Far from Home for the Holidays

Yikes. So those of you reading this now (if I even have any readership to speak of anymore) realize that it has been a long time since I’ve last blogged. I’ve been busy with work and with dealing with some other things, but I know that it’s no excuse to have kept you in the dark for so long, so for that, I apologize sincerely.

When I left you, the new term was about to begin, and I now find myself starting the fourth week of said term. So far, my classes have been going pretty well. I’m teaching a couple of “regular” classes in addition to my TOEFL classes, which has been a nice change of pace. In those, the kids are younger (elementary school aged, usually around 10 or 11), a whole lot cuter, and a great deal more energetic. In most ways, this has been a good thing, especially because the class structure for these new courses gives me a lot more leeway, and thus a little time to horse around with the kids. My other TOEFL classes have been going alright so far; still a lot of blank stares and heads passed out on the desks, but I am teaching a higher level now, so a lot of my students tend to have a better grasp on the material, which makes my job a fair amount easier.

Other than teaching, life has gone on pretty normally. I went to get a haircut last week and made the mistake of not bringing a Korean friend along for the trip this time. I told myself beforehand that if I wasn’t going to go with a Korean-speaker, I’d at least carry with me a picture of myself with shorter hair to show the stylist what I wanted to look like. Alas, I took none of proper precautions, and my head paid the price. I ended up with a standard “Korean” cut, which basically means that they buzzed me just about all the way to my scalp. In the last week or so it has grown out a bit and doesn’t look as bad, but for the first few days, a couple of my coworkers were calling me “Sergeant” and saluting me every time I passed them in the hallway. Great.

At work today, we actually were treated to a real American, Thanksgiving-style meal for the “Holidays” (a term I’m pretty sure they’re using to avoid offending me and the one other Jew at school with the dreaded “C” word). Although it was about a month late, the meal was nothing to scoff at; they had mashed potatoes, stuffing, vegetables, cranberry sauce, gravy, real turkey, and even pumpkin pie! Of course it couldn't compare to Grandma’s cooking, but I took what I can get, and have to say that it couldn’t have come at a better time- my jones’in level for American food had reached an all-time high. Plus, I actually had the day off, so after stuffing my face I got to go home and lounge around on my sofa instead of having to stand teaching for the next 6 hours.

On my way to the lunch today, I passed three Korean women standing on the sidewalk, all dressed up in full Santa gear. There are a lot of Christians in Korea, and Christmas seems to be a pretty big holiday here (though probably not quite to American proportions), but it was still a funny sight; it was one of the many moments I’m walking around here where I wish I’d had my camera. In fact, we actually have Christmas day off from work, which—based on the impression I’ve hopefully given you about the intensity of the Korean education system—should be the best indication of how important the holiday is.

A Term in Review

Well, it’s Sunday night, and tomorrow morning starts the first day of the Winter term at my Hagwon, i.e. a whole new schedule of classes and a whole new slew of young minds to prod/torture/mold. This seems like as good a time as any to take a moment and reflect on my first three and half months in Korea.

First of all, it seems a little strange to be writing those words- three and a half months. In some ways, my time here has seemed a lot shorter than that. I’ve gotten into a pretty regular schedule, and feel comfortable in my neighborhood and environment. People recognize me at the local bars and restaurants I frequent, even knowing what I’m going to order (perhaps that means I’m a bit too predictable). Even the angry old man who works as the janitor at my local pool has been smiling at me lately. Life is pretty normal.

At the same time, I still experience those “Wow, I’m in Korea, aren’t I?” moments on a fairly regular basis, whether it be while I struggle to explain to my building’s plumber that my toilet is broken, or have to repeat the name of a place four times to a cab driver before he knows where I want him to take me. I’ve enjoyed my time her so far, but that doesn’t mean I’m not missing the comforts and regularities of life in the States—a skype conversation with my family while they enjoyed thanksgiving dinner this week and tried to virtually feed me a forkful of pumpkin pie especially confirmed that feeling.

At school, I still feel like I haven’t quite gotten the hang of this whole teaching thing yet, but every day provides me with a little more experience. I’ll be teaching some upper-level TOEFL classes as well as some regular English classes this coming term, so I am optimistic that my schedule will treat me a little better emotionally and psychologically these next couple of months. The biggest lesson that I’m starting to realize from teaching for 13 weeks is something that my mom likes to tell me on a regular basis: don’t get stressed out about the things in life you can’t control, i.e. most of them. There are a lot of things about what I’m teaching and how my school is organized that has frustrated me at times, but in the end the only thing I can do is try and work around those irritations and do the best with the hand I’m dealt.

Overall, I think there are some pretty nice things that I can hang my proverbial hat on from the last few months. I ran a 10k and am confident that when my bum knee is back to 100% strength, I am capable of training for a marathon (something I never would have dreamed of doing 6 months ago). I’ve lost over 25 pounds since July and feel like I’m in the best physical shape of my young adult life, despite living amongst a crowd of foreigners where eating and drinking healthily is not a particularly high priority. I’ve learned to read and speak (a very little bit) a new language. And I’ve successfully survived as a financially independent person in a country almost 7,000 miles from home. Not too shabby, if I may say so myself.

Putting On My Dancing Shoes (while taking off my regular ones)

I decided to use my Sunday off a little more judiciously than I have my last couple of days off, which have been spent mostly hanging around my apartment. I took the subway into Seoul in the early afternoon to meet Bryan and Carla for brunch at the COEX Mall. I’d spent the last three months or so (basically from the first week I was in Seoul for training) emailing back and forth with Bryan and Carla—a brother and sister from Ecuador who are very good family friends of my cousins—trying to figure out a time and place to meet up, and this was the final outcome of that correspondence. We ate at this American-style place that was pretty expensive but very good- I got a brunch plate that constituted the first solid breakfast food (aside from cereal) that I've had since I've been in Korea. It was great to talk and get to know them a bit; both of them have been in Korea about a year teaching English as well, so we shared stories and exchanged our experiences about life in a foreign land, the spiciness that is Korean food, and the ridiculousness that is the Korean education system.

After brunch, I headed over to my friends’ apartment—only about a 15 minute walk from COEX—and hung out with Kevin and Jae for the afternoon. It’d been a while since I’d seen these guys, who I became really close with during training, so that was time well spent.

Around 6 o’clock, we met up with some other friends and took a subway to Insadong. There, we went to this traditional Buddhist restaurant, leaving our shoes at the door to eat dinner and watch a performance. Kevin had already been four times, so his recommendation seemed pretty solid. The meal was expensive (40,000 won) and completely vegetarian, but was actually really good, in my opinion. There were about 25 dishes overall, including a wide variety of kelp salads, a couple of soups, a number of tofu recipes, and even some kimchi for good measure. It was definitely unlike any meal I’ve ever had before, and the color, variety, and novelty of it made the dinner well worth it.

What really topped the night off, though, was the performance that came right as we were finishing our meal. At 8:45, the lights went dark and an older woman dressed in what I imagine was a traditional Buddhist outfit came out on the small square area in the center of the restaurant and began to dance to a beautiful melody of [again, probably traditional] Buddhist music. After she was finished, she was followed by four other performers, two men and two women, each of whom performed his/her own solo dance for the small crowd of people at the restaurant.

As you can probably tell by my remarks in the previous paragraph, I don’t know a whole lot about Buddhism or Buddhist dance, music, or clothing. While watching the performances, part of me struggled with this fact, feeling like I was missing something very important, almost like watching a movie in a foreign language without the subtitles. In general, when I observe cultural practices or performances like the one last night, I feel a little cheated when I have no sense for the context of what I’m watching. After a few minutes, though, I realized that there wasn’t much I could really do for myself at that point, and in the end was contented to sit back and watch a really interesting performance very much different from anything I could see back home.

After the dancers had finished, they all came onstage together and invited a few members of the audience to join them in dance, which I (with the help of some rice wine in my belly and the strong urging of my friends) decided to accept. I was handed a drum and a large stick with which to bang it and given some brief instructions on the beat by one of the woman dancers, and then we were off. Going round and round in a circle in the small performance area, I started to get pretty into the dance. Again, while part of me felt a bit ridiculous for partaking in this dance that I didn’t know and in which I was clearly an outsider, another part of me said: “Hey, just screw it and have a good time!” And that is what I did. I didn’t come to Korea to become a Korean; I came to Korea to experience and learn about a people and place that I knew almost nothing about. And last night was a perfect example of that process in action.

In Her Shoes

So again, I’ve done a not so good job of updating my blog as regularly as I imagined I would. I think the main reason for that is that I have been waiting for something exciting/super interesting/out-of-the-ordinary to happen to write an entry, so as not to bore my readers with the mundane activities of my day-to-day life. Even though I am in Korea, my average day is pretty run-of-the-mill: eating, exercising, teaching, reading, and watching TV online. After speaking to Packer, my Blogger Sensei, I think maybe I will try and write shorter entries more frequently rather than longer ones every week or two.

This past Friday night I went into Seoul to see a show put on by a coworker of mine at a club in Hongdai, a hoppin part of town known for its abundance of university students and excellent nightlife. Andrew and his group Swingset Committee has been performing at various venues around the country for the last six months or so, and is actually about to embark on a tour in Japan. He sings, while his bandmate plays a little electric violin and works the synthesizer. The show was really good—the music they played was sort of a combination of techno, house, and electronica (as you can probably tell, I’m not very good at identifying musical genres).

The more “interesting” (and I use that word very inauspiciously) part of the evening revolved around an exchange I had outside the club right before I ventured inside. While waiting with some friends for the show to start, I struck up a conversation with these two Korean guys (probably in their late 20s or early 30s) who were there as well. They seemed to be pretty normal and outgoing, so I told them about the show and suggested they come in to see it. As we were going in the door, one of the guys offered to pay my entrance fee to the club, so I thought, “sure, why the heck not save the 10,000 won?!”

Of course, as soon as we are down in the club, that same guy starts to get a little friendlier than he had been outside, if you get my drift. I was trying to be nice because I felt like I at least owed him a little conversation after he paid my way in, but after a few lengthy back pats, it became clear that he was probably looking for more than just conversation. I wasn’t intimidated by the guy at all—he was just this little pudgy guy, probably about 5’’2 or 5’’3—but I had some trouble letting him down easy, and had to be assisted by a female friend who ended up dancing with me rather provocatively in an effort to prove to the guy that I wasn’t interested. In the end, I learned a valuable lesson, and think I experienced to some degree what it must feel like to be a woman at a typical nightclub.

The Pyeongchon 10k

Ladies and gentlemen, as of today the Pensive Sophist would like to add a new bullet-point to his resume: runner of a 10K! Who’s got two thumbs and has run a 10K? This guy [me smugly pointing my two thumbs at myself]! It didn’t go down in quite the way I imagined it would, but still, I will go to bed tonight having completed the first long-distance race of any kind in my life.

As you know, a few weeks ago I was persuaded by my friend Anna to attempt a 10k with her this weekend. The plan was to run in the Nike Human Race, which is a 10k that Nike has organized in cities all around the world to try and get people to get out and run on a global scale. By the time we had heard about the race, the registration for the local one in Seoul had already been closed, but we were told that we could still run the race as long as we weren’t worried about timing ourselves (and not getting one of the cool Human Race t-shirts, as well). For me, that really wasn’t a big deal- honestly, my only concern was being able to finish the race all the way through without having to stop to walk, keel over, pass out, etc.

In the last week, I had been upping my workouts to try and push myself to run further, as evidenced by the gloat at the end of my last blog entry. I was feeling pretty good about the prospect of the race until yesterday, when I got a text message from Anna: the race was actually on Saturday (not Sunday) and was scheduled for 4:00 pm instead of the morning (I work on Saturday evenings). Needless to say, I was pretty bummed. I’d been getting myself amped up for the race in the last few days; we had a small contingent of friends who were going to go to cheer us on with signs, and had even made plans to make our own independently-designed matching t-shirts to wear on race day. The prospect of running with thousands of other people was a little daunting, but also exciting- I wanted to feel like I was really running in a race, not just exercising.

After getting the bad news, I took a little while to mull over my options. Skipping work to run the race would probably get me fired (or at least send me in that direction), so I ruled that out pretty quickly. I could just not run at all- after all, it had only been about two weeks since I decided to do it in the first place, and now I wouldn’t have to push myself. But that idea just didn’t sit right with me. I spent some time browsing the Nike website and saw how much they were encouraging anyone who wanted to go out and run the 10k that day, no matter whom they were with or where they were.

“Screw it!” I told myself. I am going to run this race, whether or not there is anyone there to watch me, cheer me on, or run alongside me. I went mapmyrun.com, a site I use to keep track of my workouts that I was introduced to over the summer by my friend Bentzi, who as a marathoner himself has been a big inspiration for me in the last couple of months (I wear the blue short-shorts he gave me from his marathon everyday when I run), and mapped out a route in my neighborhood: 6.23 miles, or 10 kilometers [http://www.mapmyrun.com/run/united-states/ma/worcester/256125628290026119]. I went on itunes and spent a fair amount of time picking out a playlist for the run, trying to organize it to give me some boosts of musical energy when I thought I would need them most.

And this morning, I woke up, got out of bed, stretched, slapped myself in the face a few times, and on my way out the door looked into the mirror and told myself, “Mark, the next time you see yourself you are going to have finished a 10k.” And I did.

The run went about as smoothly as I could have hoped for, at least physically; there were a couple of times when I wasn’t paying attention and accidently crossed the street when I didn’t have to, but really that was all. I tried to store up energy so I would make sure I’d be able to finish the race, but by the end I was still feeling strong, and definitely could have gone longer if I had wanted to. Before the race, I set a goal for myself to finish in 55 minutes, based on how fast I’ve been running recently (I usually average about an 8:40 mile). I finished the 10k in 54:42, which works out to an 8:48 mile, so I was very pleased with myself, especially considering how much energy I still had at the end.

As I came to a stop at the end of the race, there was no tape to break at the finish line, no crowd of screaming observers, no friends to cheer me on. I didn’t get a shirt to commemorate the day, and no one watching me running today probably even knew that I was running a 10k. Despite all that, do I still feel like I ran a race? Hell yes, I do! That was the Pyeongchon leg of the 2009 10k Human Race. And I did it.

Korean Zionists Say the Darndest Things

I continued my very newly formed routine of using my Wednesday off to go into Seoul and do a little exploring of the city yesterday. This time, though, I had an ulterior motive as well: to begin finding a solution to my whole “way too much free time, and not enough to do” problem. I met a group of friends in the city at what was basically a mall of musical instruments and equipment, and with the help of my friend Kevin (the resident expert) purchased myself a guitar! Teaching myself guitar has been one of those things that I’ve told myself I was going to do for a long, long time. When I was in high school, I bought myself a guidebook for lefties, but don’t think I ever opened it. At the beginning of this summer, I told myself again that I would try and teach myself on my brother’s mini guitar at home, but when I found it and realized it was very much out of tune, I basically gave up. It sat it my room until I left for Korea, haunting me as an unkept promise. So for 80,000 won, I figured, “Hell, learning guitar might be just what the doctor ordered for my Korean listlessness.” I guess we’ll have to wait and see if that is true or not.

What makes for a much better story, though, is what happened afterward. We left the mall and were heading toward a park, guitar in tow, when we were stopped by an old Korean man on the street. Any white person who’s been to Korea (and probably most other places in Asia, as well) knows that getting stopped, questioned, interrogated, or hassled on the street simply because you are, well, white, is a not-too-uncommon phenomenon. There is something strangely exciting about being a physical and visual oddity while walking down the street, as long as you’re able to absorb the unbelieving stares of children and the occasional scowl of an elderly woman or two without taking it too personally.

This particular man began the conversation by asking us where we were from. When we told him we were from the United States and Canada, he then explained to us that he was a person who “studies mankind,” and so wanted to know where our families were originally from. When I told him, “Eastern Europe,” he then asked if I was Jewish, to which I hesitantly replied, “Yes,” not quite sure but interested in what his reaction would be.

When the man heard those words, he basically erupted in excitement. “Jewish!” he said. “I love Jewish people!” With a huge smile on his face, he grabbed me hard by the shoulder and began explaining his deep affection for the Jewish people. He reached up to my face and put his fingers on the crest of my nose, examining its size and explaining to me and the others that I had what was according to him a classically-shaped Jewish nose (yes, apparently that stereotype is alive and well, even in Korea). He started singing Hava Nagila, at which point I really couldn’t help but join in for a few seconds.

The man was particularly interested in talking about Israel, though. “Israel and Korea are the same,” he told me, comparing their histories and each country’s relationship with its neighbors (Israel with the Arabs, Korea with the Chinese and Japanese) and explaining that both had to fight for their respective freedom. He told me that he very much admired Golda Meir for her strength and toughness. The man also said that the Hangul people (which is how you say “Korean” in Korean) and Jewish people were “one,” and then asked me how I thought he could help Israel in the best way. I was pretty taken aback by the question (and frankly by the whole interaction), but tried to think on my feet and told him that the best thing he could do would be to spread the word to his Korean friends about how good of a place Israel is (trying to explain Israel Bonds or the JNF just didn’t seem practical at that moment). Meanwhile, the man had grabbed hold of my arm and kept a firm grip for the length of the conversation. After a certain point, I could tell that my friends weren’t as intrigued by the interaction as I was, so I told the man it was nice to meet him and bid him goodbye.

It’s tough to say whether this was a more contemplative experience than doing Tashlich in the Han River, but it was definitely more surprising. Having a conversation in broken English about Judaism and Israel with an old, probably somewhat drunk Korean man is not something I really expected I’d do during my time in Korea, but then again, I think I’ve come to realize that expectations are not a necessarily useful tool in a place as foreign as Korea is to me.

As a final note, I went running tonight with the intention of getting my regular workout in, as well as officially beginning my short-term training for the unofficial 10k I’m pretty sure I’ll be running in a week and a half’s time. I wasn’t feeling particularly energetic when I left, but about a mile and a half or so into the run, I got a sudden burst of energy, and was able to run for just about the entire length of the Chili Peppers playlist on my ipod nano, which worked out to be a little more than 50 minutes and just over 5.5 miles. This is the longest I think I’ve ever run straight—without stopping or walking at some point in the middle—so that, coupled with the fact that I was tired but not completely dead at the end, made me pretty confident that I at least won’t have any trouble finishing the 10k. I’ve found that with running, I’m at the stage that I’m physically capable of more than I think I am, so it’s really just about putting mind over matter. And thus, I leave you with my self-indulgent shout-out for the day.

Smells like fish...I mean feet...I mean fish...

Hello out there! So, as seems to becoming a recurring trend, it’s been a while since I’ve written last, but I figured that my last quick spurt of posts would hold you over alright. Things here have been going pretty well for me. I’ve settled in nicely at work, so the teaching is getting to be pretty easy (if not a bit mundane). Two of the Interview classes that I teach (and honestly, probably my two favorites) have gotten cancelled, which means I’m down to teaching only five a week, or 15 hours. If you are saying to yourself, “wow, that isn’t very many hours, Mark must have a ton of free time!!” then you are absolutely right- it’s not, and I do.

I’ve still been struggling a bit with the whole quest to find something to fill my time. I was talking to a new friend the other day about running, and she told me that she was going to run a 10k in Seoul in the coming months, so I’m thinking about trying to work toward that. I’ve been running about 5 or 6 times a week pretty consistently since I’ve been here, so I feel like I’m in good shape to attempt a 10k, but I would need to start building up my distances; I usually only run a couple of miles, sometimes because I get tired but sometimes because I start to get a little bored and end up convincing myself I’m tired. I’m not sure how much the idea of running a race in the city smothered by thousands of Koreans really appeals to me, but at least it would give me something to work toward, and the first time I put my relatively new running routine to the test.

In any case, here is a story about another one of those, “Yeah, as it turns out I really am in Korea” moments: On Sunday, I was hanging out with a bunch of friends at their apartment in Seoul proper (the Seoulleong area) when we decided to head out for a visit to “Dr. Fish,” a place where you can go and soak your feet in tanks while dozens of little fish nibble at your dead skin. I’d heard about places like this from people who had already visited Korea before I left home, so it was definitely on my list of things to do. Based on descriptions from others and my own imagination, I had envisioned the place looking something like this: a bare, well lit room with steam coming up from the floor, soft Oriental music playing in the background, and a crew of traditionally dressed hajimas (older women) who would massage my shoulders as the fish took care of my feet.

Suffice it to say that I was a bit off. We got off the elevator and walked into the place to find…a coffee shop. And not just any coffee shop. A big, modernly designed coffee shop, packed with pastel colored fuzzy furniture, an all-you-can-drink coffee and all-you-can-eat bread buffet, and a menu of overly-priced drinks and gelato. The fish tanks were small and unassuming, pushed off to the side of the café and hardly noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. I was pretty shocked to realize that a fish-foot-massage parlor would be located inside a chic café, but I’ve come to learn that in Korea, the line between hip/modern and old-school/traditional is often hard to distinguish.

We ordered drinks (which we had to do to gain access to the buffet and the fish) and sat and talked for a while before heading over to the tanks. Once there, we disrobed (well, more like took our shoes off and rolled up our jeans, but I like that word a lot better) and were given 20 minutes to go at it. There were two different tanks, each of which was about six feet long, two feet wide, and a foot deep, and each containing two different sizes of fish: one with babies about an inch long, the other with slightly bigger ones, but still no more than a couple inches.

We started out at the bigger fish tank, and as soon as we dropped our feet into the water, the fish swarmed, going at the bottoms of our feet and between our toes with a ferocious tenacity. They especially liked my feet in particular, maybe because of their size but more likely because of the calluses I have on my toes and heels (Mmmm, tasty!). It took some getting used to for the first few minutes- definitely very ticklish, but actually pretty relaxing once I settled in. I can’t say the same for some of my friends who came with me, garnering some funny looks from the people sitting nearby because of their yelps and giggling from the fish-induced sensations. After about five minutes in the first tank, we moved to the baby-fish tank, which was pretty similar, although their biting felt more like a pins-and-needles effect than someone just trying to tickle your feet.

While I don’t think the fish really ate any of the skin off my feet, it was still a really interesting and surprisingly calming adventure, one that I promise to provide for anyone who decides to come visit me here (as if you needed any more incentive). To cap off the day in appropriate fashion, that night we headed to a huge wholesale fish market near the Jamsil area where we picked out a couple of large sole from a tank that were then cut up and prepared for us as sashimi and this ridiculously spicy (even for my quickly shifting standards) soup at a restaurant above the market. From fish to feet and back to fish; I guess it is true that what goes around comes around.

Midnight (or later...) Musings

Well, it is currently 2:01 in the AM standard Korean time, even though the timestamp on my blog will lie and try and convince you that it is some normal hour of a Tuesday afternoon. In the past couple of days, I have found myself eager to write, but not really sure what to write about. In actuality, the last couple of days I have started to realize just how much free time I have here. I’m only teaching 21 hours a week, and even with prep time for my classes, actual working hours work out to less than 30 hours. That leaves me with about 138 hours to kill every week (and yes, I did just do that math out in my head, just because I have the time) and only so many of those can be wasted lying around, wrapped in my floral-pattern blanket and pretending to sleep.

Basically, I realized, I need a hobby. I’ve been reading more in the last couple of weeks, which has been good, but just that hasn’t seemed to cut it. Then, there is the movies; I’ve been downloading at a torrid pace and have been watching something I haven’t seen from one of the thousands of top 100 lists out there on the internet (including The Godfather, The Godfather Part II, Casino, Fargo, and 12 Angry Men, to name but a few). But again, while entertaining, watching a movie or TV show just isn’t the kind of stimulation that I’m looking for at the moment.

I’ve tried starting a short story or two, but keep getting stuck, maybe because I still don’t quite feel comfortable enough here to start writing about Korea like I really know the place. So tonight, I went back to my trusty political manifesto. After about an hour of writing and some real hard thinking, I realized that if I want to do it right, the project I originally envisioned is going to have to be a lot more involved. But maybe that’s a good thing- I do have the time, after all.

Well, the next episode of How I Met Your Mother just finished downloading, so I guess I should go try to fall asleep to that, but just a quick story before I sign off. I was teaching one of my Interview classes the other day and conducting a raucous discussion on the importance of physical appearance in Korean society. One of my students raised his hand and explained (in rather broken English) that people shouldn’t care about outward appearances, then told a fable to back up his opinion (good to hear, after spending 90% of the class reminding my students that all good opinions are built on a foundation of strong reasons!).

Now, this story might seem mundane or boring for my average reader, but here is where it gets interesting. The source of the story was…THE TALMUD!! That’s right! His explanation went a little like: “There is a story in the Talmud that says…” I nearly passed out right there in class. Of course, I couldn’t really understand either the moral of the story or what it was about, but I was pretty sure I’d heard the world “Talmud” right. When I asked the student where he’d seen or heard the story before, he looked at me like I was stupid. “What, Teacher? Everyone studies the Talmud here!” And just about all of his classmates started nodding their heads in agreement.

Apparently, the Talmud is as common a school book in Korea as The Great Gatsby is in America. “We all have a copy in our houses!” another student called out, holding her hands about six inches apart to demonstrate the thickness of the volume. It took me about 10 minutes to wipe the smile from my face. I’ve been telling this story to everyone that I can here, but because no one is Jewish they don’t seem to really understand the magnitude of this image of every little Korean boy and girl sitting curled up on a sofa with a mug of rice tea and a copy of the Talmud on their laps. I guess you learn something new every day.

Swine Flu Prophesies...

Well, I’d been in Korea for nearly a month and a half with little medical issues to speak of other than a little intestinal abnormalities, but anyone who has spent more than five minutes with me knows that is a pretty normal thing. Sooner or later, my luck was bound to run out, I guess, and it turned out to be sooner rather than later.

I woke up yesterday morning with a dry throat, but because I tend to sleep with my mouth open (a very arousing image, I imagine) that isn’t terribly uncommon for me. After going for my usual run and hitting the shower, I headed out for work. I only had one class to teach because my evening one was cancelled as a result of the middle school exam period this week, so I was looking forward to a relaxing evening. About an hour into my three hour lesson, my nose began to start running. Then, almost instantaneously, a headache kicked in. Before the end of class, I was thanking the gods that I would be done for the day after three hours, because I was beginning to feel downright crappy. After doing a little bit of post-class paperwork, I headed home, watched some online television, had a long-awaited Skype session with Lavi, and then went to bed. When I woke up this morning, the headache was still present in force, along with an increasingly runny nose, sore throat, body aches, and a general feeling of worsening crapiness.

Now before I go on, I should take a few moments and update you all on the current state of affairs at my school in regard to illness. Since I stepped foot in Korea, I don’t think I’ve gone a day without hearing or being told something about H1N1, the dreaded swine flu. Before even leaving the U.S., for a little while it looked like my plans for the year might have to be changed because of swine flu’s high level of contagion combined with Asian governments’ tendencies to over blow pandemic scares worse than your average 12 year old girl’s fear of spiders. One of the reasons I had to arrive in Korea so much earlier than I was scheduled to start teaching was because of the country’s mandatory 9-day quarantine period for all people entering its borders. Even around other new recruits, I was forced to wear a medical mask for the entire week of my training course.

And things haven’t gotten any better since then. At my school, all students are required to have their temperatures taken by this ridiculous heat-sensing machine that looks more than a little like the first-person view from the original Predator. All faculty (me, included, of course) are required to take our own temperatures upon our arrival at school each afternoon. Before class, we need to sign out a bag containing a hand-held thermometer and face-masks from the front office, and then in the middle of each of our classes we are expected to make rounds and take each students temperature for a second time. If anyone has a fever or looks sick, we have been given strict orders from the higher powers to send the student home immediately. If all of these details haven’t proven it to you already, they are taking the swine flu very seriously here; in my first few weeks on the job, I got more emails about H1N1 and temperature-taking policy than I did about teaching.

So you can imagine that when I woke up feeling just about the whole list of flu-like symptoms from the CDC homepage, I thought it might be a good idea to tell my school about it. Because today was supposed to be my off, I called my faculty manager and asked him what he thought I should do. He recommended I come into work to check my temperature and see if I had a fever, and then from there go see a doctor to get some medication. I couldn’t tell if it was just because we were speaking on the phone, but he didn’t sound all that concerned.

I met up with my friend Andy and biked to school, laboring much more than usual in my condition. At school, I went immediately to the faculty management office and took my temperature: 34.2° Celsius, which translates to roughly 93.5° Fahrenheit. Suspiciously low, but not abnormal for the not-a-so-good thermometer I was used to using there. The other faculty manager at school seemed to take the faulty thermometer’s word as gold, though, hurrying me out of the office and informing me that I didn’t have to worry about the flu. On my way to the stairs, I passed by the Predator thermometer, so figured I would try my luck with it to see how close of a reading it gave me to the first. When I put my face up to the meter, the temperature immediately shot up to 38.4° Celsius, or 101.1° Fahrenheit. The machine then began to beep loudly, and I almost hit the deck, assuming some kind of alien killing machine was going to come out from the supply closet and hunt me down like I was Carl Weathers. “Holy Crap!” I thought. “That isn’t such good news!”

It took a few minutes of conversation with one of the school staff members to figure out that apparently the machine wasn’t working right and had a habit of doing what it did to me. Phew.

Not quite sure about what my temperature was but at least relatively confident that it wasn’t as high as the Predator insisted, I headed down the street toward an area where I was told that there were a lot of medical offices, apparently some place I could find an internal MD. While the average person might not see a doctor for a common cold back home, they don’t sell any real medicine over the counter here, so you have to see a doctor, even for some Benadryl. Having not yet insured myself healthilogically, I was a bit concerned about what the cost of that procedure might be, but I was assured by some Canadians that it would be cheap, at least in comparison to the "ridiculously" high rates we pay in America (I guess that’s the price of freedom).

Using my newly acquired ability to actually read Korean, I located a medical office on the fifth floor of one of the buildings and went up to get seen. After an interesting and vague interaction with the women behind the front desk, I was seated and told that the price might be “very expensive…as much as 20,000 won! [$20]” and that I would have to wait 30 minutes. I happily agreed.

I sat down and waited. Everyone who was there in the room before me was seen. Then everyone who had come to sit and wait after I’d arrived was seen as well. It was becoming clear to me that my foreign status was acting as a roadblock for my chances of receiving some medical advice. Just as I was about to make a fuss, one of the nurses came over and told me I could go in to see the doctor.

I spent about 20 minutes sitting with the doctor in his office. From the beginning, he made it clear to me that he didn’t speak English very well (something he didn’t really have to tell me), and our conversation was certainly hampered by that fact. Still, he was a really nice guy and was clearly exerting a lot of effort to try and make sure he understood my symptoms and his recommendations, so I have to thank him sincerely for that. Basically, he told me that flu and the common cold have basically the same symptoms, so it would be hard for him to know if I really had the flu without me going to the local hospital to get a blood test. He prescribed me a two day dosage of five different medications and sent me on my way.

On my way out of the office, I stopped at the front desk to pay my bill. Based on the conversation I’d had originally with one of the nurses, I was expecting a tab of around 20,000 won. I took out my wallet, and the woman behind the counter said a number in Korean that I didn’t understand, then held up three fingers. 30,000? Okay, a little higher than she’d promised but still reasonable enough. I handed her my credit card and waited for the receipt. When she handed it to me and I looked at it, I almost fell over. The bill wasn’t 30,000 won; it was 3,000. As in roughly $2.50. For an uninsured visit to the doctor! I mean, how ridiculous is that? I’m not exactly sure what the pricetag would have been back home, but I have to imagine at least ten times that. I went across the hall and got my prescription filled for 5,600 won, bringing the grand total of my medical expenses for a rather nasty cold to…8,600 won. Wow. That is all I can say. Wowwy wowwy wow.

As it turns out, it probably is a good thing that they keep those cold drugs behind the counter; I’m not sure what exactly they gave me, but it took only three doses and about 12 hours for me to be feeling nearly symptom free from what I mentioned was a worse-than-average cold. Korea: the home of ridiculously cheap and potent healthcare services. Who knew?!

A very new year

This past weekend marked the beginning of the Jewish new year, and as a Jewish person I decided that I would do my best and celebrate the holiday as best as I could. Unfortunately, I work all day on both Fridays and Saturdays, so I was left to Sunday, the second day of the holiday, to do my celebrating.

To be completely honest, it wasn’t until a conversation with my parents a week or so ago that I even remembered that Rosh Hashanah was coming up. I guess this might provide some kind of hint as to the depth of my religious observance at the moment. In reality, though, I think the last year or so has represented the most dramatic change for my own personal religious involvement, and as a result has led to a serious change in the way that I look at Judaism and my relationship with it as a practical religion.

Despite those changes (and I imagine it’s probably fairly obvious in which direction those changes have pushed me on the observant<-->secular scale), I’ve felt a serious desire to reconnect Jewishly in the last week. I think part of that has a lot to do with the way that, at least for me, Judaism and especially the holidays has so much to do with family. The Jewish holidays are always a time that I love being home, with the familiar sounds of my brothers and sister arguing about something insignificant and the tantalizing smells of my mom’s chicken soup on the stove and brisket in the oven. And now, suddenly, I find myself thousands of miles away from all of that. Of course, being away at college the past four years meant that I wasn’t able to spend every holiday with my family, but even then there was definitely a different sense of distance.

For all these reasons, I was determined to find a Jewish service and meal somewhere in Korea. And who do you turn to when you’re a Jew somewhere very un-Jewish in the world? Chabad, of course! It took only a few minutes of browsing on the cyberweb to find out that there was indeed a Chabad House in Seoul, aka’ed as the JCC of Korea (swimming pool, workout facilities, and goyishe business ethic not included). When I read on their website that they would be hosting services and meals for both nights and days of the Rosh, I signed myself up for the second day.

Sunday morning rolled around, and I was up and out the door by 9 o’clock (very early for English-teacher-in-Korea-standard-time, mind you) to make the hour and a half trip up to Itaewon, where the Chabad House was located. Luckily, I had printed out every piece of map/direction information they gave on their website, because there was nothing resembling a sign or placard anywhere in the vicinity of the building. As I came up the stairs, I was welcomed by two white men standing outside wearing kippot, a sight whose strangeness is hard to explain to someone who has never lived in a place as different from their home as Korea is to mine.

While waiting for services to pick up again (as might be expected, a minyan is hard to come by around here), I got a couple of minutes to mingle with some of the people there- a bunch of other English teachers like me (we make up the majority of the Caucasian population in this country) as well as a couple of American army officers from the base nearby. After a few more stragglers made their way in, services began again, led by one of the rabbis present. The services, which lasted about two hours or so, weren’t particularly engaging, but nevertheless they gave me some time to think about the year that was, which had included some rather important life-changing experiences for me. In the end, that is really what Rosh Hashanah is all about, so I think I got what I had come for.

After services were over, we went inside and enjoyed a nice Jewish-style meal, complete with challah and honey, chicken, couscous, and even some chulent! I’d been craving some Hebrew cooking, so it definitely hit the spot, although also made me appreciate just how much better of a cook my grandmother is than about anyone else on the planet.

Once the meal was through, we went back outside for a quick Minchah service before heading out toward the water to take part in Tashlich (which is, for those terminologically-challenged, a tradition in which we throw bread into a body of running water to symbolize the throwing-away of our sins). That’s right: Tashlich on the Han River. It was a sight to see, as can be attested by the crowd of Korean passersby who watched on in amazement, one of whom even grabbing his cell phone and videotaping the entire event to bring home to his disbelieving wife.

On the walk back toward Itaewon and the subway station, I engaged one of the young rabbis there in a conversation about Judaism. Over the course of 30 minutes or so, we talked about a lot, but mostly focused on the subject of intermarriage and the position of orthodox Jews in the world, particularly in Israel. As you can probably imagine, we didn’t quite see eye-to-eye, and I left the conversation feeling rather unfulfilled and frustrated, the tell-tale signs of a classic Jewish debate. All in all, though, I accomplished what I had set out to do—have a Jewish experience in a genuinely non-Jewish place—and so in the words of one of the great Jewish scholars, Tupac Amaru Shakur, “I guess it was a good day.”

I had a day off yesterday, and with my new ride of a beat up used bike, I decided to explore town a little better and check out a swimming pool about a mile and a half from my place. I’d found it online a few weeks ago but hadn’t had the chance to get over there, but more recently I’ve been itching to get back into the water, so I figured, “Heckity heck, why the heckity not?!”

The bike ride took me about ten minutes, and then it took about another five to actually find where the swimming pool was (I only knew it was in a general vicinity, right next to the local basketball arena and ice hockey rink. Yes, that’s right- Koreans do play ice hockey). I went inside and spent a good fifteen minutes trying to figure out what the deal was at the pool—hours, price, stuff like that—with the woman behind the counter, who spoke just about no English. After a while, I realized that she was showing me the schedule for classes, so when I explained that I just wanted open-lap swim, she flipped the page and showed me the hours for that. This kind of experience has been pretty common for me, thus far; there aren’t very many people here who speak any English, so I’ve had to practice my speaking-with-my-hand skills.

I went into the locker room, changed, and went out to the pool. The pool was Olympic-sized, with half of the water set up with lane-lines going across the pool’s width, and the other half being used by a huge water aerobics class, being led by a woman on the deck who was screaming into a microphone as music played in the background. As I was making my way to get into the pool, I noticed that everyone swimming was wearing a bathing cap, and sure enough, before I could even stick my feet in one of the lifeguards came over and pointed to my head, as if to say, “What, you were planning on jumping in with nothing on your head?” When I explained to her (once again, with my hands) that I didn’t have a cap of my own, she led me to the pool office, where this young swim instructor who spoke fluent English and looked really excited to see a white guy around gave me a bathing cap to use. Which was bright, neon green. Needless to say I looked ridiculous; even they were laughing in my face, but I figured I was going to stand out so much already in a pool of all Koreans that the neon green cap wasn’t going to make too much of a difference.

I got in to swim, but found quickly that things were going to be a little difficult. The lanes of the pool were jam-packed, with about five or six people in each, so it was pretty hard to get up and down the length of the pool. I’m no Marc Spitz, but I also happened to faster than everyone else in my lane, but trying to pass people was nearly impossible with the congestion. After about 30 minutes of swimming, I got out, feeling like I’d gotten at least somewhat of a workout, but more frustrated than anything. The next time I go, I’m going to make a point to do it in the middle of the day when more people are at work, so hopefully that will make things a little better.

I got out of the pool, took a quick shower, and then went to my locker to change. I wasn’t sure whether or not the pool would have towels, and honestly I didn’t really have an extra one at home, so I basically just had to air-dry. Apparently I didn’t do such a good job of it, and as I was putting on my clothes a janitor came by, saw the puddle of water at my feet, and began lecturing me in Korean. It was pretty easy to tell why he was upset, but of course I didn’t actually understand anything he was saying. In any case, he seemed a little too angry for something that wasn’t a big deal (especially for a guy whose job it is to mop up the bathroom), so I just hurriedly put on the rest of my clothes and ran out of the locker room. As luck would have it, in my hurry I forgot to put back the locker key, so as I made my way out the door an alarm went off, and seconds later out came the janitor again, this time yelling at full volume. I realized my mistake, handed him the key, and scampered out of the building, a bit shaken but at least happy that I’d finally found a pool. I guess next time I’ll have to remember to bring a towel.

[Just as a preface, I wrote this blog entry two days ago, when my apartment suddenly decided to stop providing me with free internet. As such, you are essentially reading the past (as will be clearly evident from my last sentence). So just think of it as a little gift of quantum mechanics.]

So, once again I have done a terrible job of keeping this blog updated. But in either case, all this time means I have much news to report! I began teaching, and am just about to start my third week in the classroom. At the beginning, teaching definitely took some getting used to. At my school, all teachers are given a very detailed and jam-packed schedule that we are supposed to follow for each class. It makes planning out class a lot easier, but it took me a few classes to be able to figure out just how to manage fitting everything in.

The teaching itself has its ups and downs. I’d say that the two biggest factors that affect my enjoyment level of each of the seven different classes I teach every week are who I’m teaching and what I’m teaching. Most of my classes are prep courses for the IBT, or Internet-based Toefl, the foreign language fluency test that students take here (and everywhere else in the world) to get into competitive schools, international schools, and foreign universities in English-speaking countries. Those classes tend to be relatively dull, something along the lines of an SAT prep class, but the kids are much younger (most of my students are middle schoolers) so it’s my job to make class fun, or if not fun than at least not mind-numbing. My other two classes are called Interview and Discussion classes, in which I work with kids who are preparing to have interviews for some of the country’s top international middle schools. Those classes are definitely livelier, just because the whole point of them is to get kids to talk and voice their opinions.

In general, a lot of the kids I see are just plain old exhausted, and honestly I don’t blame them at all. Students in Korea who attend private English academies like the one at which I teach are in school from 8 in the morning until 10:30 at night. That’s right- that was no typo. These kids are literally in the classroom for 14 hours a day. By the time I get them, it’s 4:30 and they have already sat through a full day of school, so it isn’t any surprise to me that they spend the five minute breaks we give them every hour of the 3 hour lessons with their heads on their desks. If I am exhausted after teaching for six hours straight, you can imagine what my students must be feeling. But in any case, teaching has been going well so far and each class that I teach gives me more and more confidence and allows me to relax a bit more.

Outside of the classroom, life has been settling in well. Last week, I was able to put together and hang up a large set of curtains for my enormous windows, which made me feel like a pretty handy guy. Over the weekend, I did a little decorating my apartment with some posters I’d brought from home, so the place is starting to feel a bit cozier; as long as I have the Catalan flag above my head and Tupac and Ringo looking down at me, I think I’ll be alright. I also picked up a used bicycle today from a rather sketchy looking shop/lot that should come in very handy; just about everyone here has a bike, and with school only a 10 minute ride away it makes things very convenient.

I should probably hit the sack now, as I’m waking up in 7 hours or so to catch the Pats live on Monday Night Football (it’s actually Tuesday Morning Football here, but still it’s a party).

Settling In to Pyeongchon

So for all you followers of the Pensive Sophist who have been waiting for my next post, sorry about the delay. As you can guess, I’ve been pretty busy the last week, with the end of training and all the little things that go into starting a real life in Korea. I got my official placement in Pyeongchon, which is about a 30 minute subway ride south of Seoul in Anyang City. I was initially a little disappointed that I wasn’t placed in the heart of the city like some of the friends I’ve made so far, but the more I’ve gotten to learn and see of Pyeongchon, the more I am realizing that it should be a good place to be. Since it’s outside of Seoul, it’s not quite as hectic and busy as the city. It’s still well built-up, with lots of restaurants and bars, but there is also some green space—including a nice big park only 5 minutes or so from my apartment with basketball courts and an outdoor rollerblading rink—and the air here is noticeably cleaner than it is in Seoul. The icing on the cake is that Pyeongchon is actually Chungdahm’s (the school I work for) second biggest branch, so there are about 45 other teachers there, and thus lots of new people to meet.

Over the last couple of days, I’ve been moving into my apartment, which is in a high-rise building right across the street from the subway station and an E-Mart, which is a 4 level shopping store pretty similar to a Walmart (though not quite as cheap). The E-Mart has a big grocery store plus just about everything I’ll need for my new apartment, so it’s very convenient and takes a lot of the stress out of moving into a new place. My apartment is unfurnished, so tonight I’ll be sleeping on a pad I bought, although I ordered a bed online with the help of a Korean friend that theoretically should be making its way here tomorrow afternoon.

I also got my teaching schedule today, which looks pretty solid. I’m only teaching 21 hours a week, and have Sundays, Mondays, and Wednesdays off, so I should have a fair amount of relaxation time. I’ll be teaching iBT (internet-based TOEFL) prep classes as well as a couple classes called “Interview and Discussion” where I’ll basically be helping prepare 4th and 5th graders for their interviews to get in to the top private middle schools in the country. I’m more than a little nervous about teaching for the first time, but I’m hoping that it just takes a couple lessons under my belt before I get comfortable.

I’ll end with a good story: last weekend I spent an afternoon at an outdoor market in Insadong with a couple of my new friends, aka the Wolfpack. While there, I tried bundegi, which is roasted silkworm larvae, or in more simple words, bug. I have a personal credo that I’ll try anything once, so I tried to let that guide me as the woman at the stand was scooping a large spoonful of the bugs into a cup for us from a big, steaming vat of insect stew. My friend Kevin pointed out that it’s easy to tell where they’re selling bundegi because of the smell, and he was right; it was pretty foul. The bundegi was a bit crunchy but chewier than I would have expected, and tasted about the same as it smelled: not-a-so-good. Who would have thought I’d be eating bug this soon? I guess I’m not in Kansas anymore.

Batter Up!

This weekend was what I’ll call my “cultural awakening” to the city of Seoul. I met a whole slew of knew people—Koreans, Americans, Canadians, and Brits—and got a chance to really explore a couple of different neighborhoods of the city, including Gangnam, Hongdae, and Gangdong. But perhaps the most interesting thing I did this weekend was attend my first Korean baseball game: the LG Twins (of Seoul) vs. the Lotte Giants (of Busan).

On Saturday afternoon, I met up with some of the new people I’d met the night before, and together we headed to the Sports Complex, which is a large collection of sports facilities that includes one of the stadiums used for the World Cup in 2002 as well as Jamsil Stadium, home of the Twins. We came out of the subway and were immediately confronted with a massive crowd, thousands of people deep. Set up around the stadium were dozens of small booths and tables of vendors selling all sorts of Korean foods—dried squid and pickled radish, included—as well as some not-so-Korean-foods like KFC. Other vendors sold drinks, especially beer. It was a pretty amazing sight, almost like an entire market had sprung up for game time.

We waited on a long line for tickets, and when we got to the booth we found out that all the regular seats were sold out, so all that was left were standing-room. Not to be deterred, we bought a couple of those (they were only 6,000 won a piece, which is roughly $5, not bad when compared to Fenway) and then headed to the main gate. Before going in, we quickly finished our beers, only to find that you are actually allowed to bring into the stadium anything you buy outside, an extreme rarity at American or European sporting events.

We came into the stadium in the middle of the first inning, and I was immediately taken aback by what I saw. The 30,000+ person stadium was completely filled, the stands all red and white, with many fans wielding inflatable sound sticks used to cheer on the home team. And cheering they were; the atmosphere resembled a college basketball game, with the fans going wild at every single pitch and at-bat. I couldn’t believe that people were getting this riled up about baseball; you would almost never see that in the States, and I think I’ve been to some of the rowdiest and most fan-intense stadiums in America. These people were literally as crazy as just about any of the European football (soccer) fans I saw while in Europe last spring. On top of each of the dugouts were two crews of cheerleaders—one of which was dressed in long traditional Korean dresses, the other in rather scanty high school dancer outfits—that were leading the crowd in various orchestrated chants and cheers.

The bleachers were packed, so we followed suit of the dozens of other people with standing-room tickets and found places to sit on the cement stairs leading up to the seats. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, especially with people climbing over us every half inning to ascend or descend the stairway, but I think it still beat standing. We stayed until the middle of the sixth inning or so, then decided to leave, partially because it was a boring game (although my British friend didn’t really know the difference, anyway) but mostly because it was about 90 degrees with 1000% humidity in there, so I’d just about sweat all the way through my t-shirt. All in all a very interesting experience, one that I’ll definitely do again, especially if the weather gets a little cooler.

Sleepless Mornings

Woke up at 6:30 am again this morning and again felt like I had been sleeping for days, even though last night I didn’t get to bed until around 1. I’m hoping this whole jetlag thing starts to wear off soon- I’m not sure I’m ready to become a morning person quite yet. This time though, I didn’t go back to sleep, deciding instead to make better use of my time, as long as I was awake enough. So I started working on my personal political manifesto, something I’ve been thinking about doing for a long time but hadn’t gotten around to starting. I’m calling it “Rules and Regulations of a Decent, Fair, and Just Society.” I’m only about three pages in, and its months and many, many edits away from being worthy of public criticism, but still, I’m excited I’ve finally started it.

I decided I would test out the free “continental breakfast” this morning since I was awake for it, so went downstairs at around 8:15 to see what it was like. Breakfast was held in this tiny little sweatshop of a room in the basement of the building, and included cereal, some cut up bananas and oranges, and hardboiled eggs. It was about what I expected it would be, so I wasn’t very disappointed. Certainly not worth waking up for, though.

On my run this afternoon, I decided to aim for the park again, this time trying to look it up on Google Maps before I left. As it turns out, Google Maps here is in Korean, so it’s pretty difficult to navigate for someone like me who is still struggling with getting down “hello” and “thank you.” I ended up finding what I’d been looking for, but it wasn’t a park in the sense of the word that I knew it; instead, it was a large complex of apartments and businesses interspersed in a fenced in green area. I did manage to find a little recreation area that had outdoor exercise equipment—a few bench presses and a couple of funny-looking machines that you stand on and rotate 180 degrees so you are literally upside down (I saw a middle-aged Korean man doing this in a full dress suit, and I had to struggle not to laugh)—but that was about it. Not really what I was looking for in terms of a good place to run, but still an adventure.

On my way back to the hotel, I walked through this neat neighborhood made up of back alleys that were bustling at midday. I wanted to stop and get some fruit at one of the street vendors, but I didn’t have my dictionary with me, and was afraid I’d get ripped off if I tried haggling with the guy, so I stopped in at a little grocery store a few blocks down instead. That was an interesting experience itself; I wanted to get a sense for what kind of things were in the average Korean grocer, and I think I figured that out. There were some familiar items and even a small section of imported goods (including cans of Ragu tomato sauce for 5,500 won), but mostly it was new. A lot of fresh packaged seafood, a lot of dried goods, and a LOT of Ramen. The dairy section had milk, yogurts, and a small amount of cheese, but I am still struggling to figure out if they sell skim milk here (and if they do, what the label looks like).

When I got back to the hotel, I asked the guy behind the front desk for a map of the city and the metro system, which he was able to produce for me after looking in the back closet for a minute or two. He showed me where on the map our hotel was, which was a very useful exercise. As it turns out, my hotel is not in central or downtown Seoul. In fact, I am on the opposite side of the river as downtown. Still, having the map did help me orient myself a bit to the district of the city where I am. I found out that I’m not too far from the Olympic Park (only a couple of stops on the metro), home to the Summer Games in 1988. I was also able to find some legitimate-looking parks on the map that are pretty close, so I think I might try running to one of them tomorrow.

Wandered around the area for a while in the afternoon, then finally settled on a place for lunch. I wasn’t quite sure what I had ordered until a woman brought out what was basically a bowl of greens with a fried egg, along with the usual side dishes (kimchi, pickled radish, etc.) and a bowl of something that I found out was soybean paste soup after confirming with the waitress (my first attempt at Korean!). I was able to get through lunch with a minimum amount of sweating, so I was thankful for that.

I have my first session of training for Chungdahm this evening, which will consist of an exam covering the company’s history and code of conduct, as well as some basics in English grammar and reading comprehension. After all those years of Spanish and Hebrew, I’ve finally learned what the present perfect progressive is. I’m hoping the session tonight will give me a chance to meet some more people, especially some others who are staying at my hotel so I’ll at least have some people to get to know over the weekend. Should be an interesting and informative evening.

Day 1: A River Runs Through It

I woke up this morning at 6:30, sure that it must be after noon. I guess that is the jet-lag kicking in, although I have never been one to fall victim to that syndrome before. Eventually, I was able to go back to sleep and then woke up again at around 9. After taking a few minutes to orient myself, I put on my new pair of running shoes and headed downstairs to take a jog. On my way out the building, I stopped at the front desk to ask the receptionist if there was a park anywhere around that would be good to run to. In very broken English, she handed me a shoddy map of the area and told me there was something about ten minutes away, but I couldn’t tell if that was driving or walking- I assumed the former, by the way she said “very far”. I’ve only had a few interactions with locals so far, but honestly, I’ve been a little surprised by how little English people speak. I know that it’s not a good idea to assume that people will speak my language perfectly, and I am going to try and be as patient with that as possible, but I expected that at least the stewardesses and receptionists would be able to speak English. No such luck.

I left the hotel and took a left down the major street that the hotel was off, trying to avoid getting completely lost on my first venture out into the city. I expected to get some funny looks on my way, as a tall white guy in little blue running shorts, but I actually didn’t notice all that much attention. The streets were filled with Koreans on their way to work, but thankfully not overcrowded to the point that I had to do very much ducking or dodging. I tried to do as much visual reconnaissance of the area as I could, and noticed that every other storefront seemed to be a coffee shop, including at least five or ten Dunkin Donuts places. I went about as far as I figured I should without running into a park or anything that looked remotely like a park, so I turned around and headed back toward the hotel, stopping on the way at a little convenient store to pick up some strawberry milk and shampoo. Of course, despite my attempts to remember where I was going, I ended up getting lost trying to find my way back to the hotel, going up and down a few wrong side-streets before I eventually found the right one.

By the time I’d gotten back, I had to rush to shave and shower to be back downstairs by 11, when I was supposed to be met by a driver to take me to get a medical exam and drug test. I got downstairs and found another American, Eric, and the driver waiting for me, so we got in the van and headed out. The drive to the medical office was about thirty minutes, during which I got to know Eric a bit. He was also a first-time visitor to Korea, but had been out of school for a long while and apparently teaching elementary school English in Texas for the last 10 years. We also drove a good distance across the city, and I started to get a sense for just how big of a city Seoul really is. We crossed over the Han River, which basically divides the city in half, and it was almost as if there was an entirely different city lying on the other side of the water, with different architecture and a unique feel to the area we were in before (which I'm pretty sure was downtown). I think it’s going to take me a while to really get a feel for Seoul's size, neighborhoods, etc.

We got to the office and our driver, a middle-aged Korean man, ushered us inside the building, where a couple of women took our weight, height, and blood-pressure before we had a quick dental exam (lasting literally 30 seconds), had our blood drawn, took an eye test, had a chest x-ray, and a urine test.

And that is where it all went downhill for me. Not really remembering that I was going to have to take a urine test, I didn’t drink much water after coming back from my run, so I was pretty dehydrated when we showed up at the office. After one of the women handed me to two cups, I headed to the bathroom but quickly realized that I couldn’t pee, so turned back around and went out to the water fountain next to the front desk, beginning to chug as much water as I could. After about five minutes and 10 or so little cups of water, I went back to the bathroom, but again, nothing. At this point, just about everyone in the office seemed to take an intense interest in my “issue.” The women behind the counter were giggling, pointing at the water fountain and telling me to keep drinking. Our driver, up until that point simply an interested bystander, came over to me and began signaling me to rub my belly and jump up and down, apparently convinced that this would help me go. We went to finish up everything they needed to do for the rest of our test, then came back to see if I would be able to pee. I chugged a few more cups of water then headed back into the bathroom, this time with our driver following me into the stall, pressing the flusher, and pointing at the toilet, I guess in some kind of last-ditch effort to summon the pee out of me. By this point, I think what was keeping me from going was more nerves than anything; having a group of people in the waiting room all sitting expectantly added some really unnecessary pressure to the situation. Finally, after another five minutes or so, I was able to elicit a brief stream, just enough to fill both cups up to their respective lines.

Yikes, that was close.

After we got back to the hotel from the medical exam, I met up with Eric again and we went to get some lunch at a place around the corner from our hotel. Eric is a Seventh Day Adventist, and thus vegetarian, so he had some trouble finding something to eat on the menu. I told him a little about kashrut and my difficulty with eating while I was in Spain a year ago, trying to let him know that I felt his pain. I ordered a duck dish, which as it turned out, ended up coming with five or six different side dishes of vegetables, soups, and teas. Just about everything was very, very spicy. I knew that coming in to Korea I was going to have to adjust my palate to the local cuisine, but I guess I hadn’t prepared myself well enough; I was literally sweating from the brow from the moment I picked up my chopsticks. Lunch was good, though, and for 6,000 won (about $5.50) very affordable.

After eating, I decided to head back to the hotel to lay down for a while, so I parted ways with Eric. What was supposed to be a short nap ended up turning into 3 hours, so when I woke up at around 8 I was groggy and hungry. I changed and left the hotel to walk around a bit and find some place to eat. In the neighborhood of my hotel, there are a ton of restaurants, almost exclusively of Korean food. When I got nearer to one of the major train stations, I did see a Bennigans and a burger joint, but decided that I would try and stay local for at least the first couple of days to get a sense for what kind of Korean food I like and what I don’t. I ended up settling on a place a couple of blocks from the hotel. A bunch of restaurants I passed were set up with small tables only a few feet off the ground, with people sitting on little mats on the floor with their shoes off. I almost went in to one of these, but then decided that I would wait until I was with a little bigger of group before I took that adventure. For dinner, I got a plate of meat kebabs, and once again the spice-level knocked my socks off. I was hungry, but after eating about half the plate of meat, I literally had to stop because the food was just too hot. I am really going to have to get used to this, or at least start figuring out how to order some dishes that won’t require me bringing a handkerchief to the table.

So here are a few of the mist important first impressions that I’ve made in my first day and half in Korea:

-Casaville Residence’s trademark: “Service like at a hotel, living like you are at home” rings relatively true. I especially like the two pairs of sandals that come with the room, and the working AC is stupendous.

-I’m pretty sure I could make a living working for Korean companies trying to post signage in English, if I could only convince them of how inaccurate their English is in its current condition.

-The food here is HOT, and I mean very, very, very hot! But at least the strawberry milk is rich and delicious.

-I have to start working on my bow; more generally, the hand gestures and body signals here are completely different than what I am used to back home.

-I think signing up for a Korean class should probably be one of my top priorities. Or at least getting better about carrying around my Berlitz pocket-guide.

The Trip East (well actually, west)

These last few days have been pretty surreal; saying goodbye to my friends and family didn’t feel like I thought it should have, but I’m pretty sure that’s because it hadn’t quite yet hit me that I wouldn’t be seeing most of them for at least a year. It wasn’t until I was on the plane in New York and we were taking off that I said to myself, “Crap, Mark. You are leaving the country for a year. You are going to Korea. Korea!” I know that going to Korea is something that I want to do, something exciting, and something that I have been looking forward to for a long time, but at the same time, it’s scary. Honestly, it’s very scary. I’m hoping that the nerves start to wear off once on my feet in Seoul for a few days and have gotten my bearings.

The plane ride itself was fine- long, but fine. I got seated in the front row of my section in the middle of plane, which meant a fair amount of extra leg room. For a person of my size (6’3), that can make a hell of a difference on a 14 ½ hour flight. I watched three movies (Star Trek, I Love You Man, and Wolverine) and slept for an indeterminable amount of time, having no watch to figure these things out. Every time I woke up, there seemed to be a meal on its way, which I ate mostly to pass the time and because it was put in front of me and there wasn’t anything else to do with it. By the time we were getting in, I was very happy to get off the plane- my knees were beginning to feel like those of an 80 year old arthritic man.

From Incheon Airport, I went through customs and got on a bus headed to the CAT, or Central Airport Terminal, in Seoul. The bus ride was about an hour, and on the way I sat next to another guy who is going to be working for Chungdahm and talked to him about home life, our expectations for Korea, and a little sports, too. Between the waiting area outside my gate in New York and the airport, I’ve already met a couple of people who are going to be doing the same thing as I am, so talking to them was a bit of a comfort. Coming into the city, the view was urban but still very attractive, having a lot to do with the sun setting behind us. Also, perhaps the most notable thing on the drive into the city was the immense amount of traffic in both directions, which surprised me a little, considering it was after 7:30. I guess that’s what happens in a city of over 10 million. At the CAT, I used a payphone (with a fair amount of trouble and a few wrong number calls) to get in touch with my recruiter, who told me to take a cab to the Casaville Residence Hotel.

By the time I got to the hotel, I was feeling dirty and very exhausted, so I literally just showered and got into bed.

Starting Fresh

Hi, all. So yeah, remember when I promised to upload my entire journal from that road trip I took with my brothers at the beginning of the summer…and remember when I promised that I would be writing a fair amount about other various things that I think/believe/think I believe… Well as it turns out, I’m more of a liar than I realized I was. Honestly, I spent the last couple of months relaxing, reading, hanging out with friends, watching TV, and generally doing very little that was productive with my time- and that was exactly what I needed.

So here I am again, promising to start writing more regularly, but with a new focus in mind: I have just begun my journey as an English teacher in Seoul, South Korea for a year. From this point on, this blog will be a record of my experiences in Seoul: living, eating, teaching, meeting new people, and hopefully learning a good deal about a part of the world that is completely and utterly new and foreign to me. In doing so, I imagine I will be learning a lot about myself, as well. And I also imagine that along the way, all of that stuff about what I think/believe/think I believe might come up once or twice, as well. So away we go…or away I go, at least.

Road Trip- Day 1

Well, it’s 10:53 p.m. central time on Thursday night, and I am currently four days and 1,274 miles into the three week road trip I began with my two brothers, Lavi and Howie, earlier this week. We left Pittsburgh on Monday afternoon after having spent the weekend celebrating my graduation from Carnegie Mellon, an event which certainly warrants an entry of its own, one I will write as soon as I get some time to sit down and flesh out my thoughts. But for now, I’m about 107 miles outside of Dallas, and because I was relegated to sitting in the backseat for the next two hours figured this would be as good a time as any to start writing about our trip.

So far, we have spent the last three nights in Nashville and Memphis, both of which are cities that I thoroughly enjoyed visiting and getting to know, albeit briefly. We also had the chance to make a stop in Louisville, KY for dinner on Monday night, as well as a quick detour late this afternoon in Little Rock, AK. I think what I’ll do is try to organize the next few entries into a bullet list of places we visited and thoughts that accompanied those places:

Monday, May 18, 2009

--> Mark’s Feed Store, Louisville, KY

After having spent about 7 hours in the car from Pittsburgh, we made the executive decision at some point that afternoon to stop in Louisville for dinner. I think we did this not only because we were getting hungry (which we were), but also because we didn’t want to feel like we had driven from western Pennslvania to Tennesee without having seen anything. In reality, we had driven through Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio, Kentucky, and Tennessee, the largest number of states we’ll see in a day on this trip except maybe for the bulrush of a return drive we have planned for the end. Before they left Worcester, my brothers picked up a box full of AAA maps and guidebooks for every state we would drive through, and then some, so we used the one for Kentucky to try and find a place we could stop for dinner that would be relatively cheap, but more importantly delicious.

What we found was Mark’s Feed Store, a joint that more than adequately satiated both of those desires. Both Howie and I were looking for a place where we could get some authentic southern BBQ, and Mark’s hit the spot perfectly—I had half a chicken that left me stuffed and wishing I could somehow learn to replicate the creation of such a meal in my kitchen in Korea, or anywhere for that matter. I will certainly not claim to have any kind of expert knowledge of Louisville or its culinary offerings, but if you’re ever down there my suggestion would be to check this place out. Not only was the chicken great, but they also had fried corn on the cob that was really fantastic as well.

--> Somewhere on Highway 65 outside Horse Cave, KY

Horse Cave, which we happened upon while driving between Cincinnati and Louisville, is the birthplace of my great grandfather and the town in which he opened the first of his department stores in the early 1900s. We didn’t have the time to get off the road and drive around (the best we could do was unsuccessfully attempt to get a picture of the exit sign from the highway), but it’s not like I would have recognized anything in town anyway—I’ve never been there myself, and I would be surprised if my grandmother could even recognize any town landmarks.

Still, there was something interesting about driving by Horse Cave. I guess in some alternate universe I could have grown up there, although given all the variables that went into me being removed from my mother’s uterus on March 11, 1987, maybe that’s not really accurate. For my entire life, the only taste I’ve gotten of the southern life of my grandmother and her whole family has come through visits to Oklahoma (where a good portion of my family still lives), family dinners, and of course conversations with my grandmother. This is a part of my identity that is important but not particularly constant in the day-to-day activities of my life. In some ways, I’m hoping that this road trip will reconnect me with those roots and make me a little bit more intimately acquainted with a part of the country that is in some ways my home but in many more is a strange and foreign place.