Coffee with Chin gyu.

I make the same walk to and from work everyday. I'm stoic and mostly focused on the up hill in the mornings, but in the afternoon I'm really a very jovial walker. I try to toss out as many waves and "hello's" as I can. Listen, I'm not above what a novelty I must be to some of the Korean folks in my neighborhood. The comparison to be made, in my opinion, is if a 7-foot man with a 1-foot afro gave me a jolly wave hello whilst I was a child growing up in the burbs. Clearly I am not taller than 6 feet, and my hair is decidedly normal, but hopefully you get the point.

So anyway, there's a few people I try to greet everyday. One is the lady who runs the mart on the corner. Another is the diminutive, flamboyant man who seems to be a seamstress of sorts. The other is a slight man who runs the photo shop on another corner. Him and I have actually met before. He oversaw the photo sessions for my registration card and international drivers license. I'd like to think we hit it off after those encounters, so about three weeks ago I started giving him a smile/wave.

Today was no different... until he summoned me to join him in his shop. He immediately poured me a cup of weak coffee, pulled out a chair, and introduced himself as Chin gyu. He shook my hand firmly, which many Korean men never do. I felt good. At first I thought he might need help with something, but I quickly realized he was just being courteous, and perhaps a little curious as well. There wasn't much to talk about. His English was meager at best. But I think we both jived off each other's excitement to be in such a irregular position. In the end, we discussed the work he did on yearbooks for many of Ulsan's schools. I'm not kidding when I say this man is a layout master. I was quite saddened when he told me that my school did not employ him for theirs. It's your loss Mipo Elementary.

I smiled ear to ear for the rest of my walk home. I must imagine it took balls for Chin gyu to invite me in, as it meant that he had to put his limited english on display. I wish he knew that it wouldn't have mattered to me if we just sat their in silence. Either way, I hope I gave his day as big a jolt as he gave mine.

My Inauguration Experience

Yesterday's swearing in of President Obama provided many people, all around the world, with once-in-a-lifetime moments. While I was not in my native Washington D.C., I was privy to the inauguration from perhaps the oddest of places: the back of a taxi.

Let me explain. I had no intention of watching it. 12pm D.C. time - when the whole shebang was to go down - is 2 am Korea time, and not a time I wished to see what with my 7:30 am wake up call. So I decided on checking out "Defiance" at one of Ulsan's lovely cinemas. The movie ended around 10:30, and disappointed with its general lackluster, my friend and I decided to grab a beer. Though we both only ended up taking down two drinks, we found ourselves stumbling out of this watering hole at the ripe our of 1:45. She, being a Korean, had her car. Me, living in the absolute opposite direction, and being a general western pauper, had to grab a taxi back to my little beach hamlet.

I immediately noticed that the driver - like so many Korean cabbies - was in the middle of a program on his in-car tv set. Nothing unusual. But wait! Then he turns to me and says, "Oh oh, yes, Obama Obama." Only then do I notice he's watching a live feed of the inaugural. So there I am, in Korea, in the back a cab, barreling into the darkness and watching the codification of my new government. Unfortunately I didn't get to see the man himself take the oath from the cab. I made it home in time to see that on a real TV. But just witnessing the pomp of the whole event, not to mention Biden's oath, where I was - it felt spectacularly bizarre and absolutely fitting.

Bahng Seon Seng Nim

I have a raging new nickname: (roughly translated) Bahng Seon Seng Nim. This means Bread - as in "loaf" - teacher. Bahng = bread/seon seng nim = teacher. My students told me two weeks ago that this was my popular title in the hallways, so I told them to run with it. I've actually found it contagious. I tell my Korean friends to use it, and I think you should too. That it was a huge hit at my winter camp (posts coming asap) really sealed the deal for me. I guess it's just nice to find a pair of pants that fit.

Mobis-uh!

I am now officially a fan of Ulsan sports teams. I knew long ago that my soccer team was fantastic, and that was enough for me. That was until I went to a basketball game. Oh man. Koreans put a twist on anything they adopt from the west, with deeply varying results. Sometimes it makes sense, and sometimes it's shambles. Korean basketball is, simply put, one of the purest examples of cultural fusion I've had the pleasure of taking in.

Let's start with the roster. There are some big Koreans on the Ulsan Mobis Phoebus (don't ask me what Phoebus means). This makes sense and allows the experience to be at once visually familiar to the uninitiated occidental. Then you encounter Gerard Dunston and Odartey Blankson. God knows their stories, but somehow these two black westerners ended up on a mediocre professional Korean basketball team. And damn do the Ulsan fans go berzerk over them. I found out later that most of the Korean teams imported "players of color," and sure enough the opposing team fit the bill. Subsequently I noticed two unfortunate things. One, any black player on floor was invariably covered by another black player, which created a disturbing visual dichotomy. Two, the black players were clearly the best players on their respective teams. I'm sure that's great for the teams themselves. Still, I found it disheartening that the Koreans couldn't count on their own countrymen as the focal point of the physical heroics. I also noticed this at the soccer games, when the Brazilian players always came away with the biggest cheers... and the most scored goals. Either way, I guess if the fans are happy then I'm happy as well.


Then we have the food. I find that sports in the US are inextricably linked with a certain brand of intense, sweaty food. Koreans, not being a people willing to forget about health even during a spectacle, snacked on decidedly unorthodox fare, at least for an American. While there were chips, popcorn, beer, and soda, some other snacks really threw me. Most notable among them was the squid fries. That's right. In fact, I would argue that 2/3 of that stadium consumed squid fries over the course of the game. Of course I tried them, and I can safely say that I get it. They look like fries, they're filling, and with enough salt and a vivid imagination, they almost taste like fries.



Lastly, we have the accents. One of the strangest things about Korea is that English is everywhere. Whether a Korean speaks it or not, he must live everyday surrounded by sayings, billboards, road signs, etc in english. Obviously these are all coupled with a Korean alternative. The result is hearing English words that you know, but not even know they're being used. Ramen noodles (or lahm-yen to Koreans) get at the point. The weirdest example of this during the game arose anytime Blankson scored a basket. The crowd cheered his last name in unison, but it came out roughly as "Buh-lack-us-uh," or to my ears as "blacks." Well, it was close enough to cause some smirks amongst my friends and I. Then you have the team name: Mobis. Anytime there was a lull in play, the stadium's hype man (yes that's right) began a chant of "Mo-bees-suh/mo-bees-suh/mo-bees-suh" with a corresponding clap,clap,clap. It's pure Korean to make a two syllable word into three with a simple "uh." Case in point, my name: Bu-rah-duh. 1 syllable to three. Though, I did hear a defense chant several times that was the same old "defense!!!" that we all know and love. Just like in the rest of life here: some western things stay the same (McDonald's) and some things just get Koreanized.

Dokdo

(a little reminder I recorded whilst walking a dog)
Nothing gets Koreans riled like the "Dokdo" issue. Dokdo, otherwise known as the Liancourt Rocks, are two TINY islands smack dab in between Korea and Japan. These two nations have a past rich with disdain and resentment, and it seems as if the Dokdo discussion is simply an extension of that ill will.

The trouble lies in the fact that both nations have fairly legitimate claim to the islands. Dokdo's sovereignty has been in the hands of both nations countless times over the past century. Regardless, the islands have been safely Korean since WWII. The war found Japan destroyed and without any of its previous diplomatic sway necessary to lay claim. Then, even in the upheaval of the Korean war, Japan could never find the right support in the international community to warrant any physical plays towards Dokdo.

Today only a Korean octopus fisherman and his wife live there. But the battle still rages. In summer '08, Japan made some remark in its public middle school curriculum about their rightful ownership over Dokdo. Needless to say the Koreans went apeshit. Korea recalled its ambassador to Japan, strengthened naval support in the East sea, and reinvested in a propaganda campaign the likes of which I've not seen since fall 2001 in the states. The Koreans have a Dokdo song. There are stickers everywhere, including most city buses in Ulsan. I've met Koreans young and old (some of my 5th graders made comments today about the islands) who spoke passionately on the issue.

It's absolutely wild to be a part of a veritable war that only lives in people's hearts and minds. I can't wait to ask some Japanese how the feel about it.

New kimchi or old kimchi?

There are two kinds of Koreans: those who prefer new kimchi, and those who prefer old kimchi. There's a marked difference between the two [kimchis, not Koreans]. Old kimchi is more sour and meandering in taste, while new kimchi is sharp, spicy, and quite definite. I recently discovered that I am a new kimchi man.

I think that kimchi is far and away the most fascinating cultural trait in this country. As I've said before, everyone eats it everyday. Moreover, it doesn't seem to be something that most people buy in stores. You certainly can, but that's kind of like buying a store-made Turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. Kimchi season, as I would call it, is an incredibly mysterious and beautiful time in Korea.

Every winter, the vast majority of Koreans prepare themselves for "the great Kimchi make." They buy/harvest a mountain of cabbage, hot sauce, and god knows else each family puts into it's own private kimchi batch. Then many family members sequester themselves in and around the kitchen for an entire day. A year's worth of kimchi comes out of this day. Like I said, almost every Korean family does this every year.

Each family does it differently too. It means something very important when, at a casual lunch, somebody busts out "their" kimchi to share. Basically they're sharing with you something that is, more or less, a huge statement about the Korean-ness of their family. Heavy huh?

Harvest season also means a glut of new kimchi. To old kimchi people it's a frustrating time of year, but not to freshies. No way, I just can't get enough of this crisp goodness everyday, and I can get it everyday too. Last week, my co-teacher presented me with a monster tupperwear full of her family's personal batch. Mmm. I smiled hearty as I chopped up the leaves to a little Otis Redding. I'm glad that I suffered unknowingly through the old kimchi season, and now I can look forward to months of filling my chop sticks with abandon.

Koreans work harder than you pt. 3

Everyday I walk by a Korean pizza joint called Hansang Pizza. Today I found out that it actually belongs to the parents of one of my favorite students. Not only that, but this lovely young lady explained that her family also lives above the restaurant in the same building. How mom and pop, I thought. What would that be like? I asked her as much as I could within the bounds of her English. Later, I was shocked to find out that she, at 14, began actively working in the store at 7! She told me that she made her first pie at 7, and collected her first transaction at the tender age of 12. Who learns to work a cash register at 12? I'm ashamed to say I've not yet had Hansang pizza. That will have to change very soon. Perhaps tonight.

Bangeojin on a Saturday.

I've been dog sitting for the past week, and the two-a-day walks have given me some good time to take photos. These are some shots from my section of the world on this pristine Saturday.

The changing rooms on Ilsan beach.

This is actually a restaurant next to the stairs leading to Daewangam park. At night they set lights over all the tables and it becomes picturesque. Apparently the raw fish here is otherworldly.

Bangeojin under blue skies.

Delivery culture.

Koreans have mastered the art of food delivery. You can order ANYTHING to deliver in this wild country. Of course I don't because I haven't the foggiest about what to say, but I think that's a good thing at the end of the day. God knows I would be morbidly obese if I unlocked the treasure trove of Korean delivery.

Three things distinguish Korea's food transpo system from that in the USandA. First, every delivery man, without fail, drives a scooter or motorcycle. No question. Second, most scooters have these ingenious hand mitts attached to the handle bars come winter. Trust me, you've never seen anything more practical in your life (above). Last, and most fascinating, delivered Korean food comes with real plates, bowls, and utensils, which the deliverymen will return to pick up at an undetermined time after your order. You read right. So basically you order the food, devour it, then place all the dirty dishes outside your door for some minion to collect. The food will be gone by the next time you depart.

Oh the things we learn out in the world.

Koreans work harder than you pt. 2

Today I told my students that they would be free of homework because it's a holiday. Did this make my students happy? No. 3/4 of my kids wanted work. Who turns down two nights of no work? Korean children.

No, do bring food in the sack.

Eating is enormously important in Korea. Despite people's frantic work schedules, it seems that when they do sit, no moment nor bite is wasted. I should liken it to the way French or Italians obsess over their meals, but with less wine and carbohydrates.

I learn something new at every Korean meal I sit for. The most interesting stuff I pick up has to do with the relationship of certain foods and the body. For example, there's a whole battery of eats that directly effect one's "stamina." Or, as a Korean once told my friend, "this will help your cock." Erection-facilitating treats include eel, spiced shoots, and dog soup. I've yet to give the eel a go, but credible sources have assured me that it works... perhaps too well.

I'm lucky. I like the food here, and I like it a lot. It would be very difficult to live here and not enjoy what's on your plate. You would have to stick with the western food they serve, which is expensive and fatty (read: western.) That's the thing, despite the massive rice intake, you rarely see an overweight Korean. They are a very health conscious people.

I can never tell because so many of the convos fly over my head, but the little I've seen has shown me that Koreans are very intentional about the things they eat. Everything consumed has a purpose. The same can be said for things left uneaten. For example, last night I had some hard boiled eggs with a Korean man who refused to eat the yolk. He claimed there was too much cholesterol. This guy could not be in better shape, and now I see why he stays that way. But he's nothing out of the ordinary. Just last week I saw my co-teacher eat a green pepper like it was a carrot. When asked how she could handle it, she simply replied that it was very important for her vitamin levels. My sense is that most Koreans would have answered the same way.

I do miss aspects of western dining, for sure. I can't tell you how excited I will be to have an American burrito. That said, I hope I never forget the care and reverence Koreans put into their meals. It's something to behold.

The Kennedy Lounge

Though I can speak very little Korean, I can actually read it. That is, I can read the sounds on the walls all around me, though I don't often know what they mean. But that's not really saying a lot. Anyone can put it together with two hours, a korean alphabet, and an english translation. Still, you would be amazed at how many westerners forego this minor challenge. I personally consider that terribly lazy and inexcusable on their part.

The Korean alphabet translates awkwardly to English phonetics. It is a finite number of simple consonant and vowel sounds. But, like Michael Jordan in baseball, there is only so much stylistic crossover. Very few English words work when put through the Korean word grinder, but that doesn't mean Koreans won't still attempt them. For example, they say my name, Brad, as "Bu-daa-duh." Korean is also interesting because there are several english words that, for whatever reason, they never thought to make into authentic Korean words. They kept pizza, but it comes out as "Pee-cha." They kept guitar, but it comes out as "Gee-ta." They kept lap top, but it comes out as "Notuh-boook." I had a marvelous experience with another Konglish word tonight.

I was out walking my friend's dog (that's a whole other post) and I noticed a lively scene in front of a bar. This place had a nearly-life sized statue of Marilyn Monroe in front of its rustic, wooden entrance. She was in that iconic, Some Like it Hot upskirt pose. Needless to say the whole scene caught my attention. I paused for a second and made an attempt to decipher the name of the joint. My thought process went something like this:

Kay-nay-di... louw-shuh...?
Kay-nay-di... it's Marilyn... ok so it's Kennedy...
Kennedy... lowshuh... Kennedy Lounge? Yes, Kennedy Lounge!

I just can't get over what a true testament the whole thing was to American pop culture. I love that, in a totally non-descript part of a totally non-descript Korean city, there is this gaudy tribute to Norma Jean and our nation's most beloved fallen philanderer.

Stills from my life

30 minutes ago I decided, while lying in bed, that I should finally reveal to the world what my living quarters are all about. So the following shots are a sequence of what my apt looks like - at least with the blinds drawn in a state hibernatorial (made that word up) bliss. There's also an outside shot of my building just for kicks. Loving it.

Christmas in Korea: holiday as excuse.

Christmas day puts the USA at a standstill. You had better have a full fridge, because there is no chance you're grabbing a pizza on the 25th... anywhere. That is hardly the case in Korea.

In fact, I actually got a pizza from Dominos yesterday. In doing so I noticed a marked difference between the Korean and American executions of this wintry holiday. Life absolutely hustles along here regardless of Santa's presence. Most Koreans will tell you that Christmas is not really an important holiday to them. The country has a large Buddhist population who could give a crap about santa, and the day itself is not a uniquely Korean holiday like, say, Chuseok or the Lunar New year. For those reasons Christmas, in practice, is just an excuse to take a day off work and shop. And shop they did.

I went to grab a football at the local megastore/supermarket for a brisk toss on Ilsan beach. The store [Home Plus] is never empty, but I had never seen it as busy as it was. Families whizzed around with full carts everywhere the eye could see. I broke hard for the sports section and got out of there within 6 minutes. Any longer would have been trying.

In truth, it felt nice that life continued on around us yesterday. For many of the native teachers in Ulsan, it was our first Christmas away from home. So had life shut down, we would all have been confined to our tiny apartments, eating and drinking whatever nourishment we had lying around. It felt great to have some distraction. I can certainly say that it contributed to what was an amazing Christmas day (pictures forthcoming...)

So there you have it. Korean Christmas is, more or less, just one big excuse to hang up your work boots and buy a DVD player.

Daniel the taxi driver.

So there we were. It's 2 am on Christmas eve, and I'm in a cab with my friend Sam receiving sage advice on the bizarre art of romancing Korean women. The driver - he referred to himself as Daniel - had a solid grasp of the English language, but apparently had an even stronger grasp on obtaining the affections of his country-women.

Meeting Korean women is enormously frustrating. It's really a two pronged attack on their part. Not only are they a)often too shy to give their English a whirl, but b) those clever few that can speak my tongue often only engage us yanks in the hopes that we will buff up their English chops. Yes, men of the west, don't believe these misbegotten perceptions that you have of Korean women. You will not be able to saunter into their country, set up at a bar stool, and sweep them off their feet simply because you say "fuck" just like the movies. No no, these women are so much more clever than that.

Daniel engaged Sam and I in conversation, so of course we felt the need to expound upon the issues most relevant to us: most of which had to do with the frustration in our personal lives. Is there anything we could do to engage these fragile and mysterious creatures? While the problem seemed largely complicated to us, Daniel, on the other hand, believed it was really an easy fix.

Daniel's rules to meeting and romancing Korean women:

1. Meet, and show limited interest. Nothing new.
2. Second rendesvous; show more interest and ask them for a private dinner. Aka, a legit western date. Still nothing new.
3. Make an attempt to physically engage your woman. Sam and I are transfixed at this point.
...
and at that point Daniel veered into the sexual proclivities of Korean women. While his speech was interesting, there was little practicality to it. Sam and I walked away from the cab knowing way too much about the cultural relevancy of the missionary position, and way too little about how to actually engage in the process of getting there. That, and Daniel drove the slowest cab in all of Ulsan.

All in all it was an amazing night.

Brad and his rice cooker: a tale of lovers.

Like kimchi, rice is standard fare at every meal in Korea. But you're dead wrong if you think Koreans F around with boiling water in a pot. Anyone who consumes as much rice as the average Korean has got to know that is the stone age of rice preparation. Let's compare rice prep to guns, shall we. If rice-in-boiling water-pot is a musket, then the rice cooker is an M16 with a flame thrower attached.

Nobody doesn't like rice. It has to be the most inoffensive food on the planet. Though, I've always found that Asian (Thai, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Indian) restaurant rice always kicked the ass of my mom's rice at dinner. Sorry mom. There was always one reason: stickiness. These joints knew how to bang out the stickiest, most moist servings of rice. After 22 years of restaurant rice, I was convinced that they, and only they, knew how to prepare it with such exquisite texture and taste. That was, until I used my rice cooker.

Everyone home in Korea has one of these darling contraptions. In fact, some homes have more than one. Nobody, NOBODY, cooks rice in a pot of boiling water, and here's why. Boiling the rice just isn't practical if you're going to have at least two servings throughout the course of your day. You know that ish will get cold. Not with the cooker. Throw in your desired cups of rice, fill the insert bowl with to the appropriate level, and click one button. Approx. 20 minutes later your rice is hot, sticky, and ready to be shoveled onto your plate with glee. Though the joy doesn't stop there. That one click of the button tells your machine to keep that rice consistently hot for up to three days. So, whenever you're feeling like a bowl, or just a spoonful, of delicious grains, they're hot and waiting for you.

I am convinced I will need one of these devices for the rest of my life. It matters not how difficult one is to procure in the occident. People ask me whether I live alone, and I tell them I do. But in my heart I know that's a lie. I know that in room 801 of the Jangbo Officetel, it's really Brad and his rice maker.

Oscar's Predicament

I don't know about Seoul or Busan, but Ulsan has a crippling shortage of public trash cans. Westerners seriously take take these receptacles for granted. Countless times I've been walking with an apple core, because apples are unbelievably amazing here, and there's nary a basket in sight. This frustrates me to no end, mostly because I'm one of those daft people who believe that littering is bad karma. I figure my luck is shitty enough. I don't need mother nature's malice on my conscience.

So here's what I propose. I think that my time in Burlington, Vermont and Washington, DC - both places well versed in recycling and public sanitation - qualifies me to be Ulsan's trash czar. This will be my escape from the crumbling economic stature of the modern world. People need someone to pick up their trash. I will be the man who trains and designates those someones. If Ulsan was the Detroit of Korea before the Miller-era, it will be the Vancouver of Korea by the time I'm done with it. Do you think Ulsan's trash czar needs to know Korean?

Socks as statement.

Like most eastern countries, Korea is a place where you must be shoeless indoors. Even at school, we are expected to keep a pair of "indoor" slip ons in a cubby to protect the floor from the crud we might drag in. Most Korean restaurants also keep cubbies at the door to ensure a shoeless patronage.

Koreans are actually a very stylish people. So it was no surprise to me when I noticed, this weekend, that many of the Korean men around me had really flashy socks on. It makes perfect sense. Westerners tend to not care about our socks because our feet are not really exposed that often. It's the complete opposite here, and I don't know why it didn't occur to me earlier. There are little snazzy-sock vendors lining many streets, that at first seemed inoquous, but now it's all coming together.

The real irony is that I always got a schmaltzy pair of socks in my stocking on Christmas morning. They inevitably found a comfy place in the back of my drawer, and then, sorry mom, usually jumped right into the Salvation Army bag several months down the road. Now, when I actually want these eyesores, unfortunately I must contend with Santa skipping my chimney. That's the downside. The upside? I now get to actively sock shop, a first for me in 23 years. Hey Dave Smoler, any advice for a guy on what to look for in a good sock?

Delicious Pah Jeon

I will discuss many wondrous Korean foods on this blog, but I must begin by discussing my favorite: pah jeon.

Now, like any great food, it would be impossible for me to convey its full majesty with the written word. Though since many of you will never get to try pah jeon, I will do my best with the medium that I have.

Pah jeon is essentially a Korean latke. Though, like most Korean foods, it is much healthier than its western counterpart. The common pah jeon has bits of squid, grass-like shoots, onions, and a myriad of other lesser components, all held together by flour and egg.

The average pah jeon is quite thin. But of course you can find different takes at every restaurant. I was in Seoul not long ago and a friend took me to an unassuming restaurant in search of cheap eats. At first it seemed as if our food would hardly be out of the ordinary. That was until our waitress served the biggest heap of pah jeon I had ever seen. It had to have been 1 inch thick. I wanted to cry tears of joy. This was the only time that I couldn't actually finish my serving. It truly was a momentous occasion, and one that I won't soon forget.

That experience is significant not only because of the gastronomic orgasm I achieved, but because it's indicative of restaurant hunting in Korea. There are more non descript restaurants here than any small army could ever visit in 12 months. You want to tell yourself that they're all the same. They're not. In fact, some of them - like the aforementioned Seoul joint - actually have extraordinary food, but you would never know unless go in blind.

I've never been to a Korean restaurant in the states, so I have no idea what foods they do and don't have. But I'm not risking a life in the USA without pah jeon. Believe me, anyone in my proximity next year will be eating this dish until they can take it no more. In fact, I hope to be among the foremost purveyors of pah jeon on the east coast.

Man love.

Korea is a nation that fosters a serious sense of man love. There is none of this arch-agro, anti affection sentiment in the male population, like, for example, that which defines most American male relationships. Nope, it seems to me that men here love the fact that they're men, and have strong desires to congratulate each on the fact.

Men here have a very touch-centered nature. They seem to constantly grasp/graze/clasp each others shoulders, faces, upper legs, and of course, hands. Hugs are also a much more ornate practice in Korea. I've found that one thing separates a Western hug and a Korean hug: head placement. In the good old US of A, we guys usually give a stiff hug with lots of arm/chest action, with heads fully erect, staring over each other's shoulder. Korean men burrow their heads into the neck, which really emphasizes the emotional connection they share as gender compatriots. You must understand that American manhugs are not meant to be an emotional affair. After all, that would be decidedly wimpy.

Physical closeness is a trend that clearly begins at an early age with Korean men. Hand holding, hugging, and walking with arms-around-shoulders is a common sight with all my boy students. My favorite boy-love (that feels terrible to type) display goes like this. Two boy students will sit one in front of the other in a row, with the front boy sitting at an angle, and gently placing his hand on the desk and in the hand of the boy in back. It's important to also emphasize that these boys will be engaged in class, eyes on the board, but still in the throws of a casual hand hold.

Korean men often vocally embrace each other as well. Up front comments on another man's attractiveness are totally common here. I can't even begin to quantify the number of times small boys and grown men alike have openly called me "handsome." Now, I mention this not out of vanity, but because it is an experience that almost all my male friends share. American guys; just imagine meeting another dude on neutral terms, and him making casual observations about your physical appearance. You would be taken aback right? Well, it's all part of a general sense of frankness which is totally the norm.

It's invaluable to mention that, despite their physical openness, Korean men are absolutely macho, and homophobic more often than not. Though Korea is a generally modern nation, it is still socially conservative. I'm pretty sure you could count Korea's gay bars on one hand, and I doubt you could find any outside of Seoul. Furthermore, women here hardly get a fair shake.

Don't get me wrong, women work, they have agency in the dating world, and they have many of the same legal protections that western women do. But, for example, you would never see a woman principle. There is an enormous discrepancy in pay scale between the sexes that goes unchecked. It is improper for women to smoke cigarettes in public (they do it in bathrooms). It is improper for women to drink alcohol in the company of men outside of bars/clubs. It is almost unheard of for a woman to hold a prestigious leadership position in business or politics. This antiquated cultural sexism only facilitates rampant man love. It's like Korean men all believe they are part of some elite club, and must congratulate each other on their achievement.

I think there's nothing wrong with a little man love. Friendships are perhaps the most important relationships anyone can have, so why not feed them with a little TLC? I think that the American man's reticence to physically emote is born out of some misplaced sense of insecurity. As if there's any logical connection between wanting to hug a friend and fuck him? Come on, we're a little more advanced than that. Am I wrong my yankee brethren?