Somehow I managed to escape the perils of jetlag when I flew to Korea. I arrived in the afternoon and managed to go on a nice power walk throughout a neighborhood of Seoul with my aunt. Now I'm back at home, waking up at 3 am and taking 4 hr naps at 3 pm. I've missed Oprah two days in a row! I tried so hard to stay up until 4 pm today but I lost steam around 3:30, probably a result of my 1:30 Taco Bell lunch. So I'm going to stay up for as long as I can here and then go to sleep (hopefully around 2?) and then go on with my day tomorrow just like any other Wednesday in Coppell, Texas. No poignant revelations in this post (not that there were every any before); just my own desperate attempt to stay awake.
It seems that my attempts to break into Hollywood grandeur have officially infiltrated my subconscious. Last night I dreamed that I was making a home video for Julianne Moore, her husband, Greg Kinnear, and Laura Linney at some swank lounge. Now, I did just see a preview for Mr. Juliane Moore's new movie starring Julianne and I saw Little Miss Sunshine with Kinnear earlier this week. But Ms. Linney. That was a wildcard. So what would Freud have to say about this? Well, I'm somehow so obsessed with Hollywood that I would be willing to play fifth wheel and video tape these celebrities...and Julianne is probably my mother who I've suppressed latent oedipal feelings for (I did find Julianne quite fetching in Boogie Nights) and Greg Kinnear...hmm...I want to be him? I mean, he was nominated for an Oscar.
From Hollywood to lying awake in my bed at 3:30 am, I quickly decided that I absolutely HAD to go to Taco Bell today for lunch. So everything I did from then on revolved around how I would somehow make it to the Taco Bell drive-thru after a jog in the park. Mission accomplished. Not really too hard considering it just involved attempting to read a Korean GQ at 4 in the morning and my sitting in front of the computer writing a TOEFL test section until about 11. Slowly reading the GQ quickly turned into just looking at the pictures and TOEFL test writing morphed into finding album art for my itunes and listening to Christina Aguilera's new album.
If this is how it continues on, I'm in deep shit.
But somewhere between Taco Bell and the local Albertson's, I did decide to retake the LSATs in December and take the TestMaster's Prep course starting the end of September.
More deep shit.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Monday, August 28, 2006
Ode to Hoyah
I started off this blog with a pretty negative attitude and left Korea with a pretty awful experience packing and having to make an abbreviated goodbye to my friends as I left for a Korean island. So this is it then? I'm back in the States...and I've yet to stop by Taco Bell or kiss the ground in gratitutde of the great U.S. of A. In fact, I'm just faced with a lot of apprehension and anxiety. Friends are moving on in life and in school and I'm...still here. Provided it's only been 2 days since I've been back, but still, everything about me at this moment tells me that I should be on vacation. I'm sitting in my pajamas in front of the computer at 9 AM, home alone and a week filled with mindless errands. The last time I did this was...winter break, when I knew I didn't have any homework because the semester would start anew with new classes and old faces.
So all I've got to salvage any bit of personal dignity is to think back on all those good times in Korea. After the incident in the subway station, I was almost certain that that would be my defining moment in Korea. And in a way, it has been. Whenever anyone asks me about my time in Korea, I always think of that one incident, but ofcourse I just give my well-rehearsed, neutral answer of "oh, it was really great. I was really blessed to have that opportunity, even though it was really challenging. But I met some really good people...blah blah blah." I feel like I'm rehearsing a monologue for a bit part on 7th Heaven.
Cheryl, always one to comfort me in my complaining, told me that ofcourse, that one incident would not be the defining moment from Korea. As much as I'd like to think she's wrong, at moments like this, when all I've got is to look at the good times and not the bad, I see that I have some great moments to add to my mental photo album. So what if they consisted of 45 minute lunches at a nearby snack bar or drinking beer on plastic chairs outside a local convenient store? I've realized that I need to make a concerted effort to make my own defining moments throughout all the ups and downs...and finding them is not really as hard as I make it out to be.
Here's to the people who helped make my defining moments of summer 2006:
Juliana: My fellow TOEFL Speaking/Writing teacher in crime. She travels the world AND she's a snowboard instructor. How 'bout that. Thank you for always going to McDonald's with me and cracking jokes about our TOEFL curriculum. Um..and did I mention that she got 3rd place in a dance competition at one of the biggest clubs in Seoul?
Ms. Jenny O: Cheryl is definitely right. Jenny was the girl that all the Korean men would stop to look at (quite inconspicuously), not to mention, also the sleazy American men. Hey, what can you do when you're Caucasian and beautiful. I've often been plagued with the same problem. I like to think Jenny and I are soulmates because we both love country music, mexican food and margaritas. The only thing that keeps us from being ABSOLUTE soulmates is her love of hiking and nature. And Jenny knows that I'm just not down with that.
Ahrum: Remember that movie My Sassy Girl? That movie you heard was so good, but then you watched it, and then you wanted to go and throw up on the filmmakers in a subway, just like the title character does to her boyfriend? Well, I think those Korean filmmakers originally meant to cast Ahrum in the title role because she is in fact quite sassy. Winston, NC is lucky to have her. She was also studying for the LSATs this summer, and we all know how much I love the LSATs.
Hae Jin: I honestly have no idea why our paths did not cross earlier at Amherst. We had many of the same friends but the only interaction I had with her was a drunken high five we gave each other the day before graduation. Rest assured, there were many more drunken high fives this summer. There are three things that I will always associate with Hae Jin for the rest of my life: 1) "Don't Cha" by the Pussycat Dolls. 2) Kim-bop. 3) Pat-bing-su (red bean shaved ice dessert).
Cheryl: I knew that Cheryl was badass when someone at one of the first Hoyah dinners said something ridiculous and we both caught each other's eye with a "what the fuck?!" expression. Cheryl always reminds us young-uns that everything's going to be alright in life. She's also a blog whore so I know that there will always be atleast one person to read over this nonsense that I write. She couldn't have said it better herself: we both love ice cream and Augusten Burroughs. And did I mention that she's badass? See you in Austin in a couple weeks, Cheryl!
Definitely 10 out of 10.
So all I've got to salvage any bit of personal dignity is to think back on all those good times in Korea. After the incident in the subway station, I was almost certain that that would be my defining moment in Korea. And in a way, it has been. Whenever anyone asks me about my time in Korea, I always think of that one incident, but ofcourse I just give my well-rehearsed, neutral answer of "oh, it was really great. I was really blessed to have that opportunity, even though it was really challenging. But I met some really good people...blah blah blah." I feel like I'm rehearsing a monologue for a bit part on 7th Heaven.
Cheryl, always one to comfort me in my complaining, told me that ofcourse, that one incident would not be the defining moment from Korea. As much as I'd like to think she's wrong, at moments like this, when all I've got is to look at the good times and not the bad, I see that I have some great moments to add to my mental photo album. So what if they consisted of 45 minute lunches at a nearby snack bar or drinking beer on plastic chairs outside a local convenient store? I've realized that I need to make a concerted effort to make my own defining moments throughout all the ups and downs...and finding them is not really as hard as I make it out to be.
Here's to the people who helped make my defining moments of summer 2006:
Juliana: My fellow TOEFL Speaking/Writing teacher in crime. She travels the world AND she's a snowboard instructor. How 'bout that. Thank you for always going to McDonald's with me and cracking jokes about our TOEFL curriculum. Um..and did I mention that she got 3rd place in a dance competition at one of the biggest clubs in Seoul?
Ms. Jenny O: Cheryl is definitely right. Jenny was the girl that all the Korean men would stop to look at (quite inconspicuously), not to mention, also the sleazy American men. Hey, what can you do when you're Caucasian and beautiful. I've often been plagued with the same problem. I like to think Jenny and I are soulmates because we both love country music, mexican food and margaritas. The only thing that keeps us from being ABSOLUTE soulmates is her love of hiking and nature. And Jenny knows that I'm just not down with that.
Ahrum: Remember that movie My Sassy Girl? That movie you heard was so good, but then you watched it, and then you wanted to go and throw up on the filmmakers in a subway, just like the title character does to her boyfriend? Well, I think those Korean filmmakers originally meant to cast Ahrum in the title role because she is in fact quite sassy. Winston, NC is lucky to have her. She was also studying for the LSATs this summer, and we all know how much I love the LSATs.
Hae Jin: I honestly have no idea why our paths did not cross earlier at Amherst. We had many of the same friends but the only interaction I had with her was a drunken high five we gave each other the day before graduation. Rest assured, there were many more drunken high fives this summer. There are three things that I will always associate with Hae Jin for the rest of my life: 1) "Don't Cha" by the Pussycat Dolls. 2) Kim-bop. 3) Pat-bing-su (red bean shaved ice dessert).
Cheryl: I knew that Cheryl was badass when someone at one of the first Hoyah dinners said something ridiculous and we both caught each other's eye with a "what the fuck?!" expression. Cheryl always reminds us young-uns that everything's going to be alright in life. She's also a blog whore so I know that there will always be atleast one person to read over this nonsense that I write. She couldn't have said it better herself: we both love ice cream and Augusten Burroughs. And did I mention that she's badass? See you in Austin in a couple weeks, Cheryl!
Definitely 10 out of 10.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Jitter Bug
It's that time again. When you're about to leave a city/place/whatever and you have those jitters the night before. You drive through the city one last time and you look around and think to yourself, "Well, this wasn't so bad. I think I'm actually going to miss it." And then you get to thinking of all the things you wish you could have done, all the things you wish you could have done over, and all the things that you actually did. It's like your life flashing before your eyes but in a good teary-eyed, nostalgic way that really puts that final chapter of your adventure to a close.
That's the kind of the feeling I had driving through Olympic Expressway with my aunt to my uncle's house for one last time. Looking at the numerous bridges that had been beautifully lit by colored lights, diverting attention from the muggy waters below to the beautiful cityscape lights above, really made me think about my time here, the relatives I "reconnected" with, and the wonderful friends I made. It's the same feeling I had when I left New York City after one summer and the same thing I felt when I left Amherst--minus the urban skyline.
Leave it to Seoul to really put me from hero to zero once more. I hate to use this blog as an outlet to complain, but Cheryl is no longer here so I have no one to complain to. I arrive at my uncle's to finish packing most of my luggage and I find that my aunt has already packed all of my clothes into one big suitcase. Hmm..now I don't remember ever being able to do that, but I'm extremely grateful. She always does things without my knowing, and more often than not, they're really kind things, such as washing my shoes that I'd intended to throw away and always giving me an extra banana milkshake in the morning. So I was extremely relieved that now I could pack the rest of my things into my other big suitcase that would be checked in at the airport. Little did I know, my aunt and uncle had their own plans of what to put in that suitcase. They had originally told me that there wasn't much stuff at all to send back home with me. The usual Korean fare for relatives going back to the States is just a bunch of random Korean spices and foods that don't have to be declared through customs. Because Lord knows, you can't buy that stuff in the States (you actually can, but it always tastes "better" when it's direct from the Motherland in a suitcase instead of a cargo plane).
But after they had stuffed numerous bags of made-in-Korea food and packages of seaweed, I realized there was absolutely no room for any of my other items, most importantly my shoes and other miscellaneous items. My shoes!! I realized that I would have to take some stuff back to the States but not enough to feed all of North Korea! My goodness. And if you know me, you know that I'm not such a great packer. In fact, I spend the entire night before packing for big excursions and I almost ALWAYS overpack--although I always manage to forget that ONE important item.
So not only do I have to sit there and contemplate how I'm going to get all my crap into a bag, but I've got my uncle making fun of all the shoes and clothes that I've brought, telling me that the next time I come to Korea, I shouldn't pack that many clothes or shoes. Just two or three pairs are enough. Two or three pairs???? I think during the course of a day here in Korea, I've worn three different pairs of shoes. In one day!! And that's not including when I go clubbing! And I sit. Continuing to sweat profusely. Because that's what happens when I get stressed and when I just sit around in general. At one point, I literally just SAT there, looking at my luggage, clueless as of what to do while my uncle continued to talk loudly (not shout) at me, telling me what to put where.
Here's what I've got. 2 big suitcases, both of which I pray to GOD are at the 30 kg mark. And 3 carryo-ons. here's where things get tricky. My uncle just told me to ask an "American" who doesn't have two carry-ons to carry one of mine onto the plane because I speak English well and can somehow cajole some unknowing American into doing that for me. Realizing the potential for this plan to fail, I put my own personal nonessentials into that bag (gifts for two VERY special people included--SORRY!).
Now on top of my usual leaving-somewhere-and-going-somewhere-else jitters, I've got the customs-jitters. Bad enough that they've got the crack-down on terrorism because of that crazy business in London. And I've got the usual flying-makes-me-hysterical jitters because I've seen too many movies and tv shows involving terror and planes. And as much as I hate to admit it, I've got the I-carry-around-too-many-shoes jitters. I mean, you just don't laugh at someone's cowboy boots. They may have been only 20 bucks and they may be too big for me feet, but I love them. I love my boots. I love my shoes. And they love me.
Note: none of my shoes were placed in the nonessentials bag.
That's the kind of the feeling I had driving through Olympic Expressway with my aunt to my uncle's house for one last time. Looking at the numerous bridges that had been beautifully lit by colored lights, diverting attention from the muggy waters below to the beautiful cityscape lights above, really made me think about my time here, the relatives I "reconnected" with, and the wonderful friends I made. It's the same feeling I had when I left New York City after one summer and the same thing I felt when I left Amherst--minus the urban skyline.
Leave it to Seoul to really put me from hero to zero once more. I hate to use this blog as an outlet to complain, but Cheryl is no longer here so I have no one to complain to. I arrive at my uncle's to finish packing most of my luggage and I find that my aunt has already packed all of my clothes into one big suitcase. Hmm..now I don't remember ever being able to do that, but I'm extremely grateful. She always does things without my knowing, and more often than not, they're really kind things, such as washing my shoes that I'd intended to throw away and always giving me an extra banana milkshake in the morning. So I was extremely relieved that now I could pack the rest of my things into my other big suitcase that would be checked in at the airport. Little did I know, my aunt and uncle had their own plans of what to put in that suitcase. They had originally told me that there wasn't much stuff at all to send back home with me. The usual Korean fare for relatives going back to the States is just a bunch of random Korean spices and foods that don't have to be declared through customs. Because Lord knows, you can't buy that stuff in the States (you actually can, but it always tastes "better" when it's direct from the Motherland in a suitcase instead of a cargo plane).
But after they had stuffed numerous bags of made-in-Korea food and packages of seaweed, I realized there was absolutely no room for any of my other items, most importantly my shoes and other miscellaneous items. My shoes!! I realized that I would have to take some stuff back to the States but not enough to feed all of North Korea! My goodness. And if you know me, you know that I'm not such a great packer. In fact, I spend the entire night before packing for big excursions and I almost ALWAYS overpack--although I always manage to forget that ONE important item.
So not only do I have to sit there and contemplate how I'm going to get all my crap into a bag, but I've got my uncle making fun of all the shoes and clothes that I've brought, telling me that the next time I come to Korea, I shouldn't pack that many clothes or shoes. Just two or three pairs are enough. Two or three pairs???? I think during the course of a day here in Korea, I've worn three different pairs of shoes. In one day!! And that's not including when I go clubbing! And I sit. Continuing to sweat profusely. Because that's what happens when I get stressed and when I just sit around in general. At one point, I literally just SAT there, looking at my luggage, clueless as of what to do while my uncle continued to talk loudly (not shout) at me, telling me what to put where.
Here's what I've got. 2 big suitcases, both of which I pray to GOD are at the 30 kg mark. And 3 carryo-ons. here's where things get tricky. My uncle just told me to ask an "American" who doesn't have two carry-ons to carry one of mine onto the plane because I speak English well and can somehow cajole some unknowing American into doing that for me. Realizing the potential for this plan to fail, I put my own personal nonessentials into that bag (gifts for two VERY special people included--SORRY!).
Now on top of my usual leaving-somewhere-and-going-somewhere-else jitters, I've got the customs-jitters. Bad enough that they've got the crack-down on terrorism because of that crazy business in London. And I've got the usual flying-makes-me-hysterical jitters because I've seen too many movies and tv shows involving terror and planes. And as much as I hate to admit it, I've got the I-carry-around-too-many-shoes jitters. I mean, you just don't laugh at someone's cowboy boots. They may have been only 20 bucks and they may be too big for me feet, but I love them. I love my boots. I love my shoes. And they love me.
Note: none of my shoes were placed in the nonessentials bag.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Rest and not so much relaxation
I realize that a blog post is long overdue. In fact, I've got an unfinished waiting in queue on this blogger as we speak. But I've just returned from "vacation" in Jeju, so I figure I might as well write what's fresh on my mind.
So a trip to Jeju, South Korea. I guess that's how I'd write it. I'm still uncertain as to the relationship Jeju has with the rest of Korea. A state? A territory like Puerto Rico? I'm not sure, but somehow, having to ride a plane across a body of water makes it seem more like a Puerto Rico than a Palm Springs. I went thinking that this would be a well-deserved vacation after a hard summer's work at Hoyah Academy. And being in a different country, ofcourse, lends itself to its share of ups and downs. But hey, I just got back from 4 days without internet access. That in and of itself is a major up. Somebody give me a high five.
It's really hot here
my my...it feels like a cloud is suffocating my face. That's kind of how I felt the entire time I was there. And sometimes, the clouds actually were in my face. One minute it would be sunny; the next there would be a huge downpour. Mother nature, how you love to play these foolish games.
Lost
We got to go to an actual, life-size maze. Yes! Those mazes that you only see on tv and in books with other hallucinogenic things, such as playing card men and dodo birds. As lame as I felt asking my relatives to take me there, I knew I'd never be able to find one in the US (or atleast in Texas). As a I began to wander through the maze with my cousins, I started to realize why this sort of "maze park" would never fly in the US. This shrubbery of..."fun" is literally a lawsuit waiting to happen. What kind of person would PAY to get lost? Evidently, a lot of fellow Jeju-do travellers. I tried to impress my cousin by looking at a map and boldly proclaiming that I did know the way out. Not only did I NOT know the way out, but I slipped down an entire flight of stairs in my muddy flip flops. There's just no redeeming yourself after falling down a flight of stairs.
It's noon...I think
There's some old Korean tradition, that I may have just made up, where you absolutely must accept any alcohol given to you by an elder. Yeah, I think I might have made that up, but I think it stems from some truth. It just so happens that by this time during my stay in Korea, I've grown to detest soju. Soju = death. It used to be the perfect companion to good times back in the day (i.e., June) but now all I can think of whenever I drink it is rubbing alcohol. It smells bad, it tastes bad, and one shot of it doesn't even get you drunk. But ofcourse, I HAVE to accept it when my oldest uncle offers me some...at lunch time. Not once, not twice, but THRICE during my stay in Jeju, I felt the effects of Korean moonshine right around noon time. Sometimes, drinking just is not as fun when you know that you won't be dancing it off within an hour.
No speak Korean
So that's kind of a lie. I can most certainly get by with my Korean. But you can't "go on vacation" to a place where the language is not your first language. Sure it's fun to experience a new culture and eat new food (note: not all the food was quite so fun--sea cucumber, octopus, squid...not so fun), but when it's a constant struggle to communicate?? When you can't even crack a joke because Korean just doesn't have the capabilities to sustain subtle American sarcasm?? When you can't be yourself because all your sentences trail off because of lack of language skills?? That's certainly not a vacation. However, I've noticed that a little bit of alcohol--just like a spoonful of sugar--makes the medicine go down and the korean come out MUCH easier. Due to the aforementioned lunchtime soju, I was able to have some good conversations with my relatives. No worries...there was no dancing involved.
Still waiting for that high five
Although I had quite a bit of trouble carrying on conversation like a normal Korean, there were times when I was mistaken for *gasp* an ACTUAL Korean! Ever since I've stepped foot here in Korea, I haven't really felt like an ACTUAL Korean. Some of my relatives judge the basis of my Korean-ness on my ability to eat kimchi, while others expect me to eat crazy things because I am by some default, KOREAN. Walking around Seoul, I've never felt like one of these people. I stand as an outsider, a man from across the ocean, and thus, I'm free to judge and criticize and even laugh at these so-called Koreans. But there is this sense of satisfaction when strangers do think you're one of them and even through a slightly botched accent, they seem to accept you. People would ask me questions at the hotel and on the street about how much things cost or where something was, and after hearing my response would either ask me more questions or politely thank me. They think I'm Korean!! I just gave myself another high five right here in front of this computer.
A couple more days and I'm back in the States Back to being "Korean American" and back to the real world. First stop...Taco Bell.
So a trip to Jeju, South Korea. I guess that's how I'd write it. I'm still uncertain as to the relationship Jeju has with the rest of Korea. A state? A territory like Puerto Rico? I'm not sure, but somehow, having to ride a plane across a body of water makes it seem more like a Puerto Rico than a Palm Springs. I went thinking that this would be a well-deserved vacation after a hard summer's work at Hoyah Academy. And being in a different country, ofcourse, lends itself to its share of ups and downs. But hey, I just got back from 4 days without internet access. That in and of itself is a major up. Somebody give me a high five.
It's really hot here
my my...it feels like a cloud is suffocating my face. That's kind of how I felt the entire time I was there. And sometimes, the clouds actually were in my face. One minute it would be sunny; the next there would be a huge downpour. Mother nature, how you love to play these foolish games.
Lost
We got to go to an actual, life-size maze. Yes! Those mazes that you only see on tv and in books with other hallucinogenic things, such as playing card men and dodo birds. As lame as I felt asking my relatives to take me there, I knew I'd never be able to find one in the US (or atleast in Texas). As a I began to wander through the maze with my cousins, I started to realize why this sort of "maze park" would never fly in the US. This shrubbery of..."fun" is literally a lawsuit waiting to happen. What kind of person would PAY to get lost? Evidently, a lot of fellow Jeju-do travellers. I tried to impress my cousin by looking at a map and boldly proclaiming that I did know the way out. Not only did I NOT know the way out, but I slipped down an entire flight of stairs in my muddy flip flops. There's just no redeeming yourself after falling down a flight of stairs.
It's noon...I think
There's some old Korean tradition, that I may have just made up, where you absolutely must accept any alcohol given to you by an elder. Yeah, I think I might have made that up, but I think it stems from some truth. It just so happens that by this time during my stay in Korea, I've grown to detest soju. Soju = death. It used to be the perfect companion to good times back in the day (i.e., June) but now all I can think of whenever I drink it is rubbing alcohol. It smells bad, it tastes bad, and one shot of it doesn't even get you drunk. But ofcourse, I HAVE to accept it when my oldest uncle offers me some...at lunch time. Not once, not twice, but THRICE during my stay in Jeju, I felt the effects of Korean moonshine right around noon time. Sometimes, drinking just is not as fun when you know that you won't be dancing it off within an hour.
No speak Korean
So that's kind of a lie. I can most certainly get by with my Korean. But you can't "go on vacation" to a place where the language is not your first language. Sure it's fun to experience a new culture and eat new food (note: not all the food was quite so fun--sea cucumber, octopus, squid...not so fun), but when it's a constant struggle to communicate?? When you can't even crack a joke because Korean just doesn't have the capabilities to sustain subtle American sarcasm?? When you can't be yourself because all your sentences trail off because of lack of language skills?? That's certainly not a vacation. However, I've noticed that a little bit of alcohol--just like a spoonful of sugar--makes the medicine go down and the korean come out MUCH easier. Due to the aforementioned lunchtime soju, I was able to have some good conversations with my relatives. No worries...there was no dancing involved.
Still waiting for that high five
Although I had quite a bit of trouble carrying on conversation like a normal Korean, there were times when I was mistaken for *gasp* an ACTUAL Korean! Ever since I've stepped foot here in Korea, I haven't really felt like an ACTUAL Korean. Some of my relatives judge the basis of my Korean-ness on my ability to eat kimchi, while others expect me to eat crazy things because I am by some default, KOREAN. Walking around Seoul, I've never felt like one of these people. I stand as an outsider, a man from across the ocean, and thus, I'm free to judge and criticize and even laugh at these so-called Koreans. But there is this sense of satisfaction when strangers do think you're one of them and even through a slightly botched accent, they seem to accept you. People would ask me questions at the hotel and on the street about how much things cost or where something was, and after hearing my response would either ask me more questions or politely thank me. They think I'm Korean!! I just gave myself another high five right here in front of this computer.
A couple more days and I'm back in the States Back to being "Korean American" and back to the real world. First stop...Taco Bell.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
From heat to beat
In a high-paced city like Seoul, my mood can go from one extreme to another in a matter of minutes. It's funny how life can be like that sometimes; one second you're on cloud nine and in another you're eating dirt. The one thing that really does it for me is heat. Standing in a subway station with absolutely no fans or a/c makes me want to poke an eye out or even jump in front of an oncoming subway train. There's just something so awful about standing in place letting the sweat trickle down your neck and back as it sticks to your clothes.
Despite my heat spell in the Hongdae subway station yesterday, I contemplated what a great day I had actually had. Sweat stains and all, I had learned to water ski in the morning/afternoon, gone shopping in Hongdae, and spent time with some of my favorite Hoyah teachers. The picture perfect Korean Independence Day.
As you could have guessed, here's where my faced gets shoved into the dirt. HARD.
As I preparedto turn the last corner up towards the last escalator to the subway station exit, a man came up to face and looked me hard in the eyes. This man was either under the influence of some chemical substance or checking me out not so inconspicuously. As we got closer to each other, he grabs my bag and asks me, "You know who I am? Don't you know what you've done? Come with me!" Being the silly materialistic that I am, the first thought that races through my mind is "Holy shit, my ipod, wallet and recently purchased star-patterned neck tie are all in this bag!" But I held to my bag and simply told him I didn't know who he was nor did I know what I "had done." The man simply sneered at me and insisted that I come out of the subway station with him. If Oprah has taught me anything, it's that you never let the aggressor take you to that second location. I have seen several episodes where people have presented their own testimonials on this survival fact. You do NOT let him/her take you to the second location!
I quickly turned around as he continued to hold onto my bag and dragged him towards the top of the escalator I had just come up from. I figured, if I block this escalator, people who had to use this escalator would surely put an end to this nonsense. Instead, the man continued to yell some uncomprehensible words (due to my limited Korean and state of panic) and held on to my bag as he threw his fist back in preparation to fight. As he did this, the people around seemed to pay no attention to my terrified eyes and merely slipped beside onto the escalator, without even a raised eyebrow. Hello??? I'm about to get punched in the face by a stranger!! And then the man got out his cell phone and told whoever was outside the station to come down because he "had found the person."
At this moment, my own worst fears, fueled by my grandmother's very first piece of advice about Korean "gangsters," began to materialize in my overwrought imagination. I could picture it now. His entire gang would come down the stairs and beat me to a pulp while the main aggressor took my bag away, ipod and all. I did have limited knowledge of taekwondo but that would have only come in handy if this man's face was a 2-inch thick wooden block. Perhaps I could try to get him to punch, dodge his punch, and then pull out a judo chop on the back of his neck. Or I could just stand at the top of the escalator and continue to convince him that I had never seen him or done anything. He continued to ask me, "If you didn't do anything, then why are you trying to run away? Come out of the station!" Hey, you big fuck. Asking me that kind of rhetorical question is the universal question to get some idiot to actually follow you. Obviously my imagination has been tainted by the harsh cynicism and crime-ridden plot lines of American tv. I knew right then and there that I would be the topic of some night-time Korean news program: "Korean American in pink polo found beaten to a pulp inside Sangdo station. " Let those bitches at CSI figure THAT one out.
I finally heard the pounding footsteps of someone coming from far away to catch this "person" who had done "something," and instead of being a troupe of Korean bandits, it was a young woman in heels shouting at her boyfriend, "He's not the one!!! It's not him!!!!" The man continued to hold my bag and shout at me until the girlfriend came up to him and pleaded with him that I "wasn't him." The woman apologized profusely for the mistake and the man simply let go of my bag and told me to go away.
Hold the FUCK up. JUST...HOLD...UP! Not even an apology??? Ofcourse I was far too shocked to ask for one, so I simply walked away, ashamed of this man, ashamed of the people who did nothing to help me, and ashamed of myself. If there's anything I got out of this, it's this:
1) Korean men suck.
2) I am an utter wuss. Not only was I unable to stand up for myself, but I completely lost control of my senses in the face of this ridiculous man.
3) Maybe I'm not quite so ready to be in the real world by myself. I, who for so long have longed to just be on my own and brave the harsh realities of life, can't do it. Not just yet. I need to go home. And have the comfort of my family. And know that there are always friends to back me up just in case a random man threatens to kill me. I'm only 21--almost 22. Just give me a break. I'll be ready for life...later.
Despite my heat spell in the Hongdae subway station yesterday, I contemplated what a great day I had actually had. Sweat stains and all, I had learned to water ski in the morning/afternoon, gone shopping in Hongdae, and spent time with some of my favorite Hoyah teachers. The picture perfect Korean Independence Day.
As you could have guessed, here's where my faced gets shoved into the dirt. HARD.
As I preparedto turn the last corner up towards the last escalator to the subway station exit, a man came up to face and looked me hard in the eyes. This man was either under the influence of some chemical substance or checking me out not so inconspicuously. As we got closer to each other, he grabs my bag and asks me, "You know who I am? Don't you know what you've done? Come with me!" Being the silly materialistic that I am, the first thought that races through my mind is "Holy shit, my ipod, wallet and recently purchased star-patterned neck tie are all in this bag!" But I held to my bag and simply told him I didn't know who he was nor did I know what I "had done." The man simply sneered at me and insisted that I come out of the subway station with him. If Oprah has taught me anything, it's that you never let the aggressor take you to that second location. I have seen several episodes where people have presented their own testimonials on this survival fact. You do NOT let him/her take you to the second location!
I quickly turned around as he continued to hold onto my bag and dragged him towards the top of the escalator I had just come up from. I figured, if I block this escalator, people who had to use this escalator would surely put an end to this nonsense. Instead, the man continued to yell some uncomprehensible words (due to my limited Korean and state of panic) and held on to my bag as he threw his fist back in preparation to fight. As he did this, the people around seemed to pay no attention to my terrified eyes and merely slipped beside onto the escalator, without even a raised eyebrow. Hello??? I'm about to get punched in the face by a stranger!! And then the man got out his cell phone and told whoever was outside the station to come down because he "had found the person."
At this moment, my own worst fears, fueled by my grandmother's very first piece of advice about Korean "gangsters," began to materialize in my overwrought imagination. I could picture it now. His entire gang would come down the stairs and beat me to a pulp while the main aggressor took my bag away, ipod and all. I did have limited knowledge of taekwondo but that would have only come in handy if this man's face was a 2-inch thick wooden block. Perhaps I could try to get him to punch, dodge his punch, and then pull out a judo chop on the back of his neck. Or I could just stand at the top of the escalator and continue to convince him that I had never seen him or done anything. He continued to ask me, "If you didn't do anything, then why are you trying to run away? Come out of the station!" Hey, you big fuck. Asking me that kind of rhetorical question is the universal question to get some idiot to actually follow you. Obviously my imagination has been tainted by the harsh cynicism and crime-ridden plot lines of American tv. I knew right then and there that I would be the topic of some night-time Korean news program: "Korean American in pink polo found beaten to a pulp inside Sangdo station. " Let those bitches at CSI figure THAT one out.
I finally heard the pounding footsteps of someone coming from far away to catch this "person" who had done "something," and instead of being a troupe of Korean bandits, it was a young woman in heels shouting at her boyfriend, "He's not the one!!! It's not him!!!!" The man continued to hold my bag and shout at me until the girlfriend came up to him and pleaded with him that I "wasn't him." The woman apologized profusely for the mistake and the man simply let go of my bag and told me to go away.
Hold the FUCK up. JUST...HOLD...UP! Not even an apology??? Ofcourse I was far too shocked to ask for one, so I simply walked away, ashamed of this man, ashamed of the people who did nothing to help me, and ashamed of myself. If there's anything I got out of this, it's this:
1) Korean men suck.
2) I am an utter wuss. Not only was I unable to stand up for myself, but I completely lost control of my senses in the face of this ridiculous man.
3) Maybe I'm not quite so ready to be in the real world by myself. I, who for so long have longed to just be on my own and brave the harsh realities of life, can't do it. Not just yet. I need to go home. And have the comfort of my family. And know that there are always friends to back me up just in case a random man threatens to kill me. I'm only 21--almost 22. Just give me a break. I'll be ready for life...later.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Almost worth it
Emails from students of mine who recently ended their run in my TOEFL course:
"Thanks for teaching me SKILLS. I will see you somewhere around Hoyah."
"Thank you for taught me. Lets keep touching each other with e-mail." (nevermind the serious grammar mistake there...)
"Paul. I will miss you. Thank you for teaching me."
At this point, I don't even care if these boys' parents forced them to send me a thank-you email.
After a long hard day, these little messages really do make the blood, sweat and tears--ok, so just A LOT of sweat-- worth it.
"Thanks for teaching me SKILLS. I will see you somewhere around Hoyah."
"Thank you for taught me. Lets keep touching each other with e-mail." (nevermind the serious grammar mistake there...)
"Paul. I will miss you. Thank you for teaching me."
At this point, I don't even care if these boys' parents forced them to send me a thank-you email.
After a long hard day, these little messages really do make the blood, sweat and tears--ok, so just A LOT of sweat-- worth it.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Korean glaze
Upon arriving Seoul, I have indulged myself with a total of three Krispy Kreme Original Glazed doughnuts, two of which have been given to me free of charge. Apparently, in an effort to copy all things American, the Krispy Kremes here have a red circular light that when turned on indicates that any passerby may come in and enjoy one free doughnut straight off the oil and confectionary conveyer belt. This red light also appears in Krispy Kreme doughnut shops all across the United States?
With each bite of these delectable delights from heaven, I've been reminded of home. Reminded of the time our marching band sold them by the dozen for fund-raising. Reminded of the time I bought a box for myself and made myself sick. Reminded of the time my mom used to take me to the store after my SAT-prep class for a post-study doughnut. Despite the once sick-spell, these doughnuts have come to symbolize all that is good in life and the ultimate symbol of self-denial; surely something this good can't be THAT bad for you.
And so one orgasmic bite after another, I long for the days that I drove around Coppell, Texas in my royal blue Toyota Cressida and partook in my daily afternoon nap with Oprah. Nevermind that the Krispy Kreme I most recently frequented was in the basement floor of an upscale department store. None of these Prada/Chanel/Burberry-clad Koreans can distract me from my nostalgic journey across the Pacific. Proust had his madeleines. I've got the ORIGINAL GLAZED!
It wasn't until I was standing in the subway looking up at an ad for Krispy Kreme that I realized something was really off about these magical doughnuts in Korea. This ad featured four young Korean twenty-something (maybe thirty-something) females sitting around a box of Krispy Kremes a la Sex and the City. Nothing would have made me happier to see an ad for Krispy Kremes with four attractive young ladies eating away their man troubles. Or perhaps a late-night munchies run? Carrie & Co. would have been so proud.
But instead, not one woman had the doughnut anywhere near her mouth. Not...one... One of them with just a tad more plump arms (not that there is ANYTHING wrong with that--but perhaps a calculated casting decision done by the ad agency?) was holding the doughnut in one hand and appeared to bring it up to her mouth, while the other women just sat around laughing. Laughing as if the thought of eating one doughnut was absolutely preposterous. No wonder the one woman with the doughnut in hand looked hesitant and not quite as exuberant as the other three. They were probably making fun of her!
Why won't these women eat the doughnuts? It's not a beer ad. They are completely able to bring the doughnuts to their mouths and really feel the fat in their bodies congeal into extra pounds. But no. This ad, the product of psychological conditioning at its best, was made simply to associate good times with doughnut. Doughnut + people ( - consumption) = good times. And true to form, I've once again become disappointed with all things Korean.
These doughnuts, the source of goodness in my life, have become vehicles for commercial globalization, thereby sacrificing their luscious flavor and post-consumptive consequences. No one should be wearing Prada with a Krispy Kreme. Just a Cressida. And perhaps a shoulder to cry on.
With each bite of these delectable delights from heaven, I've been reminded of home. Reminded of the time our marching band sold them by the dozen for fund-raising. Reminded of the time I bought a box for myself and made myself sick. Reminded of the time my mom used to take me to the store after my SAT-prep class for a post-study doughnut. Despite the once sick-spell, these doughnuts have come to symbolize all that is good in life and the ultimate symbol of self-denial; surely something this good can't be THAT bad for you.
And so one orgasmic bite after another, I long for the days that I drove around Coppell, Texas in my royal blue Toyota Cressida and partook in my daily afternoon nap with Oprah. Nevermind that the Krispy Kreme I most recently frequented was in the basement floor of an upscale department store. None of these Prada/Chanel/Burberry-clad Koreans can distract me from my nostalgic journey across the Pacific. Proust had his madeleines. I've got the ORIGINAL GLAZED!
It wasn't until I was standing in the subway looking up at an ad for Krispy Kreme that I realized something was really off about these magical doughnuts in Korea. This ad featured four young Korean twenty-something (maybe thirty-something) females sitting around a box of Krispy Kremes a la Sex and the City. Nothing would have made me happier to see an ad for Krispy Kremes with four attractive young ladies eating away their man troubles. Or perhaps a late-night munchies run? Carrie & Co. would have been so proud.
But instead, not one woman had the doughnut anywhere near her mouth. Not...one... One of them with just a tad more plump arms (not that there is ANYTHING wrong with that--but perhaps a calculated casting decision done by the ad agency?) was holding the doughnut in one hand and appeared to bring it up to her mouth, while the other women just sat around laughing. Laughing as if the thought of eating one doughnut was absolutely preposterous. No wonder the one woman with the doughnut in hand looked hesitant and not quite as exuberant as the other three. They were probably making fun of her!
Why won't these women eat the doughnuts? It's not a beer ad. They are completely able to bring the doughnuts to their mouths and really feel the fat in their bodies congeal into extra pounds. But no. This ad, the product of psychological conditioning at its best, was made simply to associate good times with doughnut. Doughnut + people ( - consumption) = good times. And true to form, I've once again become disappointed with all things Korean.
These doughnuts, the source of goodness in my life, have become vehicles for commercial globalization, thereby sacrificing their luscious flavor and post-consumptive consequences. No one should be wearing Prada with a Krispy Kreme. Just a Cressida. And perhaps a shoulder to cry on.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
You're so vain
Admit it. Every time you walk past a reflective surface, you take a quick glance at yourself. Maybe not even a quick glance. Sometimes you may even stop to fix a stray hair, fix your tie, or even just stop and admire your goddamn beautiful self.
I do it.
Not excessively. Not that it's anything to be ashamed of; it's a completely natural human inclination. Funny that I just read a lecture to my students from the TOEFL book about animal self-awareness. Apparently, chimpanzees increase self-grooming and touching when shown a reflection of themselves. These TOEFL books are just chock FULL of knowledge; those kids just don't appreciate the academic goldmine that lies in front of them.
The other day, I may have crossed the line. It's one thing to fix a stray hair or a lopsided faux-hawk. But as I stood in front of the mirror in the locker room of California WOW, I made a clear leap-frog over self-awareness into the realms of utter vanity. As I changed into my clothes after a shower, I stood in front of the mirror and almost by sheer accident, by some uncontrollable twitch of the body, my left hip jutted to the side and...I struck a pose. A quick pose. But a pose nonetheless. I could have done Tyra proud.
Just to make sure that this hadn't been one of those bodily twitches that occurs because of fatigue, I slowly repeated the motion and confirmed that I had, indeed, struck a pose. Madonna told us to strike a pose because "there's nothing to it," but there is something to it. As ashamed as I am of having given the mirror at my gym a split-second show, I like to think that I'm just a victim of this image-obsessed society. You may think this is all just mumbo jumbo, academic broo-haha. Quite the contrary, I am surrounded on a daily basis by the pressure to look "good." My students, for example, never fail to point out something about the way I look.
"Why are you always trying to copy David Beckham?"
What are you talking about?? Beckham totally stole the faux-hawk from me!
"Why do you cuff your pants up like that so much?"
So I can give you idiots a nice view of my hairy ankles.
"Whoa, I can't believe you're wearing white shoes!"
Why don't you shut up and work on your essay before this white shoe ends up in your face.
That's my defense, and I'm sticking to it. I'm a victim of a society where clothes truly make the man/woman. And this ridiculous pose that I can't get out of my mind--which I hope was really just a private encounter between myself and the mirror--must be some sort of sign that the critical Korean eye has crept into my subconscious. Crept in and started breeding a nasty strain of severe self-consciousness and the bodily/sartorial obsession.
I may return to the United States and comment on how your legs look fat in that skirt or how you might look better with a different haircut.
Just remember, it's not my fault.
I do it.
Not excessively. Not that it's anything to be ashamed of; it's a completely natural human inclination. Funny that I just read a lecture to my students from the TOEFL book about animal self-awareness. Apparently, chimpanzees increase self-grooming and touching when shown a reflection of themselves. These TOEFL books are just chock FULL of knowledge; those kids just don't appreciate the academic goldmine that lies in front of them.
The other day, I may have crossed the line. It's one thing to fix a stray hair or a lopsided faux-hawk. But as I stood in front of the mirror in the locker room of California WOW, I made a clear leap-frog over self-awareness into the realms of utter vanity. As I changed into my clothes after a shower, I stood in front of the mirror and almost by sheer accident, by some uncontrollable twitch of the body, my left hip jutted to the side and...I struck a pose. A quick pose. But a pose nonetheless. I could have done Tyra proud.
Just to make sure that this hadn't been one of those bodily twitches that occurs because of fatigue, I slowly repeated the motion and confirmed that I had, indeed, struck a pose. Madonna told us to strike a pose because "there's nothing to it," but there is something to it. As ashamed as I am of having given the mirror at my gym a split-second show, I like to think that I'm just a victim of this image-obsessed society. You may think this is all just mumbo jumbo, academic broo-haha. Quite the contrary, I am surrounded on a daily basis by the pressure to look "good." My students, for example, never fail to point out something about the way I look.
"Why are you always trying to copy David Beckham?"
What are you talking about?? Beckham totally stole the faux-hawk from me!
"Why do you cuff your pants up like that so much?"
So I can give you idiots a nice view of my hairy ankles.
"Whoa, I can't believe you're wearing white shoes!"
Why don't you shut up and work on your essay before this white shoe ends up in your face.
That's my defense, and I'm sticking to it. I'm a victim of a society where clothes truly make the man/woman. And this ridiculous pose that I can't get out of my mind--which I hope was really just a private encounter between myself and the mirror--must be some sort of sign that the critical Korean eye has crept into my subconscious. Crept in and started breeding a nasty strain of severe self-consciousness and the bodily/sartorial obsession.
I may return to the United States and comment on how your legs look fat in that skirt or how you might look better with a different haircut.
Just remember, it's not my fault.
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