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.

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.

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.

My quaint new years eve.

2008's NYE will be a mellow one for me. I am stuck in Ulsan in the bonds of an old promise to watch a friend's dog. Do random acts of kindness still warrant good karma if they were doled out while under the influence? I sure as fuck hope so.

Though, I'm considering hitting the Ulsan scene. There are about a dozen bars I could go to right now, and most likely there would be a good scene there. But is a NYE something worth gambling? The rub is that all my friends are in Seoul... where I would be if it wasn't for Snuzzler the dog (yes, that is his real name). Am I unhealthy and anti-social because I think a night in with good music and delicious glasses of OrJu (above) is a good thing? All you screwdriver (vodka+OJ) fans out there; you need to know that this baby tops it. Get your hands on some Soju (ever-present Korean hooch) and prove me right.

My feeling is that what Ulsan lacks in over-the-top nightlife, it more than makes up for in blue collar charm. For example, a student told me today that most of Ulsan will gather in the morning at my local beach to watch the first sunrise of 2009. She told me that she is, and I quote, "Very proud of Ulsan. I very much like that we can see the first sun of 2009 before other cities." I say damn right Ho-Yeon. If you can be proud of Ulsan, so can I. So screw the revellers. Have your night out. You can find me on the beach come sunrise.

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.

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.

It's all in the family

(... ho old me closa tiny dansuh!)
There's a shitty bar in Ulsan called Benchwarmers, but its the defacto haunt for most of us native teachers. The real jewels of Benchwarmers are the brave Koreans who imbibe freely and try their hand at drunken, English conversations. These people purposely remove themselves from the majority to join our seedy underbelly, and for that I give them my sincerest admiration.

Hazel and Ryan own "Bench," as we like to call it. She's a Brit, who I just discovered has a wonderful butt, and he's a Korean, who probably has a nice butt too. They're both more or less local celebrities with the Ulsan bar crowd. They're both young, attractive, charming, and ambitious enough to warrant some serious suitors. Anyway, my mention of them at this point is only necessary in framing the following events.

One month I ago I played an open mic at bench, and received some wonderful dancing accompaniment from the gent pictured above. He ripped the floor apart continuously for the last two songs of my set, and then pretty much shimmied his way out the door. Fast forward to last night. I walk into the bar and there he is at the exact same perch, completely drunk once again. We share a warm embrace, he kisses my cheek, and we exchange salutations that neither of us understand. About one hour later he drags the microphone out of the corner and tinkers with the PA in a failed attempt to address the masses. Ryan comes over I guess to gently put the man back in his seat and restore peace. But being this man's friend, and a bit drunk, I intercede. I tell Ryan that this man is my friend, and that we will sing a song together, if that's ok of course. Ryan laughs hard and says this...

"(laughing) no it's ok. This man is my father. He is very drunk and needs to go home now."

Here's what I want to know; what needs to happen in order for my son to open a bar where I can go get safely trashed on the weekends?

The Driving Spirit

Today I did something that most native teachers (the given name of english-speaking teachers in Korea) will do at some point in their stay: attempted a day of Jeopardy. I mean why not? It's competitive, It's a perfect vehicle for covering a whole semester of class, and it's mellow enough that it doesn't seem like average classroom drudgery. Was it a good idea? I say yes. Did it follow through? Not really.

I started the game with teams picked at random (count off! 1-2-1-2... we've all been there). That quickly fizzled because the two geniuses on either team basically went head to head, while everyone else tore out the pages of their text books to throw at each other. My co-teacher had the seemingly brilliant idea of splitting the teams up by gender. I liked it. Perhaps a little gender solidarity might make more cohesive teams, I thought. Wrong.

All that solidarity did was put more pressure on the shoulders of either boy/girl genius. What happened? Tears happened. I had created an atmosphere where any wrong answer was seemed to be not only a let down to the team, but a letdown to the gender. By the end of the day we saw four cases of legitimate head-in-hands crying because one person or the other misspelled "climb." I felt like an asshole.

A word to the wise: don't ever underestimate the pride of 11-year old Koreans.