’s pretty good about doing it the first time.
Gladis- Gladis is the one with her head in the clouds. I envy her for ability to simply wander off on whimsical tangents at a moments notice. She is one of those students that you can reprimand one moment and in the next, her smile is back and she’s as happy as she was before it ever happened. On the other hand, I don’t envy her teacher when he is trying to get her to focus. This tendency to wander makes keeping her on task a job in itself. FANTASY NOTE: You can expect this student to come up big on cute points and but look out for weeks with tough material. You may want to keep her on the bench when the class gets to harder sciences and when they are working with words that end in “Y”.
Kristi- Kristi makes the class ridiculously more rewarding and much easier to teach. She constantly has a smile and listens to everything you say. While I prefer a more freelance style of class, I’ve had to resort to a “raise your hand, don’t call out policy” for the time being. Amazingly, even in the midst of the uproar of hoots and hollers that occur before Liam Teacher says something, she remains composed and quiet, with her hand in the air and the right answer on her mind. She is always first on the list when it comes to giving her the better jobs like passing out the pencils or erasers, though she’s perfectly happy with passing out or collecting the books. If I admit favorites, she may well have earned the honor.
Jamie- Jamie has the goofy-cute card going well in his favor. The Korean teachers love him, especially my Korean teacher- Christine Teacher- which goes long way within the walls of LCI Academy. Some of his more notable tricks and stunts is laughing extremely hard to the point that snot is running down to his nose until it reaches the dreaded mouth region. The “Prestige” to his trick is pretending to enjoy letting it seep into his mouth and, sometimes, I’m convinced that he does.
John- I consider John Ariel’s counterpart and not simply because they are Kissing Buddies. That just reiterates my convictions. I find his wit to be a little bit more cleverly contrived than Jamie’s slapstick one-man show and actually think he might be one of the smarter kids in the class. He sometimes has a knack for mischief, and I admit that I let him get away with it a little bit more than the others. I can’t say exactly why, but I’m a big fan of this one.
Andy- Andy will be my project for the year. He is clearly going to be the most difficult to control and the most likely to cause trouble in the class. I have, for the sake of my Uncle John (not the bathroom reader guy), labeled him as “Bad Andy”. He is far more mischievous than Jamie or John and it seems like he sometimes does it with purely malicious intent. Though almost all of my kids do this, he is the king of the tattle-tale of fictitious events. He will tell me about things that happened that never actually transpired or, largely in his case, blame someone else for doing what he did to that student. I try not to single him out but he is the only one who has been sent out of the class almost every day since I’ve taken over the class. He is my work-in-progress.
Daniel- Daniel is Gladis’ counterpart. Though not as airy, he is rather difficult to get to pay attention. I would have to say that English comes a little bit harder to him than others. Also, I kinda worry about the kid a little. At circle time, when I ask everyone how they are he always tells me that he is “good and bad” because his little brother hits him. I hope he toughens up a little in the next few years or that this little brother of his is an uncharacteristically strong child. Still, he’s a quiet kid who likes to smile so he’s okay in my book.
Mark- Mark is a pretty smart fellow. I think he picks up random things more than the others. While he may have a bad streak from time to time when he’s in proximity to Andy, he is pretty well-behaved and speaks English rather well. On a few occasions, when we are in a more casual situation such as when we are on a field trip or doing the birthday party thing in class, I find myself acting buddy-buddy with him. He’s a pretty savvy cat and gets most of what I throw at him.
Mike- Mike is another quiet kid who likes to smile. He understands English rather well and speaks it pretty well too, but for some reason, math just doesn’t work for him. I have taught him addition and subtraction and how they are different at least five times but it still hasn’t quite clicked. If I didn’t have to worry about losing the rest of the class to do it, I wouldn’t mind taking the time to teach him in detail but it is an ENGLISH school and we only get so much time with math so I can’t afford to do it. He is also the male counterpart to the only other Kissing Couple in the class and, if you ask me, a part of the one that is more likely to survive the rough patches that such a relationship is heir to.
Jenny- Jenny is a bubbly one. She likes to smile and she loves getting out of her chair. She can be hectic but I do enjoy having her. She brings candy for show and tell so she’s a good sharer and she has a pair of butterfly wings that she wears to class that makes the hardest heart soften a bit. She is also Mike’s Kissing Buddy so she keeps good company.
Now that you know my class a little bit better, let me get you up to speed with some of the things I’ve been up to elsewhere.
Just this past weekend we had a big publicity event at the other school on the opposite side of the city to promote it’s opening. The school has been around for a year or so and while it is bigger and the facilities are newer, it’s enrollment is still below ours so we’re working on changing that. The theme of the event was carnival games and it was up to the Sangmu Teachers (That’s us) to operate that end of the event while the Bongsungdong Teachers (the teachers at the new school) ran the educational-fun classes inside the classrooms. While they were given the more plush and, well, less demeaning jobs of the two sets of teachers we still benefited by not having to do any work outside of being there. The day itself required extensive preparation on the part of the other teachers that was apparently on the worst side of grueling.
We were given the choice of a number of different games to operate. You had your classic games like knock the bottles down and ring toss but my interest was piqued by the game simply entitled “Balloon Toss”. I figured it promised to be a little more eventful and didn’t mind getting a little wet for the sake of a good time. My buddy Chris was quick to sign up alongside me and the situation had the promise of a pretty awesome time, in spite of the fact that we had to work on Saturday. For most of you reading, the idea in your head of a balloon toss looks much like two lines of participants facing each other and tossing balloons from one side to the other with the hope that the watery explosive being exchanged between the two of you remains in tact until the end. This is what I had in mind when I signed up. Apparently, in Korea, or at least at my school, that picture is a little different. In this picture there are two hapless individuals standing on one side of a box while young children throw these same watery explosives with the expressed intent to make them blow up somewhere on your body, preferably in the face region. There is a certain degree of comfort that comes to a 22- and 23- year old when they confront the prospect of being thrown at by kindergarteners, primary schoolers and the odd middle-schooler. That comfort comes in the knowledge that, given enough distance, it shouldn’t be all that difficult to dodge the majority of balloons being tossed your way. However, in reality, that pre-arranged distance with the system of one thrower at a time tends to break down in a relatively rapid fashion. By the end of the game (when we finally ran out of balloons), though more like 5 minutes into it, the game had become a crowd of motley Korean children armed with water balloons, all firing from point blank or closer. Any hope of emerging with a dry garment anywhere on our person quickly diminished. Fortunately for us, after a harrowing session of target practice, we were informed that there would be two more sessions following that one and in the time between those sessions, it would be our duty to scurry to the roof of the building in our drenched clothing so that we could fill more water balloons- the very water balloons that we would find hurtling towards our skulls in the not too distant future. The day ended with all of us present beleaguered and ready to enjoy the one free night we had afforded after working through our Saturday.
In all reality, the day was actually fun and hardly seemed to qualify as “work”. What was better, the directors had promised us yet another “Roof Party” at the new school and they came through brilliantly. Appealing to the varying tastes among both Foreign and Korean teachers, we were served pizza, chicken and “Korean-Chinese Food” which, like American Chinese, is not actually Chinese but still delicious. In addition, there was ample soju and beer to help Chris and me forget that we failed to bring a change of clothes and that we would be stuck in our wet clothes for the duration of the festivities.
Another event worthy of mention happened about two weekends ago. In light of the good time that we had at our first Kia Tigers game, despite their loss, we made a return trip with the hopes of changing our fortunes. Unfortunately, the day had an inauspicious start when Terry and I accompanied Chris through town to get him a cell phone. I will alert all readers now that when you are trying to get a cell phone in a country where the language is not one that you speak or understand, do not go without someone who does speak it or understand it. This is something that we did not do. The result was an hour and a half of hand gestures, failed attempts at using the few phrases we have in our repertoire and a lot of sighing and gnashing of teeth. Fortunately, after making a few phone calls with the clerk’s cell phone to more seasoned friends, we managed to make some headway in our endeavor. It was an endeavor that we would have easily given up on if we hadn’t put so much time into it already and if Chris wasn’t dead set on getting a cell phone that day. The tragedy and irony of the whole thing in the end was twofold: 1) Because of a discrepancy in his visa, he wasn’t able to actually get the phone registered until after the weekend so taking all that time when we should have been somewhere else was unnecessary 2) It turned out, on Chris’ return that Monday, that the clerk spoke Japanese which is a language that Chris speaks as well.
Ultimately, the group we had planned on going with had already left and the three of us headed over there sometime later. After grabbing a somewhat pricey cab, by Gwangju standards, walking through traffic and around the stadium to the entrance we were met with the disheartening news that the game was sold-out. My first reaction was disbelief. Of course I bleed red and black for my Tigers but the idea of a Korean baseball game, in a league of only 8 teams (meaning the Tigers would be seeing this very same team countless times in the future) still left me lost for words. Suddenly, we were outside of the stadium, without any tickets, a full cab ride away from home and without any plan for our Saturday. We decided that our best plan of attack was to sit outside the stadium for a little bit, listen to the crowd and sulk as we dwelled on our misfortune. However, it wasn’t long after we opened our first beer that we saw a distressed woman in her car trying to drive through a narrow road between the stadium and the wall on which we sat. The fact that the road was narrow, coupled with the fact that this woman wasn’t all that great of a driver made the task of navigating her car through this street a rather daunting obstacle. Nonetheless, we jumped down and tried to help as best we could with hand motions and tonal shouts. After a little while, another man came to help. With his command of the Korean language, being as he was a Korean man himself, he became indispensable in finally finagling this car through the street and away from the stadium. Thinking our job done, the three of us returned to our place on top of the wall to brood further upon our sorry situation. Luckily, the man who had helped us only moments before noticed us and addressed us with a very pertinent question, “Why you no game?”. It took a simple response , “No tickets” and the man was on his cell phone and getting us five tickets for the game. In no time, we were inside the stadium with two extra tickets that we had no idea what to do with. We had gone from rags to riches in the span of one good deed.
We got into the game and enjoyed ourselves but we have vowed to never step foot in that stadium again. While we were outside and sulking, the Tigers had a 3-run lead. When we finally got inside the lead disappeared and we never recovered. We pushed ourselves to an 0-2 record at games we have attended. Though my heart aches to never hear the echoes of Tigers Stadium or catch the whiff of stale kimbap on the air, the sacrifice to Kia’s men in red is well worth it.
As per usual, there are a bunch of things I could still say, but my tendency to be long-winded and overly dramatic has whittled more of the midnight oil than I care to think about. My last thoughts of this entry go with my comrades-in-arms back home who will be suiting up for the first Ballyowen game of the season this year in a matter of hours, right around the time I will be waking up. To them I wish them the best of luck and reassure them that my presence will not be missed. As it is, my competitive nature got the best of me the other day while I was participating in a harmless arcade game. It was a soccer game standing outside of a restaurant where you have to kick and actual ball that is connected to a lever and it records a score based on how hard you kick it. I decided to give it my all and I am certain that I strained something connecting my shin to other things on my leg. While not serious from what I can tell, I plan on staying away from that arcade game for awhile, maybe forever. Either way, I expect good news from the boys in black in the near future.
Strike it up, Bally!
Once again, sorry for the long time between entries. I will aim to write another one much sooner than last time. I hope everyone enjoys my most recent update. Until then, I say goodnight and good afternoon to my friends to the West.
I find it necessary that I begin with less happy but more important news first to shed a great deal more light on one of the causes of my absence from the editor’s block.
The Quinn family recently and suddenly lost one of it’s cornerstones in the death of my Grandpa Jack. The shock penetrated the family deeply in it’s abruptness and suddenness. Though, perhaps not the youngest or sprightliest of men, our Grandpa had always struck me as one who would be with us for years to come. That may partially be the consequence of wishful thinking on my part, but all the same, the news put me well on my heels. He will be dearly missed by all who knew him and lovingly remembered in the hearts and minds who survive him. The wish that I could be there for the funeral and family was and is eclipsed only by the realization that my Grandpa is smiling somewhere with the knowledge that I am doing something over here that makes me and happy and makes him proud.
It is to be certain that distance holds no bearing or validity when contemplating the bonds that exist between and among families as close as my own. In spite of such distance, I commemorated my Grandfather in my own humble and quiet way. On a warm evening, not even a week ago, I ventured up to the pagoda that sits atop the highest part of the park nearby. From my vantage point, I peered out onto a dappled city of yellows, reds, blues, greens and oranges and let my mind dwell on late patriarch of the Quinn Family. With a Budweiser in hand (one of the first beers I ever had and the first one I ever had my Grandpa and my Dad), I remembered a great man who will be missed but not forgotten.
While my mind returns to my Grandpa Jack frequently, it does not mean that life over here ceases to be.
While I will have difficulty trying to organize and figure out what I should tell you first and what I should tell about in detail or just mention in passing, I will do my best to paint a picture of my life in the past weeks.
I think it would be wise to first increase your familiarity with the kindergarten class that I have inherited, now that I am far more acquainted with them since last I posted. I decided that the best way for you to meet my eleven 7 year-old (5 in American years) charges is to give them to you in a quick and neat fact sheet, covering the most basic points of each individual. This will be conducive for getting a better understanding of who they are as well as ease the process for those of you keeping score at home
(Though they all have Korean names that are rather difficult to pronounce, much less remember, they have also been given “Western” names for convenience’s sake)
Ariel- If I had to say, I would probably define Ariel somewhere along the lines of the “the popular girl”. She seems to get along relatively well with everyone in the class and while she does not act spoiled or bratty she definitely demands attention. I can’t remember any of her show and tells off hand, though it’s her turn tomorrow so I will get another chance to be wowed. Her “Kiss Day” (yup, kiss day) is every Monday after circle time and she is paired with John, although I am detecting a bit of a rift lately and wouldn’t be surprised if Kiss Day became a thing of the past in the near future, unless Jamie makes his move.
Bobby- Bobby is my eyes and ears, perhaps to the point of excess. You could say he qualfies as a bit of a tattle tale. However, do not be misled by this initial comment of negativity. He’s a kid who strives to impress. He is much easier to teach than some of the others because of this. If I tell him to do something, he’s pretty good about doing it the first time.
Gladis- Gladis is the one with her head in the clouds. I envy her for ability to simply wander off on whimsical tangents at a moments notice. She is one of those students that you can reprimand one moment and in the next, her smile is back and she’s as happy as she was before it ever happened. On the other hand, I don’t envy her teacher when he is trying to get her to focus. This tendency to wander makes keeping her on task a job in itself. FANTASY NOTE: You can expect this student to come up big on cute points and but look out for weeks with tough material. You may want to keep her on the bench when the class gets to harder sciences and when they are working with words that end in “Y”.
Kristi- Kristi makes the class ridiculously more rewarding and much easier to teach. She constantly has a smile and listens to everything you say. While I prefer a more freelance style of class, I’ve had to resort to a “raise your hand, don’t call out policy” for the time being. Amazingly, even in the midst of the uproar of hoots and hollers that occur before Liam Teacher says something, she remains composed and quiet, with her hand in the air and the right answer on her mind. She is always first on the list when it comes to giving her the better jobs like passing out the pencils or erasers, though she’s perfectly happy with passing out or collecting the books. If I admit favorites, she may well have earned the honor.
Jamie- Jamie has the goofy-cute card going well in his favor. The Korean teachers love him, especially my Korean teacher- Christine Teacher- which goes long way within the walls of LCI Academy. Some of his more notable tricks and stunts is laughing extremely hard to the point that snot is running down to his nose until it reaches the dreaded mouth region. The “Prestige” to his trick is pretending to enjoy letting it seep into his mouth and, sometimes, I’m convinced that he does.
John- I consider John Ariel’s counterpart and not simply because they are Kissing Buddies. That just reiterates my convictions. I find his wit to be a little bit more cleverly contrived than Jamie’s slapstick one-man show and actually think he might be one of the smarter kids in the class. He sometimes has a knack for mischief, and I admit that I let him get away with it a little bit more than the others. I can’t say exactly why, but I’m a big fan of this one.
Andy- Andy will be my project for the year. He is clearly going to be the most difficult to control and the most likely to cause trouble in the class. I have, for the sake of my Uncle John (not the bathroom reader guy), labeled him as “Bad Andy”. He is far more mischievous than Jamie or John and it seems like he sometimes does it with purely malicious intent. Though almost all of my kids do this, he is the king of the tattle-tale of fictitious events. He will tell me about things that happened that never actually transpired or, largely in his case, blame someone else for doing what he did to that student. I try not to single him out but he is the only one who has been sent out of the class almost every day since I’ve taken over the class. He is my work-in-progress.
Daniel- Daniel is Gladis’ counterpart. Though not as airy, he is rather difficult to get to pay attention. I would have to say that English comes a little bit harder to him than others. Also, I kinda worry about the kid a little. At circle time, when I ask everyone how they are he always tells me that he is “good and bad” because his little brother hits him. I hope he toughens up a little in the next few years or that this little brother of his is an uncharacteristically strong child. Still, he’s a quiet kid who likes to smile so he’s okay in my book.
Mark- Mark is a pretty smart fellow. I think he picks up random things more than the others. While he may have a bad streak from time to time when he’s in proximity to Andy, he is pretty well-behaved and speaks English rather well. On a few occasions, when we are in a more casual situation such as when we are on a field trip or doing the birthday party thing in class, I find myself acting buddy-buddy with him. He’s a pretty savvy cat and gets most of what I throw at him.
Mike- Mike is another quiet kid who likes to smile. He understands English rather well and speaks it pretty well too, but for some reason, math just doesn’t work for him. I have taught him addition and subtraction and how they are different at least five times but it still hasn’t quite clicked. If I didn’t have to worry about losing the rest of the class to do it, I wouldn’t mind taking the time to teach him in detail but it is an ENGLISH school and we only get so much time with math so I can’t afford to do it. He is also the male counterpart to the only other Kissing Couple in the class and, if you ask me, a part of the one that is more likely to survive the rough patches that such a relationship is heir to.
Jenny- Jenny is a bubbly one. She likes to smile and she loves getting out of her chair. She can be hectic but I do enjoy having her. She brings candy for show and tell so she’s a good sharer and she has a pair of butterfly wings that she wears to class that makes the hardest heart soften a bit. She is also Mike’s Kissing Buddy so she keeps good company.
Now that you know my class a little bit better, let me get you up to speed with some of the things I’ve been up to elsewhere.
Just this past weekend we had a big publicity event at the other school on the opposite side of the city to promote it’s opening. The school has been around for a year or so and while it is bigger and the facilities are newer, it’s enrollment is still below ours so we’re working on changing that. The theme of the event was carnival games and it was up to the Sangmu Teachers (That’s us) to operate that end of the event while the Bongsungdong Teachers (the teachers at the new school) ran the educational-fun classes inside the classrooms. While they were given the more plush and, well, less demeaning jobs of the two sets of teachers we still benefited by not having to do any work outside of being there. The day itself required extensive preparation on the part of the other teachers that was apparently on the worst side of grueling.
We were given the choice of a number of different games to operate. You had your classic games like knock the bottles down and ring toss but my interest was piqued by the game simply entitled “Balloon Toss”. I figured it promised to be a little more eventful and didn’t mind getting a little wet for the sake of a good time. My buddy Chris was quick to sign up alongside me and the situation had the promise of a pretty awesome time, in spite of the fact that we had to work on Saturday. For most of you reading, the idea in your head of a balloon toss looks much like two lines of participants facing each other and tossing balloons from one side to the other with the hope that the watery explosive being exchanged between the two of you remains in tact until the end. This is what I had in mind when I signed up. Apparently, in Korea, or at least at my school, that picture is a little different. In this picture there are two hapless individuals standing on one side of a box while young children throw these same watery explosives with the expressed intent to make them blow up somewhere on your body, preferably in the face region. There is a certain degree of comfort that comes to a 22- and 23- year old when they confront the prospect of being thrown at by kindergarteners, primary schoolers and the odd middle-schooler. That comfort comes in the knowledge that, given enough distance, it shouldn’t be all that difficult to dodge the majority of balloons being tossed your way. However, in reality, that pre-arranged distance with the system of one thrower at a time tends to break down in a relatively rapid fashion. By the end of the game (when we finally ran out of balloons), though more like 5 minutes into it, the game had become a crowd of motley Korean children armed with water balloons, all firing from point blank or closer. Any hope of emerging with a dry garment anywhere on our person quickly diminished. Fortunately for us, after a harrowing session of target practice, we were informed that there would be two more sessions following that one and in the time between those sessions, it would be our duty to scurry to the roof of the building in our drenched clothing so that we could fill more water balloons- the very water balloons that we would find hurtling towards our skulls in the not too distant future. The day ended with all of us present beleaguered and ready to enjoy the one free night we had afforded after working through our Saturday.
In all reality, the day was actually fun and hardly seemed to qualify as “work”. What was better, the directors had promised us yet another “Roof Party” at the new school and they came through brilliantly. Appealing to the varying tastes among both Foreign and Korean teachers, we were served pizza, chicken and “Korean-Chinese Food” which, like American Chinese, is not actually Chinese but still delicious. In addition, there was ample soju and beer to help Chris and me forget that we failed to bring a change of clothes and that we would be stuck in our wet clothes for the duration of the festivities.
Another event worthy of mention happened about two weekends ago. In light of the good time that we had at our first Kia Tigers game, despite their loss, we made a return trip with the hopes of changing our fortunes. Unfortunately, the day had an inauspicious start when Terry and I accompanied Chris through town to get him a cell phone. I will alert all readers now that when you are trying to get a cell phone in a country where the language is not one that you speak or understand, do not go without someone who does speak it or understand it. This is something that we did not do. The result was an hour and a half of hand gestures, failed attempts at using the few phrases we have in our repertoire and a lot of sighing and gnashing of teeth. Fortunately, after making a few phone calls with the clerk’s cell phone to more seasoned friends, we managed to make some headway in our endeavor. It was an endeavor that we would have easily given up on if we hadn’t put so much time into it already and if Chris wasn’t dead set on getting a cell phone that day. The tragedy and irony of the whole thing in the end was twofold: 1) Because of a discrepancy in his visa, he wasn’t able to actually get the phone registered until after the weekend so taking all that time when we should have been somewhere else was unnecessary 2) It turned out, on Chris’ return that Monday, that the clerk spoke Japanese which is a language that Chris speaks as well.
Ultimately, the group we had planned on going with had already left and the three of us headed over there sometime later. After grabbing a somewhat pricey cab, by Gwangju standards, walking through traffic and around the stadium to the entrance we were met with the disheartening news that the game was sold-out. My first reaction was disbelief. Of course I bleed red and black for my Tigers but the idea of a Korean baseball game, in a league of only 8 teams (meaning the Tigers would be seeing this very same team countless times in the future) still left me lost for words. Suddenly, we were outside of the stadium, without any tickets, a full cab ride away from home and without any plan for our Saturday. We decided that our best plan of attack was to sit outside the stadium for a little bit, listen to the crowd and sulk as we dwelled on our misfortune. However, it wasn’t long after we opened our first beer that we saw a distressed woman in her car trying to drive through a narrow road between the stadium and the wall on which we sat. The fact that the road was narrow, coupled with the fact that this woman wasn’t all that great of a driver made the task of navigating her car through this street a rather daunting obstacle. Nonetheless, we jumped down and tried to help as best we could with hand motions and tonal shouts. After a little while, another man came to help. With his command of the Korean language, being as he was a Korean man himself, he became indispensable in finally finagling this car through the street and away from the stadium. Thinking our job done, the three of us returned to our place on top of the wall to brood further upon our sorry situation. Luckily, the man who had helped us only moments before noticed us and addressed us with a very pertinent question, “Why you no game?”. It took a simple response , “No tickets” and the man was on his cell phone and getting us five tickets for the game. In no time, we were inside the stadium with two extra tickets that we had no idea what to do with. We had gone from rags to riches in the span of one good deed.
We got into the game and enjoyed ourselves but we have vowed to never step foot in that stadium again. While we were outside and sulking, the Tigers had a 3-run lead. When we finally got inside the lead disappeared and we never recovered. We pushed ourselves to an 0-2 record at games we have attended. Though my heart aches to never hear the echoes of Tigers Stadium or catch the whiff of stale kimbap on the air, the sacrifice to Kia’s men in red is well worth it.
As per usual, there are a bunch of things I could still say, but my tendency to be long-winded and overly dramatic has whittled more of the midnight oil than I care to think about. My last thoughts of this entry go with my comrades-in-arms back home who will be suiting up for the first Ballyowen game of the season this year in a matter of hours, right around the time I will be waking up. To them I wish them the best of luck and reassure them that my presence will not be missed. As it is, my competitive nature got the best of me the other day while I was participating in a harmless arcade game. It was a soccer game standing outside of a restaurant where you have to kick and actual ball that is connected to a lever and it records a score based on how hard you kick it. I decided to give it my all and I am certain that I strained something connecting my shin to other things on my leg. While not serious from what I can tell, I plan on staying away from that arcade game for awhile, maybe forever. Either way, I expect good news from the boys in black in the near future.
Strike it up, Bally!
Once again, sorry for the long time between entries. I will aim to write another one much sooner than last time. I hope everyone enjoys my most recent update. Until then, I say goodnight and good afternoon to my friends to the West.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Friday night commenced with a potluck dinner on the rooftop of the school, featuring the collective faculty of both our school and the LCI Academy on the other side of the city. Lacking any real capacity for cooking, a colleague of mine and I found ourselves making a last minute run before the party to the local Lotte Mart where we purchased some sushi just so we could say we brought something. That same sushi was destined to meet the ground later on due to an unbalanced table and some intoxication, but I digress. More to the point, the means of intoxication was brought by the the directors themselves, meaning it was both permitted and encouraged on company grounds. The night involved American music, good conversation, a loosening of the social boundaries that divide the English teachers from the Korean teachers and some dancing that ranged from weak to wonderful (of which I took no part in).
After a nice evening with everyone, a few of us wandered downtown and continued the festivities there. We met up with a number of other friends who left the party before us so that we could celebrate one of the last nights with the teacher who is being replaced by me. It was a group that remained in tact for the duration of three different bars before the Brit and I randomly encountered the Korean friends that I mentioned in the last post. We both decided to remain in their company as plans to sally forth to a Nae-rae-bang materialized. Both reluctant and expectant, we made it over there and set ourselves up in a private room where a a table surrounded by a wrap-around booth and all the paraphernalia for karaoke awaited us. It took a little while for anyone to get the nerve up to be the first one, but eventually our Korean "hosts" took the first step and belted out a melody for the all present to listen. The night continued on with an array of performances, as our ears were both graced and gutted by the varying degrees of mellifluous and raucous noises that escaped our mouths. I still remain apologetic for subjecting others to the combined train crash that was my terrible voice and my tone deaf control of that voice along with my general ignorance of the majority of words to the majority of songs. The rest of the night included a various number of different people coming in and out of the room and trays of different foods and bottles of soju that flowed rather freely. I will not report on this forum the time of night/day that we exited that nae-rae-bang but it was a thorough experience of the Korean culture.
Saturday was somewhat like the eye of the storm of a four day weekend. We went downtown but nothing of any real note occurred. One regret that emerged from that day was the fact that we didn't make it out anywhere beyond Gwangju. While it was a good weekend much of it wasn't spent doing things that couldn't be done back in the States.
Sunday was a day well spent at the Memorial Park. The weather was beautiful so the Brit, Chris and I went out in the afternoon and basked in the sun beneath the shadows of the memorial's majesty. Chris held court on a rock with his rabbit, Moochi, as Koreans approached him unabashedly to get a look at his pet. Terry and I whiled the hours playing around with the football, passing it and juggling. Later on, as the sun began to retreat behind the mountains beyond the city limits, a trio of Korean high schoolers approached us with interest in challenging us to a game of soccer. We complied by setting up a water bottle on either end of our makeshift field and dividing into two sides, East vs. West. We began at an easy pace with neither side showing an advantage but as soon as they put the first ball into our Dasani, I deemed it necessary to make the Ballyown Soccer Club proud. The result was a 3-2 victory featuring a hat-trick and a goal that went between the defender's legs by yours truly. The West had won...
The night was spent eating at a Korean barbecue (again) and then heading over to a local bar to drink a few pints, eat a LOT of complimentary popcorn and watch our Kia Tigers fall after getting the tying run up to bat in the ninth. The game was unfortunate but the night was still good.
On Monday, we headed out to the mountains to check out some scenery. When I first heard that we were going to the mountains I was expecting more of a hiking experience but when we met up with Jeremy, the head English teacher and organizer of the excursion, we learned that it would be a bit different than expected. We did a little bit of walking, were surrounded by some pretty impressive natural sites and got to see another Buddhist temple that seemed less out of place than the one in the center of the city but it wasn't more than 30 minutes of walking before we stopped at one of a few little tent-huts where we were able to dine on some very authentic Korean food and Korean beer for lunch. Afterward, we took a bus back into the city proper where we fell asleep right up until our stop and were rather lucky to have not missed it. The night went similar to the last one with the exception that we did dinner at that same bar instead of at the Korean barbecue and we watched Korean Women's Bowling instead of Tiger baseball.
It was decided the night before that Tuesday (the last day of our vacation) would be spent barbecuing at the park. We had such a good time there that we had to go back. There we encountered a couple from work that was enjoying yet another day of sunlight at the park and convinced them to take part in our Australian-American pastime. I purchased the grill my self with the express purpose of using it many times again in the future and we split the cost for the food. Unfortunately, it was only a few white charcoals and half-cooked sausages later that we were told we couldn't barbecue in the park. Our only alternative was to retreat back into the confines of our neighborhood and awkwardly continue our barbecue in the street outside of a closed mini-mart. It wound up not being what we anticipated but our unwillingness to allow our spirits be dashed managed to preserve our good time. The rest of the day slid gently into an evening of recuperation and preparation for a return to the grind. A grind that will only be three days long.
Today was our first day back from the vacation and all things are well and accounted for. The weekend is missed but the nearness of the next one makes any difficulty palatable.
A happy birthday goes out to a number of friends and acquaintances that have had birthdays in the recent days and weeks. Maybe next year...
After a nice evening with everyone, a few of us wandered downtown and continued the festivities there. We met up with a number of other friends who left the party before us so that we could celebrate one of the last nights with the teacher who is being replaced by me. It was a group that remained in tact for the duration of three different bars before the Brit and I randomly encountered the Korean friends that I mentioned in the last post. We both decided to remain in their company as plans to sally forth to a Nae-rae-bang materialized. Both reluctant and expectant, we made it over there and set ourselves up in a private room where a a table surrounded by a wrap-around booth and all the paraphernalia for karaoke awaited us. It took a little while for anyone to get the nerve up to be the first one, but eventually our Korean "hosts" took the first step and belted out a melody for the all present to listen. The night continued on with an array of performances, as our ears were both graced and gutted by the varying degrees of mellifluous and raucous noises that escaped our mouths. I still remain apologetic for subjecting others to the combined train crash that was my terrible voice and my tone deaf control of that voice along with my general ignorance of the majority of words to the majority of songs. The rest of the night included a various number of different people coming in and out of the room and trays of different foods and bottles of soju that flowed rather freely. I will not report on this forum the time of night/day that we exited that nae-rae-bang but it was a thorough experience of the Korean culture.
Saturday was somewhat like the eye of the storm of a four day weekend. We went downtown but nothing of any real note occurred. One regret that emerged from that day was the fact that we didn't make it out anywhere beyond Gwangju. While it was a good weekend much of it wasn't spent doing things that couldn't be done back in the States.
Sunday was a day well spent at the Memorial Park. The weather was beautiful so the Brit, Chris and I went out in the afternoon and basked in the sun beneath the shadows of the memorial's majesty. Chris held court on a rock with his rabbit, Moochi, as Koreans approached him unabashedly to get a look at his pet. Terry and I whiled the hours playing around with the football, passing it and juggling. Later on, as the sun began to retreat behind the mountains beyond the city limits, a trio of Korean high schoolers approached us with interest in challenging us to a game of soccer. We complied by setting up a water bottle on either end of our makeshift field and dividing into two sides, East vs. West. We began at an easy pace with neither side showing an advantage but as soon as they put the first ball into our Dasani, I deemed it necessary to make the Ballyown Soccer Club proud. The result was a 3-2 victory featuring a hat-trick and a goal that went between the defender's legs by yours truly. The West had won...
The night was spent eating at a Korean barbecue (again) and then heading over to a local bar to drink a few pints, eat a LOT of complimentary popcorn and watch our Kia Tigers fall after getting the tying run up to bat in the ninth. The game was unfortunate but the night was still good.
On Monday, we headed out to the mountains to check out some scenery. When I first heard that we were going to the mountains I was expecting more of a hiking experience but when we met up with Jeremy, the head English teacher and organizer of the excursion, we learned that it would be a bit different than expected. We did a little bit of walking, were surrounded by some pretty impressive natural sites and got to see another Buddhist temple that seemed less out of place than the one in the center of the city but it wasn't more than 30 minutes of walking before we stopped at one of a few little tent-huts where we were able to dine on some very authentic Korean food and Korean beer for lunch. Afterward, we took a bus back into the city proper where we fell asleep right up until our stop and were rather lucky to have not missed it. The night went similar to the last one with the exception that we did dinner at that same bar instead of at the Korean barbecue and we watched Korean Women's Bowling instead of Tiger baseball.
It was decided the night before that Tuesday (the last day of our vacation) would be spent barbecuing at the park. We had such a good time there that we had to go back. There we encountered a couple from work that was enjoying yet another day of sunlight at the park and convinced them to take part in our Australian-American pastime. I purchased the grill my self with the express purpose of using it many times again in the future and we split the cost for the food. Unfortunately, it was only a few white charcoals and half-cooked sausages later that we were told we couldn't barbecue in the park. Our only alternative was to retreat back into the confines of our neighborhood and awkwardly continue our barbecue in the street outside of a closed mini-mart. It wound up not being what we anticipated but our unwillingness to allow our spirits be dashed managed to preserve our good time. The rest of the day slid gently into an evening of recuperation and preparation for a return to the grind. A grind that will only be three days long.
Today was our first day back from the vacation and all things are well and accounted for. The weekend is missed but the nearness of the next one makes any difficulty palatable.
A happy birthday goes out to a number of friends and acquaintances that have had birthdays in the recent days and weeks. Maybe next year...
Friday, May 1, 2009
I think I speak for countless generations in America that were born anytime before 1990 or so when I stress the tragic magnitude of my misfortune that is being in a country that celebrates a Childrens Day at a time in my life that numerically places me beyond the cusp of childhood. I still hear the echoing laments from children of a decade ago wishing that somewhere in the line of days dedicated to Mothers, Parents, Flags and Trees there might be a single one commemorating our overlooked though essential niche of society. Now that I am finally country that recognizes this gift of youthful naivete I can do so only as bygone celebrant.
On the other hand, such festivities do warrant two days off, yielding a four day weekend that begins in 9 minutes. ( I have the interesting fortune of having a prep period at the very end of the day). Before I touch upon my plans for these four days I feel the need to first recount the things that have already happened.
Last night was my first night hanging out with actual Korean friends. I realize you readers out there are stunned and amazed by such a feat but I will go further to say that I was the only foreigner among the three of us. I will also qualify thos achievement by admitting that they both speak English rather well and that one of them was a dual English/Korean major at university. This basically means I was talking to two individuals who spoke my language but happened to grow up in Korea. Nothing terribly spectacular but still something.
When we decided to hang out on a Thursday night I immediately assumed that it would be an early start and an early finish. This assumption was summarily dismissed when I learned that they didn't get off of work until 9:30 pm, which meant that they pretty much had the schedule that I had before I started working mornings. As I have mentioned and many of you will have assumed, this creates an opportunity or temptation to spend a late night enjoying yourself while allowing you ample time to recover and make it to work the next day. I certainly balked at the prospect of starting a night so late but it would have been rather uncharacteristic of me to decline an offer to be sociable.
The night began at around 10 o'clock when I met the first of my new friends in front of a Starbucks near where I work. We walked to a traditional Japanese restaurant and ordered food. Interestingly enough, I was in Korea, in the company of Koreans , but somehow managed to go to a Japanese restaurant and order a plate of sausage, complete with a side of kraut and kimchi. I was, by no means unhappy with what we ordered, but taken aback by the irony of the situation.
(This post was written on Friday but was interrupted by outside influences. It is now Monday evening. I apologize for the abrupt ending.)
On the other hand, such festivities do warrant two days off, yielding a four day weekend that begins in 9 minutes. ( I have the interesting fortune of having a prep period at the very end of the day). Before I touch upon my plans for these four days I feel the need to first recount the things that have already happened.
Last night was my first night hanging out with actual Korean friends. I realize you readers out there are stunned and amazed by such a feat but I will go further to say that I was the only foreigner among the three of us. I will also qualify thos achievement by admitting that they both speak English rather well and that one of them was a dual English/Korean major at university. This basically means I was talking to two individuals who spoke my language but happened to grow up in Korea. Nothing terribly spectacular but still something.
When we decided to hang out on a Thursday night I immediately assumed that it would be an early start and an early finish. This assumption was summarily dismissed when I learned that they didn't get off of work until 9:30 pm, which meant that they pretty much had the schedule that I had before I started working mornings. As I have mentioned and many of you will have assumed, this creates an opportunity or temptation to spend a late night enjoying yourself while allowing you ample time to recover and make it to work the next day. I certainly balked at the prospect of starting a night so late but it would have been rather uncharacteristic of me to decline an offer to be sociable.
The night began at around 10 o'clock when I met the first of my new friends in front of a Starbucks near where I work. We walked to a traditional Japanese restaurant and ordered food. Interestingly enough, I was in Korea, in the company of Koreans , but somehow managed to go to a Japanese restaurant and order a plate of sausage, complete with a side of kraut and kimchi. I was, by no means unhappy with what we ordered, but taken aback by the irony of the situation.
(This post was written on Friday but was interrupted by outside influences. It is now Monday evening. I apologize for the abrupt ending.)
Monday, April 27, 2009
It's Monday evening here in the sunny mountains of the Korean Penninsula and I have recently become aware of the travesty that was the first Yankee-Sox series. While the effects are mildly dulled by the distance as well as the recent 10-2 conquest of my Tigers over the Samsung Lions, I remain considerably dismayed. I thought the amount of money spent on pitching alone would be enough to have immediate results. Still, the season is young and my optimism will prevail.
As luck would have it, today was the day that my night shifts we replaced by the more traditional 9:30 to 6 shift. Unfortunately, I was unaware. The day began with the laundry process. Because I have a washer but not a dryer, I decided I was going to take my work clothes to the dry cleaner for their first cleaning, just to make sure they looked good after being washed. I have an iron, but I bought it for 11,000 won so it's reliability and effectiveness leaves much to be desired. It didn't occur to me until recently that it would actually make more sense to wash the clothes in the washer but still go to the laundromat for the dryer. That way, even if I do have some ironing to do, it will be a lot easier to deal with than if my shirts and pants were dried by hanging them in random places in the apartment. Either way, as the process began and I had one load down at the laundromat with another load in the washer I was met with the unhappy arrival of the director himself at my door. When I learned that my shift was, in fact, the morning one I offered profuse apologies and told him I would be at the school as soon as possible. This meant rushing down to the laundromat to pull the mostly dried first load while leaving the other load to sit in the washer (where it still remains at the time of this entry's publication). As the plans of men are want to do, my agenda took a rapid change and I was off to school with what dry work clothes I still had.
When I got to work I was somewhat concerned about the repercussions of this error. However, when I entered the classroom I was meant to be teaching I found the director's wife, who is also a kind of director in her own right, the apologies were coming from the other end. She felt badly that I was not informed more concretely about what I was doing and allowed me to take over the class with no difficulties. The exchange ended with both of us apologizing to each other and neither of us much worse off for the wear. The remainder of the day went rather well and I am now officially part of the typical daily grind.
As of Sunday, I have officially been in Korea for a month and it has been an interesting experience this far. The most recent week left me with little say about anything interesting with the exception that I have seen the movie Speed on television far too many times and can't imagine why anyone would have such willingness to air it on a regular basis. I have also gotten a healthy dose of Hugh Jackman, compliments of the recent unveiling of the new Wolverine movie. The weekend, on the other hand, started a little earlier for me. As I mentioned in the previous post, we now have a colonial cousin in our midst from across the pond (although, neither of us are even remotely near that pond right now). It will now be his obligation to assume to nocturnal duties that I so recently had. As it was, for the short spell of two days we shared the same shift while he observed my classes. The benefit of course being that we both had schedules that got out a little bit later but also began much later the next day. The inevitable result was a Yankee and a Brit out on the town of Gwangju. Actually, Thursday night was rather tame if not somewhat lengthy, but it held promise for Friday night when we would again share the late exit from the office.
The next night started with a trip downtown. Both of us being without cell phones and with everyone else already out, we were forced to venture out on our own. We began with a cab downtown and grabbed some food at what is called a Playboy bar but I assure everyone back home, with every ounce of my moral fiber, that it is not at ALL what it sounds like. It's actually just a Korean bar with Americanized decor. We had a couple of beers and some food before we were back on the road. Unfortunately, downtown is a series of brightly lit streets that look all the same and I, being at the helm of the venture, led us back and forth without finding a single familiar bar. The combination of my poor sense of direction, the fact that I've only been in Korea for a month and the nature of Gwangju being a city where people only speak Korean made me a very poor choice to lead, though still the more able of the two. Eventually we ran into one of the other teachers with her boyfriend who was able to direct us in the proper direction.
It was probably around 1 o' clock before our night really got a chance to get started and it began at Song's German bar where one can find a few beers with a bit of western flavor. It being the prime time for bar activity downtown, we had difficulty finding a corner to establish ourselves but eventually Terry the Brit and I were able to squeeze into a table between a group of foreigners and a group of Korean girls. It didn't take long for the four Korean girls to our one side to involve us in one of their toasts and shortly after, our twosome became a party of six. We were pleasantly surprised to learn that all four of them were proficient enough to communicate with us in English, two of them having a rather impressive handle of the language. The company was good and the obligatory round that Terry and I each had to buy wasn't all that bad to the wallet. There was discussion of venturing over to a Nae-rae Bang, which is a Korean karaoke room, but one of the girls' desire for a gin and tonic (of all drinks) brought us next door to the quintessential foreigner bar, Speakeasy. My feelings were mixed as I hoped to stay away from singing but was equally interested in seeing one of these places for myself. The rest of the night was spent here with more conversation and, though I staunchly opposed it, some dancing. I think the theory may be right that what translates into awful and erratic movements in the Statts could actually be construed as good dancing here in Korea. It seemed to work this time anyway.
Saturday night began with dinner at a new Korean barbecue place featuring the likes of Terry and myself. Afterward, we went back to see if we couldn't get Chris to join the fray before we headed back downtown. When we met him at his door he seemed in bad shape and explained promptly after that he was still recovering from the night before. Although we had a good evening ourselves, it appeared that our friend here had enjoyed himself as well during those very same hours. Though he initially showed a hesitance to come out with us, a little coaxing and cajoling managed to bump our numbers to three. From there we headed downtown and headed to Soul Train. While we were there we played some pool and met up with another teacher and two of his friends, one of which being a graduate of Michigan State who came over here and was looking to play some soccer. I told him of my similar ambitions and am hoping to see it through in the future. While we were there, Terry insisted on rounds of tequila shots as a way to assimilate better to the Korean culture. We also got to see a show involving the bartenders tossing flaming bottles, strobe lights and techno music. Apparently, this is a common occurrence though I have never been there long enough to see it before. Much later in the evening/morning, we made it to another bar where I found myself, not altogether willingly, engaged in conversation with a middle aged mailman as he showed me some of his English poetry written on a bar napkin. Unfortunately, his English poetry meant, in no way, that he was a capable English speaker and the conversation was considerably strained by a barrier that was made up of equal parts language difference and beer.
With a Friday and Saturday night well spent, the weekend was a success and we have recently been informed that a four day weekend awaits us on the other end of this week. Not entirely sure why we have Monday off, but we have Tuesday off for Children's Day which is a national holiday. I am not one to complain so I won't.
I now have my "green card" so I can get the internet which hopefully means I can get posts in more frequently. That could also mean more Skype-age so be ready America.
This is Liam Thomas signing out.
As luck would have it, today was the day that my night shifts we replaced by the more traditional 9:30 to 6 shift. Unfortunately, I was unaware. The day began with the laundry process. Because I have a washer but not a dryer, I decided I was going to take my work clothes to the dry cleaner for their first cleaning, just to make sure they looked good after being washed. I have an iron, but I bought it for 11,000 won so it's reliability and effectiveness leaves much to be desired. It didn't occur to me until recently that it would actually make more sense to wash the clothes in the washer but still go to the laundromat for the dryer. That way, even if I do have some ironing to do, it will be a lot easier to deal with than if my shirts and pants were dried by hanging them in random places in the apartment. Either way, as the process began and I had one load down at the laundromat with another load in the washer I was met with the unhappy arrival of the director himself at my door. When I learned that my shift was, in fact, the morning one I offered profuse apologies and told him I would be at the school as soon as possible. This meant rushing down to the laundromat to pull the mostly dried first load while leaving the other load to sit in the washer (where it still remains at the time of this entry's publication). As the plans of men are want to do, my agenda took a rapid change and I was off to school with what dry work clothes I still had.
When I got to work I was somewhat concerned about the repercussions of this error. However, when I entered the classroom I was meant to be teaching I found the director's wife, who is also a kind of director in her own right, the apologies were coming from the other end. She felt badly that I was not informed more concretely about what I was doing and allowed me to take over the class with no difficulties. The exchange ended with both of us apologizing to each other and neither of us much worse off for the wear. The remainder of the day went rather well and I am now officially part of the typical daily grind.
As of Sunday, I have officially been in Korea for a month and it has been an interesting experience this far. The most recent week left me with little say about anything interesting with the exception that I have seen the movie Speed on television far too many times and can't imagine why anyone would have such willingness to air it on a regular basis. I have also gotten a healthy dose of Hugh Jackman, compliments of the recent unveiling of the new Wolverine movie. The weekend, on the other hand, started a little earlier for me. As I mentioned in the previous post, we now have a colonial cousin in our midst from across the pond (although, neither of us are even remotely near that pond right now). It will now be his obligation to assume to nocturnal duties that I so recently had. As it was, for the short spell of two days we shared the same shift while he observed my classes. The benefit of course being that we both had schedules that got out a little bit later but also began much later the next day. The inevitable result was a Yankee and a Brit out on the town of Gwangju. Actually, Thursday night was rather tame if not somewhat lengthy, but it held promise for Friday night when we would again share the late exit from the office.
The next night started with a trip downtown. Both of us being without cell phones and with everyone else already out, we were forced to venture out on our own. We began with a cab downtown and grabbed some food at what is called a Playboy bar but I assure everyone back home, with every ounce of my moral fiber, that it is not at ALL what it sounds like. It's actually just a Korean bar with Americanized decor. We had a couple of beers and some food before we were back on the road. Unfortunately, downtown is a series of brightly lit streets that look all the same and I, being at the helm of the venture, led us back and forth without finding a single familiar bar. The combination of my poor sense of direction, the fact that I've only been in Korea for a month and the nature of Gwangju being a city where people only speak Korean made me a very poor choice to lead, though still the more able of the two. Eventually we ran into one of the other teachers with her boyfriend who was able to direct us in the proper direction.
It was probably around 1 o' clock before our night really got a chance to get started and it began at Song's German bar where one can find a few beers with a bit of western flavor. It being the prime time for bar activity downtown, we had difficulty finding a corner to establish ourselves but eventually Terry the Brit and I were able to squeeze into a table between a group of foreigners and a group of Korean girls. It didn't take long for the four Korean girls to our one side to involve us in one of their toasts and shortly after, our twosome became a party of six. We were pleasantly surprised to learn that all four of them were proficient enough to communicate with us in English, two of them having a rather impressive handle of the language. The company was good and the obligatory round that Terry and I each had to buy wasn't all that bad to the wallet. There was discussion of venturing over to a Nae-rae Bang, which is a Korean karaoke room, but one of the girls' desire for a gin and tonic (of all drinks) brought us next door to the quintessential foreigner bar, Speakeasy. My feelings were mixed as I hoped to stay away from singing but was equally interested in seeing one of these places for myself. The rest of the night was spent here with more conversation and, though I staunchly opposed it, some dancing. I think the theory may be right that what translates into awful and erratic movements in the Statts could actually be construed as good dancing here in Korea. It seemed to work this time anyway.
Saturday night began with dinner at a new Korean barbecue place featuring the likes of Terry and myself. Afterward, we went back to see if we couldn't get Chris to join the fray before we headed back downtown. When we met him at his door he seemed in bad shape and explained promptly after that he was still recovering from the night before. Although we had a good evening ourselves, it appeared that our friend here had enjoyed himself as well during those very same hours. Though he initially showed a hesitance to come out with us, a little coaxing and cajoling managed to bump our numbers to three. From there we headed downtown and headed to Soul Train. While we were there we played some pool and met up with another teacher and two of his friends, one of which being a graduate of Michigan State who came over here and was looking to play some soccer. I told him of my similar ambitions and am hoping to see it through in the future. While we were there, Terry insisted on rounds of tequila shots as a way to assimilate better to the Korean culture. We also got to see a show involving the bartenders tossing flaming bottles, strobe lights and techno music. Apparently, this is a common occurrence though I have never been there long enough to see it before. Much later in the evening/morning, we made it to another bar where I found myself, not altogether willingly, engaged in conversation with a middle aged mailman as he showed me some of his English poetry written on a bar napkin. Unfortunately, his English poetry meant, in no way, that he was a capable English speaker and the conversation was considerably strained by a barrier that was made up of equal parts language difference and beer.
With a Friday and Saturday night well spent, the weekend was a success and we have recently been informed that a four day weekend awaits us on the other end of this week. Not entirely sure why we have Monday off, but we have Tuesday off for Children's Day which is a national holiday. I am not one to complain so I won't.
I now have my "green card" so I can get the internet which hopefully means I can get posts in more frequently. That could also mean more Skype-age so be ready America.
This is Liam Thomas signing out.
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