Teks For The Cha

More than words

2010-04-23T01:40:00.002+09:00

When I was just a young boy, I lived in a small town. This town was so quintessentially American it's like a parody. I lived in a modern semi-prefab 3 bedroom house with a playroom (what a spoiled only child brat) and right down the street from my friend. I could walk wherever I wanted and for a few years, I caused mischief with the neighborhood boys, explored drainage ditches, played Nintendo and just generally lived the life that all young boys want to live. Perfection, of course, cannot last and so these things changed.

There was a girl at the time who babysat for me. I have no idea how my father found her, but for a while (was it year? a summer? a month?) she was the go to family childcare provider. I can't remember clearly if my mother ever knew her or if my mother was even in this tiny shit town at this point in my life. She may have left for the big city by then, leaving me with my father on the weekends to play inappropriate video games and eat hot dogs.

But this girl, I remember this girl so well. Her name was Tammy Bliss, which in retrospect, is funny because of the meaning of her last name. I want a last name that is a feeling. Anyway, she drove me around the tiny little town in her fucking Chevy Cavalier or what have you and she had this huge key ring. And when she would make turns, the key ring would just jangle against her steering column. I can still picture this image and the corresponding sound. It was almost like a sloshing of ice filled water against a boat. And there was something about the way she drove, she must have been turning every few minutes because I picture the sloshing of these keys like it was yesterday. She drove me to swimming lessons everyday at the community pool. I can't believe I lived in a town so incredibly American that it had a local pool that you could take lessons in and my family threw that right down the drain. This should be the kind of thing you hold on to.

Anyway, so she's driving me everywhere in this podunk town in her stupid car and she has a cassette deck. Everybody back then had a cassette deck. CD players were only for your house, see? So, in the deck, for the whole summer or year or whatever all she ever played was Extreme's "More Than Words." She had like the cassette single which featured the original song, a radio edit and an instrumental version. She knew this song so well. And I came to know it too, after hearing it everyday on the way to swimming lessons. We would sing it, in harmony, some 17 year old high schooler and the 5 year old she was responsible for every day without fail.

I know this happened so often, but I still just picture this one day. She took to me to her high school to pick up something and the halls were all dark tile floors and cold chills and Breakfast Club 80s architecture. I sat in that car, listening to the stupid tape and thinking about my future at this high school. But by then, I knew I wouldn't go there and that I would be at a high school in the big city someday living big dreams and a big life with lots of cool friends. How did I know that? How could a 5 year old be so perceptive? How is it that when I was younger I was more capable of knowing what was really in store for me? I just sat waiting in that car for her to come out and singing those words...

"Saying I love you, is not the words I want to hear you say..."

I remember following the saga of this babysitter years later, picking up snippets of conversation and life tidbits. Working in a factory here, not escaping small town life there, that's where the story ends. What could she be doing now? Is it possible that she is sitting, hands wrapped around her knees like me, thinking about how we used to listen to "More than Words" together? Is it possible that something so meaningless could carry so much meaning for a couple of young kids who grew up in different decades? I want to run down the halls of her high school wearing a varsity jacket back in 1987 and remember what it felt like to be that small town boy. I want to forget everything that has come to define my life as an adult and sit in that car harmonizing those stupid words. I want the clarity I had when I was 5 years old.

"Hold me close, don't ever let me go. More than words is all you ever needed to show."

More than anything, I want her to tell me what the song even meant.

My first audition in Korea

2010-03-12T01:27:00.001+09:00

So, last weekend, in a fit of trying to promote myself and actually pursue goals that I may or may not have, I went to 홍대 and dropped off my CDs at a couple of clubs.

I did this, because, as of yet, people have not magically found my Myspace page and just asked me to play. Yes, I am that naive.

One place took my CD and said they'd text me (they did and they want me to play on some random weekday in a couple weeks) and the other scheduled an audition for tonight (Thursday).

Now, that club (Club 빵) said I needed to audition. On a Thursday. At 10pm. This is no small feat considering that I get off of work at 9 every night, live in rural Songpa-gu and Hongdae is an hour away by subway. So, naturally, I agreed. I had to write the guy an email asking him a few questions (how many songs to play, do you have a guitar amp etc.) and had to do the whole thing in Korean. It is a testament to how much better I have gotten since returning that I was able to do so. After all, reading and writing is simple, it's the damn listening I can't do.

So, fast forward to tonight, legs all scurrying down subway stairs lugging this damn guitar and a backpack full of my band, which is basically a computer. I've been rehearsing all week and the thought that keeps going through my head is:

this is gonna be f---ing boring to watch

One guy, singing, playing guitar most of the time and then some music that should theoretically make you want to dance every now and then. Oh, and you can see the laptop just sitting there. It occurred to me I need some people to play with, but the audition was today; what could I do?

I get there and there is a band playing some interestingly Latin-ified Beatles cover that made me smile repeatedly in its sheer audaciousness. I'm thinking: am I playing in front of this crowd? I go ask the guy at the counter what's up and he responds I'll go on in a bit. He speaks no English by the way. I'm looking at these people trying to think how to say, "Do I have to play in front of this crowd?" I could manage "These people will watch me play?" but decide to just deal with it, come what may. I order a beer.

After 20 minutes, the place is pretty much emptied out and I go onstage. Making requests on stage is challenging in another language. I wonder if this translates as I hoped...
"이컴퓨터가 모니터에 너무시끄뤄요." The computer is too loud in the monitors.
"어떤앰프사용해야해요?" Which amp should I use?

So I play two songs, "Air Bud's Lament" and "The Ghosts of Us" (a new 9 minute heartbreak disco epic that will be up soon), for the 6 people in there, and only f--k up occasionally. The response is lukewarm, but the joy of hearing my music on really loud speakers does get me a little turned on. And of course, there is the adrenaline of doing this for the first time since last summer and doing it in Korea.

Afterward, I talk to the guy and he says if I had a band it would be better. It would be more interesting to watch. How much longer will I be here? I should get a band. Basically, the message is, this guy will not let me play alone at this club. At this point, I'm feeling the adrenaline of just having done something new and challenging, and its mixing with the disappointment of realizing my live act is boring.

My conclusion...I need to get a couple people to help me play live. Now I feel like I should tell this other club that wants me to play on a random Thursday or whatever that I'm just some white guy with a laptop and guitar that will bore the shit out of the older Korean male club owners in the audience. And considering that will probably be all that sees me play, I'm in trouble.

One last Saturday

2009-12-19T03:14:00.003+09:00

"Spit it out," he said, sweat dripping off his brow slightly. At first, it was funny, but now things were getting out of hand.

Her tiny sticky fingers gripped the little toy ever more tightly as she pushed it further into her mouth. The table was smeared with pancake syrup and orange juice and her fingers were so dirty.

"This isn't funny," he laughed, in an effort to cover up how unfunny the whole thing was. It was like she didn't even understand him.

Not laughing, she continued pushing the long leg of her doll further towards the abyss of her lungs. The man knew, as did she, that once it got there, there was no turning back.

Her first gagging sound was innocent enough. The man tried to brace himself for what he knew he would hear and tried coaxing her yet. "Come on, stop playing around," he said, but somewhere inside he knew it was all in vain.

The sound of the toy scraping flesh tearing her fragile throat as she prodded and pushed, all in effort for what he didn't quite understand.

Her eyes were watering. She was determined. So was he, though. He would not allow this to happen. Not on his watch. Not on a Saturday.

Her precious young hand made one final push for glory, just as the man sprang from his seat and lunged to prevent the busted off plastic doll appendage from making its home in the girl's neck; but he was too late, and it stuck, lodged in a way that only the most skilled surgeon could remove.

The man ran through his options quickly as a dog barked outside. The sound permeated his mind and he couldn't think straight. The girl's face was turning blue as the room filled with sound of faint choking and gasping, rising at once over the sound of the annoying dog. He could reach into her mouth and try to retrieve it, but this might fail, or worse, hurt the girl more. He could call for help, but this might take too long. In the clamor of his thought, in the haze of his crisis, he neglected to see that his very inaction might be the most dangerous of all choices and that fucking doll foot made its way deeper and deeper into her esophagus until he was left with no choices whatsoever.

When the man finally realized what was happening, it was too late. The girl was slumped back in her seat, eyes rolled back, a tiny tear dripping from each one. The man, exhausted from thinking, had nothing to do. Passing a cursory glance over her limp, small body, he got up to fix himself a cup of coffee and consider calling the doctor. He thought that it would be hard to explain what had happened to a third party, that no one could understand, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that it was her own damn fault.

Let it be our resolution

2009-12-16T01:31:00.002+09:00

On the eve of a new year, it is customary to make proclamations and wishes and demands of yourself. Many gather, drunk, to proclaim that the next year will be different; that it will be full of change, that it will be the year you wake up and start to do all the things have put off for so long. I, too, have made this mistake.

It is a year, in college, I cannot remember when, I gather at a friend's house to celebrate this event. It is a strange time. We are not friends as before, but we don't possess enough new friends to necessitate a special new celebration. You might say we are "in transition."

Not quite 21, I coerce my father into giving me some assorted drinks for the night, the crowning achievement of which is a full bottle of wine given to him by some locals; I put it in a Nalgene bottle to avoid to detection. In this land of seeming contradictions, I am old enough to drive but not old enough to drink.

I arrive at my friends house and we fall into old habits. "Let's just try something out," we say.
"Let's just play around with music for a while," we think.

We do what we are accustomed to, but in our new life, these things that once worked no longer do. Once able to connect like few others could, we now fail pathetically. In his basement, we sit, mum and bored.

"We could drink the wine," I say.

We drink it all, quickly.

"Let's go for a walk," he says.

We journey, in the freezing December (no, January!) cold to places we have seen many times before. It was in this cold that we once tied his dog, old and blind, to a sled full of our belongings to drag into the wilderness. This led to a fight with another dog in the yard over a half-decaying deer head. It's better not to think about these things.

We journey, over grass and Queen Anne's lace, past what were once islands, into a sand pit. It was in this scene that we were once yelled at for playing paintball with other friends; scolded like the children that we were and put in our place. We long for someone to put us in our place again and tell us what it is we should be doing. But this will not happen, for we are now adults. In my Nalgene bottle, I hold the key to adulthood and the forgetting of all childhood problems. I take a drink and offer it to my friend. It is the least I can do.

We journey, into the depths of this sand pit, like some forgotten wasteland in the middle of all our nostalgia and memories. The wind whips up and we sip on that bottle, I shout that it all feels so good and I can really remember what it was like to be young. As I write this, I am devastated to know that I had such futile and naive feelings even so long ago. It means that I have been dead longer than I thought.

We finish the wine and walk back in that biting cold, remembering, talking and feeling like we used to. I know when we get back to his house it is going to be over. It will be just another New Year's and just another night of empty promises and dreams.

We curl up in the living room and watch a movie we used to really love. I can't quite connect with it in the same way. The drink is getting to me. I walk into the bathroom, and in the still silence of that New Year's night, I empty my stomach of all the wine we shared. Walking back into the darkness of the living room, and the faint glow of the television, I suggest it is time for bed. I'm getting too old for this shit.

In a place just like this

2009-12-07T01:59:00.002+09:00

It is a cold night tonight. It's probably 20 degrees. But at least there is no wind. I've said it before, but that wind comes down from Siberia and it will chill you to the bone. There is nothing colder.

It is late when I leave my friend's house on the other side of town. I am tired and my head hurts and I briefly consider taking a taxi. It would only be 3,000won and would cut 18 minutes or so off my journey, but I opt to walk. The biting cold is what I need to wake me up; to put some feeling back into my mind and my body.

I walk, headphones on, only partially recognizing what I pass. I have passed these things so many times they have ceased to be foreign or novel, they are just life. After all, the end of novelty is the start of reality. I forget that I am in a foreign country that I am doing something abnormal that I am not back in Michigan. I forget these things often.

The things you see when you walk late at night here are more unique than my circumstances. Drunk friends stumbling in the street, arguing loudly and helping each other along, a husband and wife in the midst of a verbal altercation about to turn physical, a lone elderly woman pushing a baby stroller full of dismantled cardboard boxes and sobbing LOUDLY after passing me...these things are just images and sounds, isolated from my existence. I see them, but I don't truly experience them. I am walking, unmolested and unreal, home.

A police car passes, sirens silently flashing but no sound to remind one it is there.

Many of the buildings are unlit and closed, strange for this city, but perhaps not strange for a Sunday night. Even the popular 24 hour barbecue restaurant is completely empty, a feat I'm not sure I've ever witnessed. I cross the large street at the crosswalk, but it is unnecessary: in the middle of the road I pause to see that no cars are to be found in either direction on the 6 lane road. I am alone.

Coming nearer to my house, the isolation I feel is striking. I can't hear anything with my headphones on and I barely sense that I am coming upon the scene of accident. I am utterly surprised to see a car, headlights glaring, stopped in the middle of a roundabout very near my house. I suppress the natural curiosity that surrounds events like these and continue my walk, stoically. It is then that I notice there is a victim, lying on the ground. Police are scampering and random people are milling about. There is much shouting in Korean and then I hear it. Someone is speaking English.

I am too shocked to react. Who is that? What are they doing here? They sound in trouble. In a quick moment of horror, I realize the person lying on the ground is shouting in English.

As I near the scene, the police take notice of me and begin approaching me. They call to me in Korean, but I am too confused to reply. The man in the road has now noticed me and he calls to me too, in English.

"Sir, please come here. I can't explain to them what has happened. I need your help."

The word echoes in my brain. Help.

The police and man are staring at me as I continue to walk around them. I can see my home, my bed, my warm floor, all within close proximity. The man is still calling to me. His eyes are begging me to help him. I cannot forget those eyes.

Adjusting the headphone in my ear, I continue walking past the commotion towards my house, not looking back. Tonight, it is only sleep that I need.

So, you're 19 then?

2009-11-27T01:22:00.002+09:00

This Sunday, I found myself at a small mallish sort of thing with a couple of friends. Entering the fourth floor, which was reserved for men's clothes, we scuttled around not finding much. Passing a booth, we remarked on the beauty of the woman working there. In a few minutes, we found ourselves back at this store and buying clothes. I was conscious of a certain flirtation with this woman. She touched my arm and remarked about my Korean, sense of humor and in what was perhaps an attempt at encouraging jealousy, Micah's good style. Nonetheless, I felt a certain something. Micah and Richard started to go down the escalator after our purchases were made and I felt that classic feeling:
"This girl is attractive. Do something."
"I can't do anything. What do I ever do?"
"This should be different. Say something."
"I am not outgoing with the opposite sex. Don't do anything and regret it for the next 2 hours."
And then I thought of my friend Josh.

Josh approaches members of the opposite sex without hesitation. I want to be like him. On Sunday, I was.

Richard and Micah embarked on the escalator and I said, "Hold on, I'll be there in a moment."

Me: "You speak English well."
Her: "Oh, thanks." (awkward pause)
Me: "Where did you learn?"
Her: "I just studied in high school."
Me: "Well, I study Korean. We could help each other."
Her: "That's a good idea."
Me: " Okay, let me get your number."
Score (I think).

Fast foward to last night. After some text messages, I have a date with this mysterious girl. I can't remember what she looked like, all I remember is that she was incredibly beautiful and Richard kept whispering in my ear, "Oh my god she's so hot." As if she didn't understand English.

We head to a coffee shop and it becomes apparent she actually wants me to help her with her English. Well, that could change I think. After about 10 minutes, I discover she's a freshman in college. To be exact, she's 19 years old. She is majoring in jewelry design. I am editing a speech she's writing to introduce herself. Her teacher has told her to be confident and immodest. She is far from humble as a result.

I look at the rings she wears and point out one that has a sort of combination look looking thing on it. She says she likes rings a lot because she's so into jewelry. I ask what the numbers mean. She says they are her boyfriend's birthday.

Fantastic. Great. Why am I actually pursuing a 19 year old anyway? Am I pursuing one, let alone one in a relationship in her first year of college with nothing in common with me?

But the point stands, I asked her for her number. This is not minor. This is exceptional. She is incredibly beautiful, but not a match for me in any sense of the word.

If I were a body of water, I would be a small stream or a puddle at best.

The city

2009-11-15T23:19:00.002+09:00

The city is a massive stretch of lights from a distance. Through the steamed-up window of the bus, you can see the lights stretching as far as you can see, only blocked by the occasional mountain poking up through the valley that is the city. You know you are getting close when the bus starts stopping.

This is traffic. And it is part of life in the city. The highways and roads that were meant to be the arteries and lifeblood of the city have taken to transporting poison and smog and are choking the city and its inhabitants to death. We sit, still, waiting for the next hiccup of movement to propel us slowly towards the city, knowing all the while, the further in we get, the harder it will be to get out again.

The tall apartment buildings, so functional, so utilitarian; I remind myself that they were built by human hands. The whole city was, but it has taken on a life of its own since then. Each brick paver in the myriad sidewalks, each tree, each road and bridge was painstakingly built to create the city from the old one, and it is now our home.

I will never know the whole city, it is far too large for that. I stay in my corner with the people and places I know. Occasionally, we venture further into the massive beast but mostly we stick to the well-traveled routes and summer homes we have created for ourselves.

I am struck by the thought that the city cares nothing for me, would not care or cease functioning if I disappeared tomorrow by way of death, abduction or transportation. Yet, like a lover scorned, I cannot turn away.

Dark garbi

2009-11-15T22:46:00.005+09:00

It is amazing how complacent and set in their ways one can get even in a foreign country. After living here for one year, I had only seen one city outside of Seoul in Korea. This time, I have decided to branch out and turn imagination into reality in terms of traveling.

Towards this end, Richard and I set out for Chuncheon this weekend. Well, actually we had planned to go all the way to the East Sea but didn't leave early enough, misread the bus schedule, suddenly found ourselves not wanting to drive for 3.5 hours only arrive at night etc etc. So, we hopped a more frequent bus to a closer destination. Chuncheon is a smaller city about 1.5 hours east of Seoul, in a nice valley with a large lake that nobody inexplicably has homes near. We arrived at about 5:00pm, got our bearings over a cup of coffee and walked 2km to a hotel. For the cost, it was rather nice.

It didn't take long to get an understanding of the city, as it's quite small and could be walked if you don't mind 3km or so of walking. The city is famous for dalk galbi, which is a chicken stir-fry that was invented in Chuncheon. As a result, there is the dalk galbi street which is 20 some restaurants all claiming to be the first inventors. The idea of a restaurant street is a distinctly Korean phenomenon, what with their penchant for small businesses and the sheer numbers that seems to entail. We ate at one that had a bunch of TV recommendations (they all did actually) and impressed the woman when we suggested that ours was not spicy enough. When I inquired as to what kind of liquor the people next to us were having, the man overheard, called for a glass for us and poured us one. These people are amazing. It was pear wine, and it was delicious so we ordered a bottle for ourselves. I had been skeptical as to if the dalk galbi would really be better than it is in Seoul, and I am confident I was not led astray.

After dinner the first night, we headed towards the lake, which according to my map looked only a short distance away from the city center. We walked through a deserted American military base all fenced off and looking ominous as hell until coming to a road that ran parallel to the lake. We chose to go right because it looked like it intersected another road just a short way down that would go to the lake. Alas, that turned out to be just an alleyway into somebody's house so we continued down this road utterly and completely alone in the darkness. This was certainly NOT Seoul. After about 10 minutes of walking a few cars passing, we came to a street branching off towards the lake. There were plenty of well-lit stores going down this street, and there appeared to be a young woman in a bathing suit looking at herself in a mirror in the front of one of them. Confused, we turned left to see three scantily clad ladies sitting in chairs in more well-lit frontrooms. Something was amiss, we had stumbled into a red light district. Did this kind of thing exist in Korea? I knew prostitution was accepted here and even common by many measures but not in this sort of Amsterdam-ish throw it in your face kind of way. We turned around, scandalized and curious.

Walking all the way back the way we had come, still not seeing any people (except for the call girls) we finally found a road leading to the lake. We bought two beers at a convenience store and pushed onward down a street to the lake. Reaching the end of this street, we discovered a hill once again blocking our path. I could see a light of some sort on the hill, and knowing that there was a bike path along the lake, concluded this was in fact the lake. All the stood between us was green fence. We hopped it and FINALLY saw the lake. It literally took about two hours to make this happen. It was absolutely freezing. The wind blew in hard and we walked further along the lake. We came across a party ferry full of older Korean men and women dancing and singing along to Dire Straits' "Sultans of Swing." The surrealness of that situation was not lost on us, either. As we stood on a bridge overlooking the pretty lake, it began to snow very lightly. The rarity of that in Korea was not lost on us.

Looping back through the city, we eventually walked all the way back to the hotel, putting us easily at over 10km for the day and all done in temperatures below freezing.

Waking today, we ate dalk galbi again for lunch. This time it was more garlicky and perhaps a little more delicious. We took a taxi to a ferry port and took a boat to a small island that is basically a large campground. We circumnavigated it and took the ferry home within an hour. We caught the bus back to Seoul. It feels good to be home.

Donkey-jawed diction

2009-11-11T01:48:00.003+09:00

"Those who can't do, teach. But what about those who can't teach?"
-Unknown, September 2005.

These leaves fall fast on brick pavers loose under tire of bike and foot of man. These leaves, orangish yellow and crunchy to the touch, fall fast from the myriad gingko trees now stripped of stinking, overripe gingko nuts collected by elderly married women and their doting husbands, in tow. These leaves, like yellow horseshoes caught underneath the heavy weight of the air, twist and turn in a beautiful dance down to the recently painted bike path that edges the sidewalk. I twist, too, as they do.

It is fall in Seoul, and there is simply not a better season here. Winter, with its harsh Siberian wind and dearth of snow is simply painful and summer, with its excessive heat and humidity making one feel all the while that they are trapped somewhere between a high school locker room and the depths of Hell, have nothing to offer. Spring, brings with it condolences and green but lacks the thrilling pre-winter chills and breezes of autumn. These yellow leaves will only be in abundance for this short two month season until they are stripped away and replaced only by absence and heartbreak.

Yet, I ride home, unaware. Working up a sweat on my bike, my head fills with the haze of exercise. I come home, empty-handed and tired, to a humid, hot apartment that smells vaguely of a trash can that needs emptying. I open the window. Somewhere, a cat is in heat and is yelping and meowing through my window screen. The ridiculous and out of place dog that lives next door to me barks in response, as if echoing my own disdain towards the stupid feral cat.

With only one light on to cast shadows about my room, I lay in bed and ponder my present and future. What about my past? That old adversary, that troublesome wretch, that old unkillable bastard that so haunted me...what about it?

Leave those questions to the scholars and philosophers. I will trouble myself no more with them.

The playground, one year later

2009-10-24T02:37:00.001+09:00

It's on a night like the one before, but at a different time in my life. After we get a drink, I suggest something I've done before, but something she has no idea about. We should go for a walk.

It was a little less than one year ago that I took this same walk with a different person. We roamed awkwardly through those apartments stumbling through conversations and learning about each other. This time, with a common language, I can learn more in one night than I did in 5 months before. But is this progress? Or just sensory overload?

We head through the same gate and up the same street. Cognizant of repeating myself, I steer us in a different destination and we sip our drinks as we swing.

My mind thinks back to asking if she believed in UFOs, and her asking me if I believed in ghosts. She actually mentioned that to me not too long ago. It's so hard to believe she even understood what I said half the time that the shock of her remembering really broke my heart when she said it. But regardless, we probably won't talk again.

This time, after swinging, we walk past the sidewalk and look down under the apartment buildings. There are dark crypts under each one, and with the weak light of our cellphones we don't dare enter. Both swearing to acquire flashlights and return, we press on to the next playground and climb the jungle gym. Again, I am astonished by how much ground we can cover talking in this language. There's no time to parse out anything, no time to bite my lip as I strain to make my point known, no mystery; I am talking with my twin.

We climb down off the dangerous apparatus and I take her to the original playground (of course she has no idea that this is what it in fact is); the one I went to one year ago. And I see the swings and weird slides and all the apartments looking down on us. But instead of swinging and talking about aliens and space, we see-saw and laugh with each other. Laughing is easy when you share a common language. We finish our beer and feel good and laugh. But I couldn't tell you what we talked about. I just know it wasn't aliens and space and ghosts. Why can't I remember?

We walk on to a grassy field that I didn't know about until more recently, behind this decrepit shopping center sort of thing but absolutely beautiful in its isolation. We lay on the wet grass, attacked by mosquitoes, but happy to lay together and look up at the few stars visible in the smog ridden night sky. I have come to find out she makes an excellent mosquito repellent; they seem far more drawn to her than me. We talk some more, and I strangely can't remember the content.

Then we depart, together, hand in hand (like before!) and into a world that is still uncertain. My feet are so happy to retrace their steps, but what do they want from the person walking next to them?

I heard the city is going to demolish those old apartments and put up newer, taller, shinier ones in their place. And people will then live and work and trample on the dust of the old playgrounds and my skeletons and memories in the name of progress.

We came back to have something

2009-10-24T02:11:00.002+09:00

I weave, deftly, headphones pushed into my ears clogged with wax and music, past stray cats and parked cars and moving cars, barely squeaking past a taxi as it approaches my left side. I am here, and I am heading back to an isolated mosquito infested apartment in another neighborhood in another district in another time zone from my memories and my friends. I am here, and I am still happy, but I am stagnant.

Walking into my apartment, my nose is dripping from the cold. I quickly push my bike inside to avoid the mosquitoes who will most certainly try to infiltrate and destroy me while I sleep; they feed on my blood and breed in my shower drain, setting up some kind of microcosmic ecosystem they will possibly be able to sustain throughout the freezing winter and far past their normal life span. The sound of them buzzing in my ear as I sleep is almost as loud as as the wailing choir that follows me around "what now what now what now what now?" I yearn to answer, but I am as of yet unable to do so.

I curse my nose, and the headphone cable that gets caught around my neck as I try to loosen my scarf, and the door lock that won't shut without my prodding and the bike hitting my refrigerator as I barge in and myself for not doing something of interest tonight. Each night, could it be so precious, could it be so valuable that I would throw it away for so little? God, even the albums I am so familiar with sound so different tonight...

There is the past and there is the future, but what of the present? I have tried the past and it got me nowhere. I don't find much more solace in the future. So what about now? What will I find if I truly invest myself in what I am surrounded in? Will I be happy with what I find? Or is this haze all I have left? My brain aches at the thought of it. For now, sleep and the knowledge that maybe such questions can be pondered tomorrow is all there is.

Where did the good guys go?

2009-09-04T00:51:00.003+09:00

Today was my first day back at POLY, which deserves an entry all its own. I should start by saying how I've been feeling being back in Korea.

I'm in love. With the country I mean. It's been a total rebirth over here for me. Every meal, every girl on the street, every labored conversation in Korean, every mountain I see through the smog in the distance is a reminder of why I came here and how happy I am to be back. And after a few days, I know why it is so different.

The last time I came here, it was my first international foray. I viewed it as a new experience that I had to have; to catch up to everyone else, to stop feeling like I was wasting my life, to DO SOMETHING. If that's all it was to me, well then, it was a temporary experience. I frankly would have rather been in Japan, a place I thought had more cachet. It was a waystation on the road to a new me. And for that, I almost never completely invested myself in it. I can consciously remember having thoughts like "well, it's okay but..." I can barely believe I ever took that attitude over here. At the same time, I was consciously hoping for a change in myself. I was so unhappy with my life at the time and still obsessed with my past (a quick glance at my journal entries from that time will excruciatingly illustrate that if one were so possessed) that I was just waiting to change who I was. And after a few months in Korea, I remember thinking, "well, I'm still me." I thought maybe because I wanted the change explicitly, that it could never happen. And after a few more months, once I had stopped actively searching for it, I realized that I had changed. Since that point, I have been a different person: a better, healthier person who I am still getting to know. But it was a slow change, and once it was done, I then felt, well, I'm done here in Korea, what's left for me? I have journal posts one could read that also illustrate this perspective, if one were so inclined of course.

But upon leaving, literally after 2 weeks out of the country, I realized that part of the new me was Korea. Everything I loved about the country, I could not find elsewhere (so far). And so I fantasized and planned and kept my weird memories of the beauty of this place, and I packed them away until I could use them again. I slowly realized that maybe, for now, I could only use them here. So I came back.

And I came here with new eyes. It is with these eyes that I walk the streets, in awe of this culture and place; this land that I have chosen, again, to make my home. To be proud of. To be part of. And it is that I have made this choice, again, that makes all the difference. May I never forget this awe and this feeling. And may I never be numb again.

Observations after 3 days Vol. 1

2009-08-28T15:29:00.002+09:00

Some of these are re-realizations, others are new found. All are PROFOUND.

Korean coffee is strong, and delicious.

When I drink caffeine, I get really positive and productive.

Korean women are absolutely gorgeous.

I love the way Korean women greet you when you enter a business establishment; it's so cute and upbeat.

Korean food is so much better than I ever remembered. Ramyun here is much spicier than what I used to make at home.

Seoul is so HUMID.

Going out and doing things in a foreign language is thrilling, slightly anxiety-inducing and intellectually stimulating.

I don't like white people who aren't from my school.

Having a cell phone with a Korean to English dictionary is incredibly awesome.

Studying Korean makes me happy. Coffee makes me want to do it more.

I'm incredibly pleased to be back here.

On being back

2009-08-27T20:34:00.003+09:00

I'm definitely having culture shock.

I don't remember even having this the first time. There's people all over the street. I swear, they are looking at me. Foreigner, they think. I forgot what this feels like; this constant appraisal by strangers.

The subway is wonderful, I missed it. But I wish people would stop staring. I forgot my passport, now I can't get a cell phone. Better to just go home. Nothing else to do.

People are saying things I can't understand. I never could before, but I was just used to it. Right now, I find it nervewracking. The guy in the Family Mart says something. Why did he just address me? He knows I can't understand. It was totally unnecessary. He was probably saying the equivalent of "what do you need?" I just told him I'm okay. I hope that made sense in that context.

Shit, it is humid. Summer in Seoul is 90% humidity every day. It mixes with the pollution and your skin feels dirty all the time. I want fall.

I walk into the kimbap place and they just STARE. I sit down to order and nobody brings over an order card. They just watch me scan the menu on the wall, thinking "like this asshole knows what he's reading." I call for their attention and order.

Walking down the street, the city looks beautiful. It's cloudy and sticky and hot and congested, but I missed this place so much. It's just going to take a little getting used to, that's all.

The wrong kind of foreigner

2009-08-27T20:14:00.002+09:00

I arrived back in Seoul and pulled my massive luggage out into the bus terminal. I was giddy with excitement and lack of sleep. I was roughly 36 hours with only 6 hours of sleep. It was intense.

I stepped outside and it was humid. Damn, I forgot how humid this country is. I bought my bus ticket and happened upon some other foreigners. I was speaking to a married couple coming over on the plane for their first year of teaching. The woman was a social studies middle school teacher and they were both intelligent and pleasant. They put me in a good mood.

A bearded man had some questions about the bus. Yes, he was in the right place I told him. He was working for CDI, a large school my friend Andrew worked for and the place that is responsible for all this quarantine business. He seemed nice. Another whitey approached, also quite kind. After we boarded the bus, I noticed there were 4 other white people on the bus with me. Then, they became the kind of foreigner I don't like.

They started conversing (loudly) in English. The conversation that follows was between 3 of them, but has been edited to flow better.

Why did you come to Korea?
Oh, you know, I figured I graduated, I've got nothing else to do why not?
You an Ohio State fan?
You know it.
(meaningless sports banter for at least 10 minutes-favorite teams, what to watch etc)
Do you speak any Korean?
No, man just annyong haseyo.
Have you heard about Itaewon?
Yeah, it sounds like I could watch some games there.

During all this, the older Korean gentleman next to me has a rather annoyed look on his face that I recognize. It is the same look on my face. It says, "who are these intruders?"

I fell asleep quickly due to exhaustion and because of the intense rush hour traffic, we had barely moved.

I'm rich!!!

2009-08-17T14:32:00.003+09:00

Dear Sir/Madam

My name is (staff Sgt.) David B#### i am an American soldier, serving in the Military with the
army's 3rd infantry division.

i have a very desperate need for Assistance and have summed up courage to contact you.
I found your contact through internet serching and I am seeking your kind Assistance to move the sum of Five million United States dollars (us$5,000,000) to you, as far as I can be assured that my share will be safe in your care Until i complete my service here.

OMG I'm so happy he is considering me for this. I knew having my contact info on Google would be useful. He summed up his courage, which is wonderful because it means he had to gather it from many sources and add it up, rather than say SUMMON it from a single source.

Source of money: some money in US currencies were discovered in barrels at a Farmhouse near one of saddam’s old palaces in tikrit-iraq during a rescue operation, and it was agreed by staff Sgt Kenneth buff and i that some part of this money be shared Between both of us before informing anybody about it sinceboth of us saw the money first.

Yes, I've heard this is quite common for soldiers to do.

This was quite an illegal thing to do, but i tell you what! no compensation can make up For the risk we have taken with our lives in this hell hole, of which my brother in-law Was killed by a road side bomb last time.

Last time? The last time he was in Iraq? Or the last time you went on patrol?

The above figure was given to me as my share, and to conceal this kind of money become a Problem for me but with the help of a British contact working here and with his office Enjoying some immunity, i was able to get the package out to a safe location entirely Out of trouble spot.

Phew, trouble spots make me anxious.

he does not know the real contents of the package, and he believes that it belongs to a British American medical doctor who died in a raid here in Iraq, And before giving up, trusted me to hand over the package to his family in country.

Ummmm....giving up?

I have now found a very secured way of getting the package out of Iraq to you at home For you to pick up, and i will discuss this with you when i am sure that you are willing To assist me and that my money will be well secured in your hand.

Willing to assist? Of course, who would pass up this opportunity?!

I want you to tell me How much you will take from this money for the assistance you will give to me.

Sir, I must request all $5 million.

One Passionate appeal i will make to you is not to discuss this matter with anybody,if you have any reasons to reject this offer, please and please destroy this message as any Leakage of this information will be too bad for the u.s. soldier's here in Iraq.

Oh no, now I've done it. I've spilled evidence of a conspiracy amongst soldiers to loot Saddam's wealth and send it home via kind-hearted intermediaries. I hope Sgt. David B#### is okay. I'll be contacting him shortly to get this process started.

JTT said it best

2009-08-16T14:14:00.001+09:00

Oh, I just can't wait to go back.

Welcome home

2009-08-13T15:25:00.002+09:00

I write this as I'm up late listening to rain fall in Sarasota and thinking about the last two weeks.

I went to Seattle on a mission. You see, I'm cynical, you might even say jaded (who me??!?!?) and I had one last hope. Let me back up.

Traveling has taught me many things, and many of them have been positive, but one negative has been this new obsession with PLACE. When I go somewhere now I am constantly evaluating how it makes me feel. Some places make you feel terrible (Bangkok, rural Australia) while others are mediocre (Lansing, metro Detroit) and still others can actually uplift you just by their appearance (London, Melbourne). As a result, I have become a place elitist. I am not in a place where I quite want to settle in the US yet, but I think about these things. Yes, I think about things. Indeed.

But I could not find a place to settle here. I know it has to be a city. A real city, so that rules out anything in Michigan. New York is too bustling, but I do love it there. Chicago makes me really depressed, something about the way it looks. Colorado is too rural. Phoenix (never really an option) turned out to be very sprawled and not very city-ish. The point is, I was about to give up. Nothing had the pull of a place like London, or even of Seoul, a city that I love but know has major flaws. The Pacific Northwest held out like a beacon of hope for me, calling me to see.

Well, now that I've came and went, I'm sold. It succeeds in so many ways that every American city I've ever laid eyes on has failed that it would be impossible to list them all here but I'll give a few.

1. Neighborhoods.
Seattle has lots of great little neighborhoods. It was astonishing how many times you would find yourself in another little niche and think, wow, this is aesthetically pleasing and has restaurants/stores/bars I want to go to.
2. Nature.
The ocean is right there. The whole damn city is covered with trees. And 35 minutes drive away you can find mountains, rainforests and the filming locations of Twin Peaks.
3. Culture.
Ethnic restaurants ALL OVER. Asians on the street. Singing Korean-style karaoke. Young people with progressive views. And the people are weirdly polite and approachable too. Strangers are far more sociable than out East.
4. Feel.
It just feels good there. Looking up at the houses on the hills, or the tree lined streets I felt good. And I seriously have not felt that consistently good about a place since last March.

Does this place sound like paradise? Well, it basically is. Sure, it has some problems: no subway, slightly higher cost of living, lots of bums (but only downtown) etc. But when the time comes to move back to the US for an extended period of time, I think I've found a new home.

The summer of Chris

2009-07-30T01:41:00.002+09:00

My summer has been pre-scheduled and arranged to allow for maximum traveling. It has so far included a trip to Omaha, South Dakota, Chicago, Wisconsin and Phoenix. I am presently in Seattle. It seems like an opportune time to reflect on what has happened thus far.

Omaha was typical; and if that sounds negative, it is not meant to. I got to see my family and hang out a lot with my siblings, something I increasingly enjoy doing as they age like fine wines. I bought a drum set and played the shit out of it every day. I should have started that instrument years ago. I can see myself playing in some really rhythmically complex math rock band, which is what I guess I'm kind of playing in right now. We also took a trip to South Dakota, which sounds really boring to most of my audience I'm sure, but it's actually pretty cool. The western side of the state is a lot like Colorado: mountainous, coniferous and other -ous suffixed words. Although, it is decidedly trashier than Colorado's upper middle class demographic: bikers abound and the only places to eat are steakhouses, which made me a little ill most of the time. The state turned out to be an excellent destination for camping, but we did not have the proper equipment. My brothers and I made a film and edited it on my computer, which provided quite a bit of entertainment. The Omaha trip was made quite exciting by an impulsive move on my part, which was flying a friend (girlfriend?) out for a week. It was really nice to spend time with her and get to know her more, despite the time-limited nature of our relationship.

In Chicago, I got to see Gavin and go to the Pitchfork Music Festival. We saw lots of good bands (M83 was transcendent) and I met up with my friend Josh from Korea for the first time in over a year. I then drove to Wisconsin and stayed with Luke and Rachel, who have recently moved into the woods there. The isolation of the place was amazing and beautiful.

I spent a short stint in Lansing (2 days) and then flew to Phoenix to visit my friend Paul, who I hadn't seen in over 2 years. Phoenix was surprising: it is completely sprawled and all the cool/hip places Paul had to take me were often in what amounted to strip mall. It was of course, hot as hell (114 at the highest). But the most amazing part of the trip was driving up to Sedona. I was never a huge fan of desert landscapes, but this is the best kind of desert. Big, high red hills and lush desert vegetation. It was somewhat less hot, so we took a hike which afforded great views and spent some time sitting in a river. We also ate both lunch and dinner at this awesome organic/healthy/vegan/whatever restaurant which was truly delicious. In fact, I ate so healthy all weekend that I actually felt really good the whole time (until I had some Wendys at the airport). My flight was delayed and ultimately cancelled in Phoenix, but after a 4 hour wait, I got onto a different flight on a different airline and made it to Seattle at 11:00pm.

Richard and I rode the bus this morning and now I'm exploring downtown Seattle on my own while he works. So far, I've had too much coffee. The city is great and it definitely takes the prize was my favorite American city so far. I'm not sure why, but it makes me think of London, which somewhere along the line claimed first place in my mind in international cities. Perhaps when the time to settle down in the US comes along (if it ever does...) then Seattle will make a nice choice. But then again, I wanted to live in Melbourne on my first day there. I should slow down in my judgments.

Somewhat classically, a list

2009-06-06T02:29:00.002+09:00

For those of you that don't know, I am returning to Korea this fall. I am very excited about this, although slightly apprehensive given the current state of geopolitical affairs in that region. I haven't posted to this blog in a long time and I'm not sure what purpose it will serve when I get there (I hope not the one it often did last time). So for now, it will serve as a list to myself so I can remember the things I want to do.

Things I should do this time in Korea:
-Travel around Korea more.
-Do a Buddhist templestay.
-Eat more Japanese food.
-Try boshintang, or dog soup.
-Visit China.
-Study Korean more.
-Have more Korean conversations.
-Meet more Koreans, especially female ones.
-Spend more time with my friends.
-Ride my bike more.
-Explore Seoul more.
-Take advantage of socialized medicine by visiting every possible specialist.
-Try to write music and find somebody there to help me do this.
-Work less, but still make as much money.
-Force my dad to come visit me.
-Sing noraebang more.
-Go to a Korean beach.
-Climb Achasan (well any mountain really) as much as humanly possible.
-Convince Richard to come back.
-Plot where I will go next (in my heart I know it must be Japan).
-Stress less about my job not being similar to a US teaching job.
-Enjoy living in one of my favorite places on the planet again.

When I said I wanted to be your dog

2008-12-25T15:56:00.002+09:00

Our hero is wearing socks in bed. This is not something he usually considers acceptable, but his room is cold. The window overlooking his bed has old seals and cold air drips in like Sasquatch's breath. He will awake later in the night and probably take the socks off in a series of labored movements that leave him half outside of the covers.

Minds are racing. Time is racing. What is next for our hero? Why is he being so stagnant? What will become of him?

Minds sneak back to old times like villains sneaking over barbed wire fences. Barriers never stopped them before. There are many places in the world where you can go, but what happens when you leave? What is this feeling inside?

Our hero is stuck. There is a feeling that wells up in him; a feeling that he doesn't belong here anymore, that he could never belong here anymore. But if that's the case then he doesn't know where he belongs. It's like that feeling when you first come home from college and you realize your parents' house isn't really YOUR house anymore. It's like that, but with an entire country, with an entire culture.

Our hero did what he set out to do. Isn't there a switch that is supposed to be flipped? Isn't there a moment when everything all clicks? What if there isn't? Can our hero be okay with that? Can anyone?

The city of angels

2008-11-04T08:13:00.001+09:00

Fu--ing Quantas. I missed my connection, but I'm in LA. I get to MI at 1Am. This internet costs $1 for 4 minutes. Welcome to the US.

I know it's over

2008-11-02T16:55:00.002+09:00

There's a guitarist and he's playing Elton John's "Rocket Man." He's only playing sad songs. Two flies buzz around in the open air of the bar. My glass sweats onto my notebook.

I should be happy because I'm going home. I am happy that I'm going home. But there's an air of melancholy hanging around my departure like an old holy thrift store sweater that deteriorates in the wash. Now that I'm going back to the US, it's like I'm finally leaving Korea for real. I have to deal with these things all over again.

The guitarist is saying, "and I think it's gonna be a long, long time."

This is my last entry from outside the US. I'm already pondering when I'll leave again or if I'll be satisfied in the US again. I think about my family and friends and music and Korea and Japan and travelling and about growing up. I think most about that. What have I gained and what I have lost? Something tangible has changed, but I'm not sure what it all means.

And he keeps singing, "and I think it's gonna be a long, long time."

The list

2008-10-30T19:50:00.003+09:00

I thought maybe I should compile a list of my favorite places from the last year. Please note it only includes places I have actually been.

Best city to live in:
1. Seoul
Runner up. Melbourne

Best food:
1. Korea
Runner up. Cambodia

Best place to relax:
1. Thailand
Runner up. Australia

Most beautiful natural environment:
1. Michigan
Runner up. New Zealand

Best hiking:
1. New Zealand
Runner up. Michigan

Nicest people:
1. Korea
Runner up. New Zealand

Rudest people:
1. Australia
Runner up. USA

Best English speaking:
1. USA
Runner up. Australia

Best clothes shopping:
1. Korea
Runner up. USA

Best swimming:
1. Thailand
Runner up. USA

Most attractive girls:
1. Korea
Runner up. Cambodia
Runner-runner up. Melbourne

Best public transportation:
1. Seoul
Runner up. Melbourne
Pathetic loser: metro Detroit

Best music:
1. USA
Runner up. Nowhere I've been...

The road (less) traveled

2008-10-30T12:28:00.003+09:00

Two paths diverged in the wood, and I, I chose the one that cost an extra 98 dollars and 10 cents.

What I mean is that I was scheduled to fly home on November 13. But truthfully, I'm bored. Everything I want to do requires better use of my ankles and they still hurt a little (they're a lot better don't worry, but not up to caving or hiking all day). And so I moved my flight to November 3.

It's been a real question during my whole trip why I haven't been completely into traveling. All I can figure is that because I was away already for a year, my heart just wasn't in it. I left a place that I really loved (Korea) and people I loved there too and should have gone back to another place with people I love to mourn it. Instead, I sought refuge alone, on the road, and I guess the timing could not have been worse.

I'm being incredibly candid about this, I know. I have had a great time and seen amazing things. I have met some great people too, and learned a lot. I feel a little bad, like a kid leaving his friend's sleepover because he misses his blanket. But I know it's different than that. I know that in my heart the thought of getting out of New Zealand just excites the hell out of me. I am done in Oceania and have accomplished all I set out to do.

And it has made all the difference.

The Kepler Track, or the End of My Ankles

2008-10-26T17:31:00.002+09:00

I've just returned from the Kepler track, my first serious hike in New Zealand, and perhaps my life. My hiking history is one of giving up. Literally every trip I've ever taken has ended at least one day early. This is because I often get tired or miss my bed. This track was different because I would not have the luxury of quitting. I had to finish all 54 km.
The first day was boring, beautiful and painful. My pack was not adjusted correctly and caused sharp back and hip pain. My shoes aren't actual hiking boots and offer no ankle support. I went at the pace of an old turtle back and forth up the steep switchbacks on my way to the first hut. In NZ, the Department of Conservation supplies huts for hikers and tent use is limited. The end result feels more like a hostel, but is nice because you get to meet people and don't have to carry a tent or sleeping pad. I was in such pain that I pondered turning around the next day, my only chance to get out early before it was too late. Luckily, I met two absolutely solid guys from Scotland and Northern Ireland. We played cars and went caving the next morning (awesome). They fixed my pack and we hiked the rest of the trail together. Without them, I probably would have quit. They had amazingly similar senses of humor to me and one is in a band I would describe as being more than a little prog-rock-ish. A match made in Heaven.

The next day was easier and we saw mountain peaks and ridges and came down into dense rainforest. We finished the track two days ago, after four days of 6+ hours of hiking. I gained some unlikely life insights and it was utterly worth it. My feet finally gave in on the last day (lucky timing actually) and now I can barely walk two days later. I had to cancel a glacier tour for today because there was no way I was walking. The guys I met are actually continuing to hike up the entire Southern Island of NZ while I echo their route on bus, albeit at a much faster pace. The ultimate irony was when, after four days on the trail, I boarded a bus and circumscribed the same mountains we hiked around in only ten minutes.

Some girls are bigger than others

2008-10-20T08:13:00.002+09:00

I've taken on two pacts with myself since arriving in New Zealand. For one, don't use shampoo in my hair or cut it. 2. Grow a mustache. The unfortunate consequence of this is that I now have a mullet, and well, a mustache. I think I'm gonna shave it because I think it's costing me potential friends.
I really liked Dunedin and had to pull myself away from there. Considering I got sick, it would have been better to stay since they had a nice DVD room and nice people, too.
Instead, I rented a free car. Well, the car was kind of free. They want people to take cars from Dunedin to Queenstown, so they give you 24 hours to get it there. You pay for fuel. I opted to pay for extra $60 insurance given that I hadn't driven in over a year and never on the left side of the road. Of course, this was unnecessary, but hindsight is 20/20.

I drove south to the Catlins on a beautiful coastal road and found deserted beaches filled with some kind of kelp that looks like an alien octopus and feels squishy when you step on it. Disgusting. I got perilously close to rising tide waves as they pounded a rocky point. I saw penguins, for the second time. I got my own bedroom in a cabin on the beach, a rare lucky occurence. Had my cold not been starting, it would have been the best sleep I had in two months. I could have stayed in this idyllic spot for another day, but the deal dictated that I come back in 24 hours. So, I rushed up to Queenstown through Invercargill, feeling more ill. Queenstown is the "adventure" capital of NZ. Skiing is out of season and I don't bungy jump (that's for hippies-inside joke, ed.) so I knew this town wouldn't hold much for me. I did eat the legendary Fergburger and then left the next day, taking a bus to Te Anau. Te Anau is a lakeside small town that exists only to service the surrounding walking tracks and the famous Milford Sound which is somewhat nearby. It's kind of like Caseville meets Colorado and right now it is so dead. If I go to eat at a restaurant, I am often the only person there. DEPRESSING. I did take a boat cruise to the famous Milford Sound and have nursed myself back to health over the last three days. Today I awoke feeling about 95% healthy. I am ecstatic.

My reason for coming to this sleepy town was singular: the Kepler track. This alpine hiking track takes four days and I will start tomorrow, October 21. I will be back on October 25. Don't expect to hear anything from me until then. Don't worry, the avalanche risk was said to be very low.

Mmmmmm...Dunedin

2008-10-14T08:52:00.002+09:00

Dunedin is so much better than Christchurch it's appalling. This city has everything: historic buildings, massive hills in the distance covered with sheep pasture, beer brewery tours...I could go on. The hostel I am at is amazing. I think it is the nicest one I have ever seen with super modern everything and my room has a bay window that looks out on the city. If this was a house you would pay a lot of money for such a view. And I get it for $22 a night. Crazy. There are many nice people there too; it's laid back and not a party hostel at all. Perhaps best of all, it's called Hogwartz, as in Harry Potter.

Later today I will go on a wildlife viewing tour to see penguins, seals, sea lions and albatrosses. This area is apparently home to more random NZ wildlife than anywhere else. I'm really excited because tomorrow I'm going to the podiatrist to get some orthotics made. That sounds really stupid, but it's got me super pumped.

I also had the best Indian meal of my life today perhaps. It was sick.

New Zedland

2008-10-12T16:24:00.002+09:00

I've arrived in NZ. It feels different than Australia. The people are nicer, especially service workers. Much nicer actually. There are less Asians, too, although still enough to have a few Korean restaurants around town. The accents are different, Kiwis use most Australian slang but they destroy traditional English vowel sounds. For example, fish and chips becomes "fush and chups", cook becomes "cuck" and all short e sounds become "ee" sounds eg. bed=beed, already=alreedy etc etc. It sounds unintentionally hilarious. Also, and this actually goes for Canadians and Australians and I think Brits too, Z is not "zee" hear. Now, New Zealand is ZEEland, but if they say the alphabet, they say Zed instead of zee. I know this makes no sense whatsoever but it's pretty common around the world apparently.

Nature here is very different. I haven't seen much yet, especially the famous stuff, but I have seen mountains with snow and plateaus covered in sheep. In fact, the plateau-y middle of the South Island looks basically like Huron County: pine tree windbreaks between fields (although these aren't farms but rather pastures) and in the background you see massive alpine peaks looming. Okay, so not that much like Huron County but certainly more like it than Australia. NZ doesn't have all of Australia's weird indigenous plants like eucalyptus and what not. It's more like conifers and beech trees and stuff.

I skiied today at a place about 2 hours outside of Christchurch called Mt. Hutt. It was definitely better than Michigan skiing, but the runs were not as epic as I've heard Colorado's are. Still, I had to take multiple breaks before reaching the bottom because my legs hurt like hell. For some reason, my left little toe did not like the rented boots I was given and it felt like it was going to burst everytime I leaned into a carve, which happens roughly every few seconds when you're downhill skiing so you can see my problem. At first, the snow was just ice because it is the end of the season here and you can only ski above 1500 meters. I thought, this sucks. Then the sun came and warmed it up and it got quite excellent, but the dual pain I was feeling made me take many more breaks than I would have in Michigan. It also would have been nice to share it with somebody else. In other words, skiing alone is kinda boring.

Tomorrow I head to Dunedin and the real adventure begins. I've been collecting data from various NZ related sources (some Austrian/Kiwi guy I met on the chairlift and an old friend from high school who spent a year in Wellington) and the itinerary is forming. I will probably rent a car for a few days to travel into the rural areas in the south, then catch a bus up to Te Anau, a jumping off point for the famous Milford Track. This is a four day hike into Fiordland National Park that is considered the best in NZ in terms of views. Half of it is above the treeline. Unfortunately, there is major avalanche risk right now so I may not be allowed to do it. This would be incredibly disappointing. It goes on a day by day basis. Apparently, the Department of Conservation sent some people out last week only to send a helicopter to tell them to turn around 3 days later because an avalanche was blocking their way. I hope I'm allowed to do it and everything goes safely.

Cairns = Spring Break Cancun

2008-10-01T10:48:00.002+09:00

So, Cairns is a step-up from Darwin in appearance and places to go. I had a truly amazing experience on the Great Barrier Reef. I had no idea how beautiful it would be or how much you could see. I could have just laid my head down and breathed through my snorkel for hours (I did actually, although coldness and desire to urinate brought me up).

However, Cairns is still a pretty terrible place. It's basically the party destination of Australia (for both Aussies and travellers). This is completely not my scene. It's like in college when people went to really nasty bars (the Landshark) or frat parties. Every night you can find a place where there is a wet t-shirt or table-dancing contest. I'm not even exaggerating. Drunks yell on the streets and clubs pump crappy music until 3:00am. I will be glad to leave.

My next destination will be much more what I'm after. It's a small oceanside town that hosts an experimental music festival every year. I expect to meet people more like me and enjoy some artists that I've been trying to see unsuccessfully for two years in the US. After that, I go Sydney and then New Zealand on the 9th. I'm really excited for that.

Darwin = Hell

2008-09-27T18:52:00.001+09:00

Darwin is the worst town in Australia. I can't exactly explain what I hate about it, but I know I do.
For one, I'm alone here. That's probably the biggest part of it. Traveling alone is like everywhere you go there's a big party that you are not a part of. Everybody already seems to know each other and I don't generally approach strangers. Maybe I need to change that.

Additionally, Darwin just sucks. I haven't seen one person yet that has looked interesting to me. It's a lot of Australian frat guys and hippies with guitars. This is the reason I stopped living in Raft Hill. Maybe I just need to get in the traveler's mindset. Maybe I'm just lonely and nothing can change that. Either way, when I get the hell out of this town tomorrow at 6am, it can only be a positive thing.

Now I know how Joan of Arc felt

2008-09-24T16:06:00.002+09:00

The tour has taught me a lot about the transience of traveling alone. I'm not sure I like it. I found myself surprisingly sad yesterday when leaving my tour group and don't even get me started on leaving Hye Jin. I can't help but thinking a traveling partner would make it better.

I got into a routine on the 7 day tour: early rising, toast for breakfast, hiking, driving, lunch, driving, talking to British and Dutch girls, slaughtering my Korean to Hee Jae (aka Kim), talking to our walking library, chilled out tour guide Kev about the environment, racism and his life experiences, etc. Yesterday those things came to an end rather abruptly and I am once again alone. I flew to Darwin today and it's hot as hell (about 33C, up from 16C in Alice Springs which was cold for there). Tomorrow I will set out on another tour (only 3 days this time) to the rainforest. It is perhaps the knowledge that I will meet other interesting people again that keeps me going.

A week in dust

2008-09-24T15:53:00.003+09:00

I set off from Adelaide early Tuesday morning with a group I didn't know and a tour guide with long black hair dressed like a true Aussie. Little did I know some of these people would become my friends.
Our goal was to start up from Adelaide and drive to Alice Springs, a town in the center of the Australian desert. In the middle, we would see some classic sights, like Uluru and King's Canyon, sleeping under the stars most of the time, except for when we slept in an underground hostel in opal mining town Coober Pedy. The trip delivered, but I won't chronicle the whole story here because I think photos will do that better. I will explain the thoughts and feelings I had and the people I met.

1. I'm not sure I like desert landscapes. I saw pretty rock formations that reminded me of outer space (Uluru) and passed through rock covered wastelands extending my entire field of vision (the Oodanata Track). I also saw a lot of trees, which surprised us all; the Australian desert has many species of small trees (and large too). But ultimately, I found none of this as aesthetically pleasing as conifer-covered mountains like Colorado or rolling beech forests of Michigan. I guess it's what you grow up with.
2. Traveling alone is a little boring and lonely. Most importantly, you have no one to share your thoughts about the proceedings with. At the start of the tour, I was brimming over with the desire to gossip about observations of other tour members idiosyncrasies. It wasn't until I befriended two incredibly pleasant (lovely might be the best adjective, not in the romantic sense but just in a general way) Dutch girls. They were probably the saving grace of that trip for me, and we were able to criticize other tour members, especially one girl we dubbed "bush girl" because she had a habit of stealing dirt in bottles from the bush (off trail areas). She also garnered criticism from everyone else for her unhelpful attitude and ability to eat more food than every single man on tour (despite being small, although very athletic).
3. There aren't many Americans here. Everyone called me the token American, because there is usually only one on a tour, if not zero. I am quite exotic over here, and everyone wants to ask me all about American politics and lifestyles. I am probably not the best spokesperson for America considering that I'm pretty cynical and critical of life in my homeland and don't really fit the stereotypes of most Americans. But maybe that makes me the best spokesperson for America, because I am able to show these people that everything they've heard about overweight, fast-food loving, TV-obsessed non-traveling Americans might not be true. Either way, it makes me feel a little bit like a celebrity. And people kept being surprised that I was whining or being obnoxious. It's strange to see your culture through the eyes of others.

There was also a Korean on the tour, which was fun but mostly awkward. Like many Koreans, he had no confidence in his English and would not start talking to you unless you started first. Then it usually stopped quickly. He spoke okay English. I of course used Korean on him, but he always laughed everytime I said something. I'm not sure why. The funniest part is that he told everyone his name was Kim, but that of course is his last name. I think he thought his real name (Hee Jae) would be too hard for people to remember. I couldn't call him Kim though, that was ridiculous considering that there about probably about 8 million Kims in Korea.

The tour itself was excellent. Good food, a comfortable bus and sleeping under the starry sky in an Australian padded bed known as a swag. We arrived into Alice Springs yesterday, a strange oasis in the middle of the Outback which pretty much only exists for backpackers on their way to Uluru. Apparently we showed up after a massive wind and dust storm and there was no power at my hostel the first night. It was an interesting way to experience my first night back in civilization after 6 nights out. I was covered in a fine red dust the whole trip, which I finally washed from my clothes yesterday. As my trip goes on, I pick up dust and traveling companions everywhere, only to discard them at the next stop.

Alone?

2008-09-24T15:43:00.002+09:00

It's traveling moments like these that are really cool, although I'm not sure if they'll happen frequently to me in the coming weeks. I hope so. This blog is backdated to September 15, the day of my arrival to Adelaide.

I wake up from my nap determined to see all the sights of Adelaide before I have to depart the next day. What exactly I this entails, I'm not sure. I set out looking for a vegetarian restaurant I read about, but it appears to have gone out of business. I instead settle for one of the few open Asian restaurants and write my blog about salty food. I walk aimlessly through some important market barely seeing much of the small city. I stop at an internet cafe. I walk a little more down the road and find a pub that I hadn't even read about in the Lonely Planet (I later would, and it would vindicate my decision to go there). This is at about 3:30pm.
Now, in Melbourne, I had done my share of afternoon pub drinking with Hye Jin. One pint turns into 2, into 3 and soon you are napping on the side of the Yarra River under the 6pm sun. That was not my intent today. I wanted to see the city. I was just gonna stop in and get a pint, read my Lonely Planet and plan my next destination in the city.

The bar had great specials on Coopers, though, and I decided such a great deal warranted a 2nd pint. At this time, the bartender, a mid-20s, Australian version of my friend Paul Krauss (same hair, same nose, same dress). We struck up a conversation, and of course the conversation turned to music, as it often does between people dressed in similar fashions. This extended into another pint and joining him and his girlfriend for dinner. I had kangaroo for the first time (and not the last) and swapped stories about politics, music and the US. I have found already that my US citizenship makes me very interesting to other travelers, namely because I'm usually the only one they've met in Australia. We Americans just love sitting at home watching NASCAR and eating at Applebee's too much to bother traveling half way across the world it seems.

I later got a ride home from my two new acquaintances feeling better about Australians in general. They were friendly, cultured and interested in much of the same things I was. Additionally, they got me a deal on the dinner. I was disappointed I wasn't staying in Adelaide for more than a day, it would have been nice to hang out again with them. However, I worry that maybe this event, taking place so quickly after I left Hye Jin (literally the day I left) my skew my ideas about how easy it is to make new friends while traveling. From my experience on the tour (read about that above) I think it is pretty easy to meet people, however, this Australian Paul Krauss, with his love for Fleet Foxes and Grizzly Bear, might not pop up again for a while.

Still alive

2008-09-23T17:59:00.001+09:00

Just got back from a 7 day tour of the Outback. I ate a lot of red dust. More on that later.

Right now, I am busy planning flights and what not for the rest of my trip so I can't really do a decent job of this.

Hopefully, I'll be able to post something tomorrow.

Taxi accompaniment out of Melbourne

2008-09-15T14:51:00.002+09:00

Nobody on the road, nobody on the beach
I feel it in the air the summer's out of reach
Empty lake, empty streets, the sun goes down alone I'm drivin' by your house
Though I know you're not home

But I can see you
Your brown skin shinin' in the sun
You got your hair combed back and your sunglasses on, baby
And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong after the boys of summer have gone

I never will forget those nights I wonder if it was a dream
Remember how you made me crazy?
Remember how I made you scream?
Now I don't understand what's happened to our love, But babe I'm gonna get you back
I'm gonna show you what I'm made of

I can see you
Your brown skin shinin' in the sun
I see you walkin' real slow and you're smilin' at everyone
I can tell you my love for you will still be strong after the boys of summer have gone

Out on the road todayI saw a deadhead sticker on a Cadillac
A little voice inside my head said, "Don't look back. You can never look back."
I thought I knew what love was, what did I know?
Those days are gone forever
I should just let them go but

I can see you
Your brown skin shinin' in the sun
You got that top pulled down and that radio on baby
And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong after the boys of summer have gone
I can see you
Your brown skin shinin' in the sun
You got that hair slicked back and those wayfarers on, baby I can tell you my love for you will still be strong after the boys of summer have gone

It's just a little salt

2008-09-15T14:46:00.003+09:00

As I write this, I sit in an Indonesian restaurant in Adelaide listening to smooth jazz renditions of Boyz II Men and eating alone for the first time on my trip. But rather than dwell on that, I would like to take this chance to discuss the extreme saltiness of Australian restaurant cuisine. Not just Aussie food either, but all Asian varieties. I have a couple of hypotheses.

Conjecture #1 aka "Aussies like it salty"
Australians are somehow accustomed to very salty food, or like it, and so all restaurants just assume this fact and add lots of sodium to everything. I'm not kidding either, I am continually astonished by how salty virtually every meal is. I have a second hypothesis as well, perhaps more likely than this.

Conjecture #2 aka "A painful realization"
After a year's stay in Korea, I have become accustomed to less salt than used in the West. Perhaps this food is no different than in the US (my mind flashes to the salt-soaked cuisine of that American staple Chilis). This idea scares me because if it's true, than I once again become adjusted to said saltiness and won't even realize it. The cost to my arteries is what troubles me the most.

Leaving Melbourne

2008-09-15T14:40:00.003+09:00

And so it is that I leave Melbourne with a heavy heart-excited to be on to new things, sad to leave a person who is increasingly important to me and yet I have a very uncertain future with.

I had to take a $40 taxi this morning at 4:15am due to poor forsight. While I only paid $80 for the early flight on the budget airline, I didn't consider the fact that the trains from the suburbs don't start running until 5:00am and that this would not allot me enough to make it to the airport an hour before my 6:45 boarding (a requirement of said budget airline). I could have spent the $40 on another airline and enjoyed sleeping in and a leisurely train ride.

Adelaide, 7:35am. I arrive in the midst of a storm that luckily subsided long enough for us to land with only minor turbulance. After waiting 20 minutes for the airport shuttle, it starts to hail LITERALLY as I step outside to load my bags. I am summarily soaked. Adelaide is a small city kind of near the ocean, but due to my short time here I probably won't see it. I felt like a true Melbourne resident after living there for 2 weeks and knew where to go and how to get there. I will never know that feeling in this transient town.

I arrived at my very friendly hostel, waited for the people to vacate one of the bigger dorm rooms, went in at 10am, made my bed and slept until 1:00pm. I feel better now, but not sure what to do. I think after this I will continue wandering around town like I know what I'm doing.

My future

2008-09-10T13:21:00.002+09:00

Okay, so the promised itinerary for the next few weeks.
September 13-Leave Melbourne for Adelaide.
I'm not sure what Adelaide has to offer, I'm gonna research it soon. Mostly, it's just the starting off point for my next journey, a trip into the center of Australia and the Outback.
September 16-22: A seven day bus trip up through the Outback to Alice Springs
I'm really excited about this. It's a small group tour and you sleep outside under the stars in the sleeping back and get to see lots of the desert. I felt like i could not come here without doing something like this.
September 24-27: Darwin and the Kakadu National Park
Darwin is a town in the north of Australia, and is surrounded actually by a weird Australian version of the rainforest. The Kakadu National Park is the largest in Australia and very famous. It was recommended to me by my friend Adam who went there. It was the kinda thing of: "Adam, what is the one thing i have to see in Australia?" Instant response: Kakadu National Park.
September 28-October 1: Sydney
Sydney is obviously the largest city in Australia, although I am less interested in it than Melbourne because I've heard far better things about Melbourne. But, I have to see it, and besides its very close to my next destination via bus.
October 2-4: Newcastle
Newcastle isn't really anything from what I can tell. It's a small beach town about 35km from Sydney. However, part of me coming here has been to try to see some Western musicians that my life has been seriously lacking in Korea. Well, there is a small scale musical festival in Newcastle that will include two bands I have always wanted to see, The Microphones and Birchville Cat Motel. I am incredibly excited to see them.

After that, I will probably head back to Sydney to hitch a plane to New Zealand. I haven't started planning that aspect of the trip yet, but look forward to it as well. The freedom I feel here is unparalleled, I literally have no responsibility other than to ensure that i have a good trip and it feels amazing. I was concerned about money for a while, but it has proven not to be a big deal. For one, domestic flights are cheap. For two, the exchange rate is favorable. For three, I have stayed in Melbourne for free for two weeks. For four, this is probably the only time I will be in Australia so I'm telling myself to go crazy. And I am. And I am.

My past

2008-09-10T13:11:00.002+09:00

What a week so far. Starting last Sunday, Hye Jin and i went to see a footy match between the St. Kilda and Geelong. Footy is Australian Rules Football and its like a cross between American football and rugby. There are virtually no rules, you can pick up the ball if it falls, throw it, run it, kick it and beat the shit out of the guy next to you. The game was a blowout for Geelong (112 to 55) but neither of us decided we were fans. As you know, I hate pretty much all spectator sports, but I think the only one I can even tolerate is soccer.

Monday, we boarded an early morning bus for Halls Gap, a small town in the middle of the Grampians National Park, about 4 hours outside of Melbourne in the country. I got to see a lot of sheep and rolling hills. The countryside in Victoria looks kinda like Michigan, but more arid and the plants are all different. We took a hike without food or water and ran out of energy. We stayed in a guesthouse that was really homey and signed up for a $15 tour of the national park the next day. We were starving and for dinner i had my first Australian food since coming here, a burger and chips. It was pretty greasy and made me feel awful. I'll stick with the Asian food. Funny aside, I have eaten Korean food (either from a restaurant or cooked by Hye Jin at home) about 6 times since coming here. I had no idea how much I loved it until I left Korea. I've even been managing to get kimchi at least every other day.

Anyway, we joined this tour group the next day of about 7 people and a nice Australian guide. So nice in fact, that after we did the forest tour, he offered to take the two of us back to Melbourne with the rest of the group (who had paid for this service) for free. That was super helpful and even after giving him $20 we saved quite a bit on bus fare. Now, we're back in Melbourne and I'm in an internet cafe because her computer has like 50 viruses and the internet doesn't work very well.

Most importantly, I have planned out the rest of the Australian leg of my trip and it is going to be great. I was really stressing about what I was going to do here and how and for how much money and I've got it all figured out and I'm super psyched. The next blog I will post will be my itinerary.

A seaside village; exclamation point

2008-09-04T21:20:00.002+09:00

Melbourne is freezing. I knew that Janary is summer but it never added up that September should be the tail end of winter then. My mom took my winter coat back with her to the US and I'm packing two hoodies and some long sleeved shirts for warmth in what feels like a windy day in Michigan during March. The beginning part of March, you know the lion part and all.
Melbourne is amazing. It's truly international; I have heard more Chnese here than ever before and so far the only food I've eaten has come from Asia (scratch that, I had Italian for dinner today). The city is beautiful aesthetically too. It incorporates similarities from North American cities: it's suburbs smack of Omaha with their old brick homes and rolling hills. Its business distrct echoes Chicago, although larger and more ethnic. Its outlying boroughs remind me of Queen Street in Toronto but more affluent.
Transportation is simple. Trains take you to the suburbs and trams take you through the city. The whole thing is very sprawled, but surprisingly manageable probably because you only want t go to 1/25th of the city.
Hye Jin lives in a suburb that looks like East Lansing meets Omaha. The similarity is striking, except for all the Chinese people walking around. It seems like Australians share a similar dream of what constitutes happiness with Americans and many people here have achieved the single-family home with a car out front. But it works a little better here, considering you can take a train and all.
So far, there is much to enjoy, especially things I missed while I was in Korea. The beer is exceptional, and there are many microbrews to choose from, although strangely less than in Michigan. The Thai, Indian and Indonesian(??) food is all cheaper than in Korea. I can magically understand all the conversations I hear again and have taken to eavesdropping on everyone. I especially delight in listening to Asians speak English in an Australian accent. The city has a plethora of concerts, although most are local, with a few good acts showing up in October. I don't anticipate being here then. Lastly, it has been a pleasure learning more about Hye Jin, who due to her newfound English skills, converses more than before. Spending time with her has been really awesome.
Well, this weekend I hope to go to a concert, a footy match (Australian football), the Great Ocean Road and a nearby national park.

I lack a witty title

2008-09-02T11:46:00.001+09:00

I'm here in Melbourne. Not much to say yet, other than I'm in a suburb that bears a striking resemblance to, say, Rochester, Michigan. Wish I was kidding.

More updates soon to come.

The day of departure

2008-08-31T14:00:00.001+09:00

I will be boarding a flight to Melbourne in 6 hours. My feelings are a mixture of excitement, anxiety and sadness. More to follow once I'm there.

The loss of my computer

2008-08-19T00:28:00.003+09:00

Well, tonight marks the last time I will have steady access to a computer for a few months. My mom and cousin have been visiting this week (more on that later) and they will be taking my computer back to the US for me when they leave tomorrow. That means that while I am in Korea for the next two weeks and when I am in Australia and New Zealand the 2 months after that, I will be computerless. I will of course have access to the internet via Richard's computer (here) and internet cafes (there) but it won't be all plush and cozy look at me I'm on Facebook whenever I wanna be and doing Wikipedia searches and blog posts at 3 am kind of fun. So, be patient.

I owe quite a few people contacts (via email or Skype) and those contacts will still be coming soon, so worry not. It's been a busy week and now I will have some time to take care of business.

Land of smiles, land of contradictions, land of confusion

2008-08-07T21:51:00.004+09:00

We spent a couple more days in Chiang Mai. We rode elephants and saw "traditional hill tribe living" which consists of some huts with scooters under them and selling souvenirs to tourists. A more authentic tour would have required some more time that we just didn't have. That night, we went to a bar in an area of Chiang Mai I would grow to hate. As you may or may not know, Thailand has semi-legalized prostitution. It's actually illegal, but its super prevalent, only tempered by super rare crackdown periods. So, basically it's everywhere but you only notice it on certain streets near what are called "go-go bars." These bars feature women that call out to men on the street to come join them, and the rest is negotiable. This particular part of town was full of them and was on the way to the Night Market so we went through regardless. On the way back, we stopped for a drink in a bar that looked interesting enough. It didn't have tons of girls calling out so we thought it was a normal place. It had jenga. I forgot how cool that was.
Eventually, it became apparent that one of the staff members had a dual occupation. Not towards us, but she would call out the occasional flirtation to older Westerners that passed by. A man that we ate near in a completely different part of town came in and sat down with her. I could hear their conversation and it was utterly disturbing. Needless to say, they eventually went off somewhere else. I felt gross. We spoke with some of the other patrons in the bar and it was okay, but I was suddenly sickened by this feeling like everyone in the bar was trying to squeeze money out of us in the same way. I hated it. This night was not the only night that I would feel the contradictions imposed by a country that is thoroughly developed in many ways and yet near developing in many others. We left and I was glad.

The next day we visited some wats (Buddhist temples) in the area and I actually had a great time. We saw a completely different side of Chiang Mai, the wealthier, more developed (dare I say more Westernized...) side. I even felt rather awed in sight of Buddhists bowing before a god that never intended to be idolized in statue form. We ate that night at a food stall market, traveling from stand to stand just eating two dishes at each so we could experience as much as possible. I don't think we even ate as much as we should have. I went to sleep feeling much cleaner than the night before. Our flight back to Bangkok took us early in the morning and we caught a bus to Ko Samet, an island paradise only three hours south of the biggest metropolis in Southeast Asia.

We had heard Ko Samet would not be too crowded during the week, but the cynic in me didn't believe it. We got in and took a pick-up truck to the beach we heard was isolated. In many ways, it resembled every stereotype of a tropical island paradise I have ever read about or seen portrayed in movies. I was stunned. And it wasn't crowded. We proceeded to get our own bungalow on the beach, replete with hammock for about $20 a night. The island was amazing and hopefully the photos I have included below can do it some justice. I don't think a text-based description should.

In the end, that's the problem I have with this whole description. The trip itself was amazing, life-affirming and life-changing and depressing all at the same time. There were moments I desperately wanted to come back to something familiar and others that I never wanted to end.

We left Ko Samet after two days (sunburnt as hell; we used minimal sunscreen in the equatorial sun, morons) and came back to Bangkok for one more night. We went sight-seeing the next day and flew out late at night. I have just only now recovered my sleep patterns.

I am thankful to have had this opportunity to see what I saw and experience what I did. So many people will never, although I truly believe most could if they only wanted to. I know this writing and my pictures will never convey the filth and the joy and the shit and the beauty, but I'll try.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=26813&l=7f0eb&id=636624796

The joys of cheap internet access in developing countries

2008-07-27T21:02:00.002+09:00

I'm sitting amongst pot leaf decor and Bob Marley posters in some random internet cafe in Chiang Mai, Thailand. This is costing me about 50cents an hour. I can take my time.

We got to Bangkok yesterday night and I was promptly overwhelmed with the horizontally sprawled city and its overpopulation of drunk, annoying foreigners (at least on the street we were staying on). Unwilling to shop around for suitable accommodations, we settled on the first guest house we saw, Rainbow Guesthouse. Despite having a very friendly staff, the place was quite frankly a pit of despair. We had air conditioning, but the pillows were brown and the blanket was sparse. It was a freezing cold night huddled as close as I could get to Micah without him noticing, mostly just so he would share that tiny little towel of a blanket. I eventually turned the air off, which proved to be the best thing I ever did.

We caught a domestic flight to Chiang Mai today, a smaller city in the northernmost province of Thailand. It is quite different. It has a way more laidback feel, less dirty looking foreigner scum and is just all-around more manageable on foot etc. We found a much nicer guesthouse for a smaller sum of money (around $10 per night) and had an unbelievably delicious lunch of papaya salad, spring rolls, pork ginger curry and cheap Singha beer. Now, I'm sitting in this internet cafe pondering what it all means.

Tomorrow, we will head out into the nearby jungle mountains to visit some hill tribes (known locally as trekking) and apparently ride elephants. For some reason, I think that is going to be more embarrassing than anything else. Only time will tell. Tonight, we will feast on more food and visit the night market to look for assorted things we forgot (bathing suits, flip-flops, carry-on luggage). Our trip will eventually take us back through Bangkok to an island in the southern-ish part of Thailand called Ko Samet. There, you can rent a beach bungalow and spend all day listening to waves and seagulls while drinking delicious Thai beer on the beach slurping down seafood curries. In other words, I have a great week ahead of me.

Here's to another lucid dream...

2008-07-18T00:49:00.003+09:00

He charges down the stairs in to the sweltering heat. He has no desire to make this trip but he needs water desperately. He could melt the few ice cubes he has left over in a glass to produce that sacred drink, but this would take too long and taste of freezer burn and 4 month old melon popsicles that he never ate when he had the chance.

His Ipod blares his latest love as he bounds down the stairs in his old sandals and pseudo pajamas. Korean TV blares through the closed doors and the humidity sinks into his being. He turns the music up. He crosses under the parking garage and towards the convenience store, slipping the earbud out of his ear. He enters the store as the bell rings and the clerk greets him.

Bounding past the myriad snacks, noodles, kimbap and candy, he picks up the cheapest water (Sam Da Soo, you can kiss my ass you overpriced Jeju Island spring water nonsense give me that distilled Seoul water anyday) and brings it toward that counter with an awkward gait that says I can barely lift these 12 liters of liquid. He asks the clerk how much it costs and is relieved it only costs 3,900 won. He didn't go to the ATM when he should have and only has 4 dollars. That's tidy. It smells of soap and clean hair. He pays while some ajoshi buys two liters of Cass. Not tonight, it's time for bed.

He hefts the water with his right arm and heads up the elevator. The music has been put back in his ear and he focuses on his surroundings as the elevator purrs. This moment is everything he wants it to be and he realizes sadly that he will lose a lot when he leaves here. But he feels grateful to be losing something he has and not be mourning what he has already lost. It's a subtle change, but it feels substantial nonetheless.

A genuine cultural experience

2008-07-15T01:09:00.002+09:00

This Sunday, Micah and I joined two fellow Korean colleagues of ours (Brain and Chris-spelling intentional) for a bike ride. It was a long, arduous, hot (85 degree) 15 or km ride that made me feel euphoric and wonder why I don't ride more. We visited a museum at the end of it. Brain had told Micah that we were going to eat dalk doori tang (roughly: spicy chicken soup) at a restaurant by our house. We kept asking him where it was; Chris, the other Korean, kept laughing when we did. We felt like something was up. Brain told us that he asked his wife to cook and we would eat at his house. We responded nervously. A few minutes later, he revealed we would actually be eating at his mother's house. This was serious.
Micah and I study Korean almost everyday. We have learned a lot, but we still can barely hold a conversation. Additionally, Korean culture dictates that when speaking to elders, especially ones preparing a meal for you, you must speak in honorific language that we know very little of. Brain assured us it would not be a problem.

We arrived after another long ride back sweating profusely and entered the air conditioned apartment. It was very nice and large, like the ones you see on Korean TV but that none of my friends live in. Brain's 3 year old daughter, wife, sister and nephew were there. His nephew is 14 (12 Western age) and spoke some English to us. His wife spoke a little too. His mother said annyong haseyo and then apologized for not speaking English. We apologized back for not speaking Korean. This was the end of us understanding her pretty much.

The meal began after a few minutes and then ladies had already eaten; it was just us four men eating. At a restaurant, you often receive a few side dishes, maybe 5 or so as is Korean custom. At this meal, we received around 7 or 8 (kimchi, congnamul (bean sprouts), goju (hot pepper), eggplant, fried zucchini, acorn jelly and cold sour soup). They were all far better than anything I've eaten in a restaurant. The main dish was roasted hot pepper chicken and it was delicious with rice. It was by far one of the best meals I've had since I got here. It made me wish I had more opportunity to eat actual family food here. I told Brain's mom that "everything was delicious." If you say anything in Korean to Koreans, they will promptly respond with "hangukmal jal hashineyo" which means you speak Korean well. Of course this is a lie so you respond with "ani yeyo. jal mot haeyo" which means no, seriously I don't but thanks. The beauty of this is that they say that if you say anything outside of hello or goodbye so you can totally suck and it still works. The pathetic thing is that I wanted to say so much to her but couldn't because I felt nervous and I knew so little.

We proceeded to Brain's mother's roof, which was covered in grass. Yeah, that's right I said grass. He set up a tent and we drank beer and ate watermelon (again provided by his mother in it). Every language book I have studied (ok, only two) have said how Koreans will offer you food until you explode. My one experience has confirmed this. After we finished our first plate of chicken, it was promptly replaced with another which we could barely even touch. Full as we were (pebulo), we were given watermelon and peanuts within 45 minutes. Of course out of politeness we ate what we could. Brain's daughter joined us on the roof and made us laugh a lot. Sadly, Micah and I could barely gain the courage to try speaking to her, a 3 year old child. I did manage a few choice phrases such as "do you like this? what is this? and come here." She was adorable. At one moment she held a peanut up to my face and kept insisting I take it. When I finally did, she commanded in totally friendly language (meaning not what you would say to an adult or especially a stranger) for me to "moko" or eat. We all cracked up. That only solidified my desire for a Korean daughter.

We stayed on the roof talking and enjoying the grass until the mosquitoes drove us away. Micah and I went home feeling very content with our first experience of a Korean family. It was truly beautiful. I lament not trying it sooner.

I've been incredibly busy at work; I'm now tutoring two fifth graders three days a week and filling the other days with trips to the dentist. My trip to Thailand is coming in two weeks, which I am very excited for. Traveling is so great.

As my time here comes to a close, I am feeling more and more like I'm going to miss it greatly. This experience has been great and my way of life here has become routine; getting out of it is going to be difficult.

You know what I mean

2008-07-06T03:25:00.004+09:00

I thought maybe I would quit for a bit. But this feeling is too good, I have to capitalize on it. I have to exploit it for all its worth.

Tonight was amazing. It greatly illustrates the painful dichotomy I exist in here. I love so much about Korea; its people, its restaurants, its women, its culture, my friends here. And yet, I could never be happy here for long. There is so much to miss from America. But I remain aware of the fact that when I go back I may never be satisfied in my own home again. It seems traveling makes you all too painfully aware of your dissatisfaction with your own culture. Awareness is a horrible thing; ignorance might be worse. It's like that Winston Churchill quote, "Democracy is the worst form of government, except for everything else." That's how I feel, except I think that there are other forms of government that are better.

I thought I might not write another of these. It's so pointless and depressing. But this isn't a sad feeling, it's an exhilarating feeling. I'm going to travel again. I'm going to Australia. I'm not sure why.

Some people said the only thing there for me was disappointment, and I internalized that thought too. I began to question myself. Other people said even if heartbreak awaited me, I should still go, just for the sake of going. I realized I can listen to neither of these.

Ultimately, I have to go because I want to go. Because an immense desire is welling up inside of me that is unquenchable but by these means and it must be extinguished. I will put it out if it takes every part of me.

And every part of me is shaking with the excitement and the anticipation. It is the realization that I truly want to go that makes it so exciting. I have evaluated it like I evaluate everything (too much). And I still want to do it. It is irrational, illogical and impractical. But that doesn't make me want to forget it. Maybe I need to side with my id this time around.

She asked me what I wanted. She told me that she wanted to ask me the same thing.

Today, Micah and I tried to talk to some girls at the hookah bar. It was a disaster. I didn't even like them, but they made us question our own worth. That is some nerve they have.

She told me I might be bored.

I bought my plane ticket.

The Highlights, Vol.1; Straight Outta' Compton

2008-06-25T01:03:00.002+09:00

In an attempt to either stroke my own ego, or just try to remind myself that some of my writing is actually good sometimes, I wanted to collect some random quotes from blogs I have written since I came to Korea. Some of them are depressing, some funny and all of them are out of context. Oh, and lastly, I've arranged them in a loose narrative arc.

"Do you believe in aliens?" he asks. There's so much they don't know about each other.

The car spurs on, not noticing the thoughts in the boy's head. Cars tend not to notice much.

I remember we watched "The Empire Strikes Back."

We didn't know it yet, but time does not make things better. It just makes things more familiar.

How do I start? How do I intimate an idea that has been brewing within in me for years? An idea older than me? An idea based on the propagation of my very species? I must explain these things to her...

I grew up in a small town. Well, at least I was supposed to grow up in a small town.

We threw it all away, for a dime.

To me, place might be all we have. When you have a place, you have the past. You can go there and remind yourself that you can make new memories there again; you can be there again. When you don't have that place, all you have is memories. And memories are just white lies.

"The secret is to cook them on low heat, so they don't get dry and brown," he says, knowingly. "You want them to be..."
"Yellow," they say in unison. Kismet. Destiny. It's all led up to this point: yellow onions.

We saw each other for what we were: pathetic, incomplete and infatuated with ideals that didn't exist anymore.

I came here to find something I had only seen in pictures. Pictures are so beautiful. They tell you of a place that is so different, that is so novel; it is a place you only see in movies. I saw this place in other people's narratives, in other people's photos, in other people's movies. I am here now, and I don't see it.

My family healed, too, but we're not quite right. What if the way we were was the best way for us and we broke ourselves? We snapped off at the tip and went crooked and tried to fix ourselves with casts and pain medication and words and distance but in the end we are just broken, twisted, sprained people who will never be right again.

For once, I want to hold onto something forever.

We continued on to far off beaches and hidden coves and stinky rock formations and barren dunes and trees stretching across dead rocks. We reached into the universe.

He looked at her sleeping and felt a gaping absence where she should be in his life. The next day he spent a lot of money to make up for it.

Still, she remains a notch on his limited pole; a memory of a time when he truly felt alive, even if she couldn't meet him half way. That pole is a pathetic stump in the ground; it stands, half-dead, in the empty prairie waiting for a warm wind to blow.

In a life of failures, an almost-success has to count for something.

I pray that the next time I see them I can truly make them understand. I want to let them know that I am dead and I am alive and I can never thank them enough. I can never be as dead as I was, and I will never be so calloused again.

I'm not always such a whiner

2008-06-25T00:43:00.002+09:00

I have been planning a trip for when I am done in Korea and I am really excited about it. I never post blogs on the myriad days that I am happy so I thought I should post one to prove that I am not nearly the giant lump of overly nostalgic crap that I make myself out to be on here. Most of the time, I am pretty damned satisfied.

So next time you read that horrible thing I thought up at 3 am on a Thursday night, think of this and realize that I'm okay. Really.

(untitled 2)

2008-06-21T01:50:00.001+09:00

I am such a downer.

Oscoda, Harrisville, Alpena, P.H. Hoeft, Lake Muskallonge- I will never forget you

2008-06-21T01:11:00.003+09:00

"All I want in life's a little bit of love to take the pain away.
Getting strong today,
A giant step each day.
I've been told,
Only fools rush in.
But I, don't believe.
I don't believe-
I could still fall in love with you.
I will love you 'till I die,
And I will love you all the time."

I'm floating down a beautiful river, lined with trees and flowers and tropical mosses and maybe some lichens and a few orchids. I hear the hum of crickets and fish and assorted insects. The only other sound is the paddles splashing gently in the water and the sound of us moving forward in time and in place; we escape what we leave behind and we are all the worse for it.

Do you remember when we watched that movie? You laid next to me on my bed (it could have been a couch but I didn't make it like that). I nestled against your innocently (as a friend should) and secretly dreamed of you. I was so pathetic and sad and I needed you but you wouldn't have me then. Still, you were the first to prove to me that it was possible again. I hope that one day I see you again so I can tell you what this meant to me.

I heard you got married.

In a life of failures, an almost-success has to count for something.

We met again, my first year of college. I had to make a choice between my close friends and you and I barely chose you. We talked in a labored fashion and knew our time had passed. Your boyfriend pissed me off.

I saw you again, a year later, at your house and we tried to pretend we weren't different people. You were satisfied with your life, and I was a wreck. There was still a part of me that hoped you could fix me, like you did before. But this time, that ability lay only within me. I cant believe you were really satisfied. I can't believe anyone is really satisfied.

I wish I would have known I would never see you again. I wish I would have known how worthless a once mighty human connection could become, how meaningless a friendship could be and then I would have thrown it away sooner before it meant something, before I put my faith and my trust and my heart into you.

Every time I put my heart into something, I leave a piece of it behind. I'm worried that next time I won't have enough to break off.

I was so mistaken; forgive me

2008-06-14T04:39:00.003+09:00

It's 4:40 in the morning. I had to get out of there because I have so much to do tomorrow. A thousand white people singing in harmony trying to exercise demons they didn't even know were there. That's us. Richard takes his clothes off without even meaning to and it's my cue to leave. I pull a him and jet out of there, barely saying good bye.
What did we come here looking for?
In my mind, I see rock faces, spruce trees, mildly hilly landscapes, Taco Bells and music (everywhere music) and I question what it all was for...
But I remember my doubt, I remember what I used to feel. I came here because I was unsure. And for a long time I thought maybe I would always be unsure. But coming here taught me otherwise, and I found what I wanted. For a long time I wanted to pretend that I could never find it; because that would be more romantic, because that would be more artistic. But I found it. I know that is the trite thing to say. I know that is the least profound thing I could tell you. But I think I found what I was looking for.
Still, it's about time to go now. If I found it all, what am I waiting for? Didn't it leave for another country? Didn't it leave me here, alone, to contemplate exactly what I had found?
I'm laying in my bed, 4:46am and it all means nothing at all. It's like all I found was a dream.
I'm done with this stupid asinine depressing nonsense. I'm done with this bullshit. It doesn't mean anything. I'm satisfied, but I'm lost.
I'm done pretending it didn't mean anything, and I'm done pretending it did. I hope I find it again in the future, in another place, in another time, in another mindset. I hope I find her again, soon, so I can stop wishing.
And if I don't, I know that I'll be able to pretend long enough to forget.

The car drove...I told him about what I lost that year. I don't think he understood. I told him how much that album meant to me and he said he liked it too. But I'm not sure he understood. I told him that album told all there was to know about me, but I don't think it told me about him. We saw our pasts in the rear view mirror and I couldn't help but smash into the pathetic shopping center. We saw our families behind us, calling to us and never once knowing the horrible truth walling up inside us. We were so privileged that we actually cared too much.

"Rats and children follow me out of town. Rats and children follow me out of town. Come on kids."

I pray that the next time I see them I can truly make them understand. I want to let them know that I am dead and I am alive and I can never thank them enough. I can never be as dead as I was, and I will never be so calloused again.

It is our teeth that hold us back

2008-05-31T02:48:00.004+09:00

There was this time when I was just a kid. My cousins and I were sitting in the car in Bad Axe (it was a cherry ice Suburban that my dad was convinced was the ideal car for the family). My sister was in the dentist's office and it was taking longer than expected. We had appointments to get to later in the day and the radio was on via the battery; OMC's "How Bizarre" and Backstreet Boys played on the radio so we sang along ironically and pretended it wasn't important. I think maybe it was important, now. I made a joke that my sister had 5 cavities. I turned out to be right. She was so young. Sorry, Elizabeth. I swear, I didn't will it; it's just a coincidence.

We drove to the Upper Peninsula. He's from there, but it's still an event when you go there. Genesis played in our car and we celebrated time off from school and time off from work. We crossed the bridge and ate pasties; we drove across US-2 and up through Newberry into Munising. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had done this once before with my father (more than once actually) as we drove up Miner's Castle road towards the Chapel Beach trailhead. I had a lot of memories to relive and a lot of experiences to stage again and I wasn't going to miss out on any of them. Every trip I've taken since I was 16 is me trying to be 16 again.

We made camp early-ish that night. We made instant potatoes and bacon and parmesan cheese chunks. This was far better than anything my father and I made; but it lacked meaning. My dad and I always cooked towards something; something we had lost when I was young. This meal was delicious, but it didn't carry so much baggage. We finished up with gin and concentrated lime packets. We felt good.

We explored the rocks and precipices and dangling spruce trees and rock alcoves and we almost felt alive. Almost. On the rock face I said, "Ever wonder what would happen if you jumped? Maybe you would wake up."
"Wake up?" he responded.
"Nothing is real, right? So, if you jump off this cliff, you fall and then before you hit the water you wake up."
He looked at me with confusion. He probably thought I wasn't serious. I was.
"Yeah, it's like when you are driving in a car. You are completely removed from the road. You have music playing. You can't hear the wind. The car is moving and is an extension of your body. Nothing is real. Unless... you turn the wheel sharply and go into the ditch or into a tree, maybe then you will snap out of your trance and really be alive."
He processed this for a while, then returned a worried glance to me.
"No need to worry, I'm just thinking about this," I said. He probably should have worried.
We continued on to far off beaches and hidden coves and stinky rock formations and barren dunes and trees stretching across dead rocks. We reached into the universe.
We made our way back to camp and I listened to the wind blow. It had a real aching tone to it; a tone that reminded me of what I was running away from. I said good night to him in that wind and we fell asleep. I heard that wind in my dreams; sometimes, if I listen hard enough, I can still hear it. If I want to.

That night, I got up to use the bathroom and I saw a shadow moving deep in the wilderness. I wanted to chase after it, but I thought maybe I might get lost. I heard the call of an owl in the night. As I unzipped the tent, I chased the shadow into the night. Try as I did, I couldn't find what I was looking for. I barely found my way back to the tent, and I think a part of me is still out there searching the peninsular night for what I left in the woods. Alone now, I can only search with electricity for my soul. I think it's been swallowed up and sold for a pittance. I will forever blame them.

(untitled 1)

2008-05-29T02:09:00.001+09:00

Hey friends, I miss you.
Hey Michigan, I miss you.
Hey family, I miss you.
Hey love, I miss you.

The glove compartment isn't accurately named

2008-05-29T01:54:00.003+09:00

They went to see Death Cab for Cutie together one time.
Their new album had come out and it was really sappy. He loved the ballads, but when they went to see them she said she only liked the faster songs. He always liked ballads.
His friends were there, and after the show they all got to meet Ben Gibbard. He was nice, and not nearly as trite as his music makes him sound like he should be. One of his friends commented that he really liked the Postal Service. The nerve.
That night, he thought maybe things could work out between them, but they didn't.

The whole thing reeks of another time, a year earlier, when he bought Sigur Ros tickets for the both of them. He thought maybe if they drove all the way to Ohio together, they could find some common ground. He got sick a few days before and could barely get out of bed for a week. He had to call her and tell her it wouldn't work out. His cheap ass didn't even get reimbursed.
That night, he thought maybe things could work out between them, but they didn't.

(oh this is the same old shit isn't it? you pathetic stupid perpetually heartbroken child)

Another time, the two of them and his friend decided to go thrifting in Saginaw. It required driving to his friends house to stay the night. They had a campfire and they smelled like smoke and slept in their living room. He looked at her sleeping and felt a gaping absence where she should be in his life. The next day he spent a lot of money to make up for it. They had great conversation and made each other laugh, but that never seemed to be enough for her. It was definitely enough for him.

They went to a Radiohead concert once, all the way over in Wisconsin. He had almost given up on her, but he still had a little something hanging on; a memory of one year earlier when he first met her and told her in her parents' old SUV that he liked her. They took one car there, but she took a separate car back. They shared a Pop Tart in the parking lot while they waited for all those cars to leave and they were both so hungry (so was everybody) and they had sang the songs they grew up to together but it didn't matter.
That night was the last time he thought maybe things could work out between them, but they didn't.

Like everything else, they withered away. Their leaves that once almost entertwined grew further and further apart until they were in separate states. He doesn't really think of her and neither does she of he. Still, she remains a notch on his limited pole; a memory of a time when he truly felt alive, even if she couldn't meet him half way. That pole is a pathetic stump in the ground; it stands, half-dead, in the empty prairie waiting for a warm wind to blow.

Chauncey checks in

2008-05-18T23:59:00.008+09:00

You have to go a long time back for this to work. You see, it's a lack of updates that necessitates such a post as this. While I'm off ranting about feelings and other assorted bullshit, I may have forgotten why I created this unfortunate page in the first place: some kind of automated update device for people who might wish to know I am still alive. The problem is, it's not really that automated; it depends on me. So, I'm going to have to go back in time considerably. Forgive me.

Weekend of April 25-27, 2008:
Richard insisted we postpone lunch and head over to Olympic Park to witness the anti-China protests and the running of the Olympic torch as it came through Seoul. The papers said massive protests were planned. To be truthful, I find it pretty hard to get riled up about the whole anti-China protest thing. I get it, they suck and they hate freedom etc etc but I think there are a hell of lot more important things to worry about eg. the fact that our very own country is run by greedy selfish disgusting capitalists with no care for anything but their own personal gain and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it and democracy is an utter joke and the two-party system is morally corrupt and we drive too many cars and buy too many things and eat food that is shipped across the ocean so we can save 12 cents. So, you see, I find it hard to get excited about some other country treating a small mountain nation like crap, even if it does offend the morals. Regardless, I agreed and we found nothing like what we were expecting. We found a pro-China rally.
Certainly, there are a lot of Chinese in Korea (believe me, I heard them speaking that day). But ultimately, this was pathetic. While the entire world was turning out to protest, the little country that brought you fan death and kimchi preventing SARS has decided not to rock the boat at all and turns out thousands to just cheer on China. People wore shirts that said Tibet was and always will be a part of China. One Korean man tried chanting slogans about Tibet and was surrounded and booed until he was escorted out. The whole thing reeked of lost freedoms and sullied democracy. I believe that there were some sort of protesters there but they were turned away by the police before the festivities started. The whole thing was pathetic and I found myself incensed against the Chinese just because of the complete lack of anyone in this country that wants to question the status quo. Everywhere I look: politics, music (okay, only two realms) Koreans just like things how they are. They don't seem to want to look deeper. That being said, I did get to see the Olympic torch which is somewhat visible in this shot.

Weekend of May 2-4, 2008
This was the first extended weekend of two in a row. I had Monday off, so Hye Jin and I planned a mini-trip out of the city. I've been wanting to get away for a while, but this turned out to be not quite what I had in mind. I'm not sure I'll ever get what I'm looking for in this country, because there are just too many people. Anyway, we took a trip in her parents' car to the Garden of Morning Calm, located about an hour outside of Seoul. The trip ended up taking 3 hours, the last hour being spent on a 5km stretch of road that turned off to go to the Garden. We came seeking tranquility (the name is Morning Calm) and found Seoul on holiday. It was chaos, although it was beautiful. Hye Jin made a really great lunch (she is an excellent cook) and we walked around. She remarked when we left that we only spent 2.5 hours there and drove 3. Sad, yet true.

Week of May 9-11, 2008
This was my second extended weekend. Richard and I made a goal of seeking out some decent beer and American breakfast on Sunday night. We went to the rich part of Seoul, Apgujeong, where there is literally a BMW dealership or plastic surgery clinic at every step. They have an American breakfast restaurant there called Butterfingers. It's your basic greasy spoon, it was delicious and they had drip decaf coffee (SO RARE-first I've ever seen) and it was only $18 for the meal. Wait, did I just say $18?! Holy crap! Still, you can tell that these chaunceys enjoyed it.

Andrew then left us and we continued on to Platinum, a microbrew in Apgu. Wow. Pretty good for Korea, easily the best I've had. I had a cream stout and a brown ale that tasted like an IPA. We will be returning, for sure. And each mug was only $7. Ugh....
Sunday, Hye Jin and I went to a famous palace, Gyeongbokgung, which was pretty cool. I also go to walk by the Korean President's house.

Weekend of May 15-17, 2008
And thus, we arrive at the present. This weekend was not extended. Friday we had delicious dalk galbi and Saturday we celebrated a friend's birthday in a really large group that was mostly Korean. I went to the dentist on Saturday because I had some pain in my teeth and was hit with the fabulous news that I need 6 fillings and 3 crowns! I wish I could blame someone or something for this, so I will blame Korea. There is no fluoride in the water here and everything is laced with sugar. Also, some stuff got into my old fillings and maybe it was just time for them to die. Regardless, I'm looking at $1,000 worth of dental expenses. Korean medical insurance doesn't cover dental costs and I don't have American insurance to go home to, so this is as good as it gets. I'm not happy about the idea of multiple dentist visits and all that drilling and money spent but I'm trying to get used to the idea because there is nothing else I can do.

It is Hye Jin's last few days here, as she is moving to Australia for a year starting this Wednesday. This is a source of great sadness for me, but like my cavity ridden mouth, it is a future I just have to get used to.

I slipped away; I slipped away on a little white lie

2008-05-16T23:45:00.003+09:00

She is the standard by which I judge my life.
It's pathetic, I know.

One girl, one time, one place and that's it for the rest of your life. But it was the most feeling time in my life. It was the time when I was alive and if I'm never alive again I'll still have that time. I'll never be alive again.

Everywhere I go and everything I do, somewhere in my mind I am making comparisons. I hate her for that. Or maybe I love her for it.

For four years I knew I was unhappy because of her. For the last 5 months I knew I was happy because of her. It's kind of a love/hate thing we have going on. Nevermind that we haven't spoken since I was 18. That will be enough for the rest of my life.

For the longest time I have wanted to talk to her just to ask if she ever felt the same again. For a long time I thought I never could. Maybe I can-almost. I'll probably never get the chance to ask. But I know that for as long as I live I will continue to make those comparisons.

I measure my happiness and my sadness by her standard, and neither has measured up since.

Is this burning an eternal flame?

2008-05-14T01:01:00.006+09:00

Caro is a small town in the middle-ish of the thumb of Michigan. Depending on the route you take to Bad Axe (actually the route to Caseville is more relevent), you can drive through it. It's highlights are a Wal-Mart and a Dairy Queen. Somewhere in there you can find depressed teenagers and a kid in the middle of his adolescence. I went to a bowling alley there once that reminded me of the town I grew up in, a town that was stolen away from me by circumstance. I used to drive through there when I was young and I never thought about how that place would be taken from me, too. For once, I want to hold onto something forever.

"I watch you when you are sleeping, you belong to me
Do you feel the same? Or am I only dreaming?"

You're going to leave soon, in 7 days to be exact. One month ago it didn't feel that close. One week ago it didn't feel that close. Today, it feels close. As a friend once said, it might be a long time until you fully grasp what I mean when I write this. But, you will understand it one day. And it will hurt me even more when you do.

I didn't mean to fall in love with you. I was dead inside, literally. I wanted something different and I came 2,000 miles to have something different. But I found nothing, until I found you. You made me feel like I wasn't dead anymore; this is something words could never thank you enough for.
I told myself it was good you were leaving in May. I had no idea how wrong I was.

In 7 days you will be gone. There is a good chance I will never see you again. It makes sense: we had so little to talk about, but to me what we had meant something. Our limited exchanges amounted to something in my mind. I remember when I first tasted something you cooked for me or when I first smelled your hair (변태!) and I thought maybe I would want to see you in the future. I remember when I first touched your tiny wrists and kissed your small mouth and you told me in your cute voice that you believed in ghosts. Someday I won't remember these things anymore and I will only remember when you left.

I loved a girl once in college but she didn't love me back. This is like that but maybe it's worse. What is worse than love unreciprocated but circumstances that say f--k off?

"Everytime I pin down what I think I want, it slips away
The goal slips away."

I made plans in my mind with you. I made a future for us in my mind and I told people and I sent emails and I dreamed and I had to throw them all in the trash...

On Wednesday you told me you weren't sure. I knew somewhere in there that maybe we could never be sure. You have so much to experience. And I have so much more to talk about with someone. Even so, I would trade it all for you. But I don't think I'll get that chance.

We'll say our goodbyes and I'll give you your gifts and wish you luck. And I'll think of your plane taking off and you moving and living your life and me living mine and part of me is going to die. I know part of me will die. And God, I hope at least part of you will die, too.

Wash away what we create

2008-05-07T01:30:00.004+09:00

I heard my mom got in a car accident yesterday.

My dad and I got in a car accident when I was young. I was probably 4 and this asshole was driving some beat up car and hit us and there was some minor trauma and it was by the video store that was actually a drug store where my dad let me rent Nintendo games every weekend because he wanted to give me something my mom wouldn't and I rented Rambo the video game which turned out not to be good but he hid it in his desk in his office in the home my parents bought together but sold apart. The guy asked my dad and I if we were okay and we said yes. I tried to pretend I was worse than I was.

My mom came over to our house that night; the house they bought together but sold apart. She only came because I pretended I was more hurt than was real or maybe she came because she couldn't let us go yet. It never was her choice. I wanted my mom to stay and be with us again. I didn't understand that adults are more complicated than that. They feel pain and they hold grudges, unlike us kids.

My mom is doing okay; they put her on pain medication and she sounded a little loose when I talked to her.

My dad and I got better but our hearts stayed hurt.

I was pulled off a playground structure and punched a girl in the back and broke my arm and I cried until my mom took me out of school early and to the hospital. The doctor took x-rays and put a temporary cast on my arm until I got a real one that was neon green and had lots of signatures on it. It came off my arm when the doctor cut it down the middle. Everything comes off when you cut it down the middle.

My mom will be alright.

A horse stepped on my toe when I was at a Christian camp and I tried to lift it off of me and it was too heavy and finally it pulled its leg up and I pulled my foot out and the toe was permanently messed up but I never went to the doctor because I was too stubborn or maybe I didn't think it would be broken forever but now it's bent. It healed, but it's bent and it's not quite right.

My family healed, too, but we're not quite right. What if the way we were was the best way for us and we broke ourselves? We snapped off at the tip and went crooked and tried to fix ourselves with casts and pain medication and words and distance but in the end we are just broken, twisted, sprained people who will never be right again.

When I sleep at night, my spine curves a little to the left and my heart skips a beat every now and then. I know my mom will be alright, but I'm still wondering about the rest of us. Our family never did recover from that accident 20 years ago and we never will.

How soon is now?

2008-04-26T01:10:00.004+09:00

Maybe this is it.
Maybe I can't reclaim what I chose to let go. It's possible that I had to let it go forever. Can I accept that? I chose to move away, to find something new, to be somewhere different. I thought that was what I wanted. Maybe I only wanted a break: a break from stagnancy, from complacency, from what I had grown to accept. I came here to find something I had only seen in pictures. Pictures are so beautiful. They tell you of a place that is so different, that is so novel; it is a place you only see in movies. I saw this place in other people's narratives, in other people's photos, in other people's movies. I am here now, and I don't see it.

I see myself, a pathetic substitute for them, in their reality. My reality is different because I am in it. Whenever I am in something, it never measures up.

(we drive through the small town on our way home and everything is so fresh. natural gas machines pump wealth from the earth and fields grow navy beans while we fly forward and music plays behind (within) us. we have no idea, but we will never be more alive than right now. we fantasize about the future and the future is so close. we buy furniture for a life we will share and explore a town that we know is just a pleasant pastime.)

I came here to prove something. I came here because I couldn't stand the thought of me not coming here (as if that was a reason to do anything). I came here because I hadn't been happy for a long time. I had spent too long chasing something that I had in my hands that my family and I decided to throw away. We burnt it and spit on it and put out the fire with our disgust. The wind swept its ashes into my eyes and I cried to watch it. I have a feeling I will cry over it for a long time.

I wanted to find myself here. I wanted to find contentment here. I stepped off the plane and I slept through my jet lag and worked my ass off and moved apartments and found a new girl but it never added up. It will never add up. I always hated math.

Despite my best efforts, all I found was a ghost here. I can try to hide it. I call its name again and again and again but I never hear an answer. I'm still waiting.

We think the same things at the same time-we just can't do anything about it

2008-04-12T00:46:00.007+09:00

"We do the same when we make straw dogs to use in sacrifices. We dress them up and put them on the altar, but not because we love them. And when the ceremony is over, we throw them into the street, but not because we hate them."

It was the best summer of our lives. We met in the hobbit house; that tiny, cinder block shithole that leaked water and smelled of mildew with its tiny bathroom and dripping window that poured water onto your bed every time it rained. I went there, less than I wanted, but whenever I could, to be with you. I slept on your worthless couch chair that unfolded and put a lump in my back, but it was better than your cement floor.

We painstakingly set up everything we owned in your tiny little excuse for a living room and explored our subconsciouses. We weren't happy with what we discovered. One week we went to Crunchy's three meals in a row, a sort of record. We played sport outside while the soundtrack to Mega Man 2 and 3 blared through your speakers and we felt important and disconnected. We cooked cinnamon and apples on tin foil in your pathetic grill as you learned to love charcoal.

It was a summer of changes. You moved from our house for your last year and I floated in a state of limbo, not knowing what was coming yet feeling strangely comfortable with whatever it might be. I didn't care for my present course of action, so why fear a radical shift in it? We said goodnight after brushing our teeth and I put my used cotton ball into your toilet and you said I shouldn' do that because it wasn't good for the environment. I laughed at you but I knew what you meant and I agreed with you. I agree with you. I went through your kitchen cabinets like I was your best friend and I pretended what was in them was mine.

We laughed when the drugged-out asshole had a car run into his cottage. And we laughed when we rode into town on borrowed bikes. And we laughed when Randall discovered the tiny guitar with the funny paint job and we decided to take it into the woods. We laughed because we thought we had it all and we thought we were invincible and time was never going to keep moving forward. It had gone so long for all our lives so how the hell could it keep going? It had to stop, it had to leave us alone for once. I realize now this is what we have to live with, forever.

We dressed our summer up in pomp and circumstance and tried to accept it. We forgot about our pasts because we knew we loved them too much. We saw each other for what we were: pathetic, incomplete and infatuated with ideals that didn't exist anymore. We drowned our sorrow in expensive beer and cheap greasy pizza laced with blueberry flavors. We remembered sitting on the deck drinking, listening to Genesis and not worrying about grading students' papers or what time we had to wake up the next morning for interning at the state house of representatives.

We made our straw dogs in your courtyard but were too afraid to throw them into the dumpster. They haunt us to this day; they will haunt us forever.

Taco Sunday

2008-04-09T00:23:00.003+09:00

He tells her he wants to cook for her. He wants to be romantic. He read it in a book and he saw it on TV. When guys cook, girls love it. This will show her he really cares. This will show her that he saw that same TV show.
"What do you want?" she says.
"I'll think about it, you think too. We'll come up with something."
He needs to find something he can make, and something he can find the ingredients for over here in this backwards country. Everything he knows how to make doesn't really have meat in it. This won't do. He needs there to be a dead animal in it. He has it-tacos!
She's never eaten tacos. She had her first burrito a month ago with him: "I love cilantro," he gushed.
She wasn't impressed. In fact, she hated cilantro. He considers this a major personality flaw.

He sends her a text. "I know wat 2 make-tacos. You agree?"
She agrees.
She comes over and they rush to the store to get the ingredients. He makes a list because he loves lists and they help him organize his thoughts. He is his mother's son.
He worries maybe he won't be able to find everything, especially the ground beef. The store turns out to have everything (except spices) and it only costs him $25. $25 to show that he cares is a small price to pay, right?

They take the cab home and unload their goods in his apartment.
"Do you have a pan?" she asks. He laughs and admires her perfect use of a definite article. Ah, it's the little things in life.
They cook the onions first, which she has chopped up. After all, she's a certified cook, right? There are too many onions, a whole onion for one serving of taco meat? She says she likes onions; he throws them all in.
"The secret is to cook them on low heat, so they don't get dry and brown," he says, knowingly. "You want them to be..."
"Yellow," they say in unison. Kismet. Destiny. It's all led up to this point: yellow onions.

He adds the meat and spices and the whole thing browns surprisingly fast. The next thing he knows they're sitting at the low table on the floor with all the taco fixings surrounding them just like his mother used to make. He put tin foil over the meat to keep it warm (just like mom) and there's lettuce (sangchu), cheese (a pathetic simulacrum), salsa and even tortillas. It's a Christmas feast.
He teaches her how to roll her first taco. "You have to fold the bottom," he reveals.
He snaps a photo of her while she takes her first bite. She likes it. He thinks maybe there's too many onions.

They sit, after the meal, quiet and awkward on the sofa. It's too bad she doesn't like cilantro.

What price, redemption? What price, extinction?

2008-04-04T00:56:00.005+09:00

I played that song again, the one that made me cry, and I kept driving.
"Red wine and sleeping pills,
Help me get back to your arms..."

It won't be enough, to drive the roads again. But that won't stop me, I'll drive them again. And again.

It's all gone, now. They sold it all for some pathetic amount. They sold our memories and our history for a f---ing dollar. My family has no sense of place.

To me, place might be all we have. When you have a place, you have the past. You can go there and remind yourself that you can make new memories there again; you can be there again. When you don't have that place, all you have is memories. And memories are just white lies.

They sold it all, piecemeal, until I was left with nothing. And they were left with nothing, too, but they don't care.

So, I'll drive the roads. I'll drive them again in a different car but I'll play the same music and I'll open the window and put my head out and I'll try so damn hard to be THERE again. I know this is impossible.

I told them to buy a house with a second floor, but nobody listens to a 9 year old.
I told them to give it another chance for me, but nobody listens to a 19 year old.
I told her she was throwing away my childhood, but nobody listens to an adult.

I am alone now. I've watched the places I grew up dismantled and taken away. I've watched the places I came of age handed over to other families to do with as they please. I've watched my very essence stripped of me and traded like some outdated commodity whose only value is a worthless dollar on the foreign exchange market or securities exchange.

I'll drive the roads again. I'll feel the same again. I'll walk the same paths and same beaches and same unkempt poorly paved roads that can't be skated on until I'm blistered. I'll play those songs again and pass:
the curve in the road
the house in the woods
the road I went down when there was a detour
the high school I never knew was there
the town my dad hated
the endless fields (navy beans?)
the gas station we stopped at that was shit
the only four way stop on the way there
the place I got pulled over
the BP we used to ride our bikes to
the gas station that also was a greenhouse
the town that was named after a bird
the hotel we used to go to
the McDonalds we met at
the Goodwill where I bought that track jacket
the place where I grew up
the mundane
the life-changing

We threw it all away, for a dime.

The willowless yard on a willowless street in the willowless town

2008-04-02T01:41:00.003+09:00

I grew up in a small town. Well, at least I was supposed to grow up in a small town.
I was supposed to grow up in a 3-bedroom home with a playroom (stupid spoiled rich kid) and neighbors whose houses I could walk to and a rural small town school with old but competent female teachers with their hair in a bun and a town I could reach on bike or on foot and one movie theater showing two month old films and a drug store and two movie stores and only one fast food restaurant that wasn't even popular anyway. But life is never ideal.

Instead, I grew up split between two homes, and unequally so at that, so that i lived divided between two polar opposites: a suburban apartment and a rural rented home.
Our house was white with green shag carpet that looked like grass on a good day. The walls were yellow and the kitchen was olive green to match the carpet. Four bedrooms had no purpose so one room was dedicated to the storage of excess garbage and another was given over to the spoiled sulking son of two divorced parents both looking for a way into his heart.

My room had a basketball hoop on the door and the air of charity in it. My dad once told me if a story about a boy who picked his nose so much that when he awoke the next morning he was surrounded by discarded boogers and couldn't get out of his room. When I think of this story I think of my room and its wood floors and cold, distant twin bed with green comforter (always a green comforter, you stubborn fool), and I think of the utter nonsense of his tale, too.
I would awake at 6:30 every morning to play Nintendo in my solitary playroom (spoiled incompetent brat) and enjoy my father's company in the early morning light. I wanted to impress him by waking early like he did; even if all I did was play video games, a pursuit he could never understand or appreciate.
We had a birthday party for me and I had my friends over and we watched an R rated action movie and I didn't understand what that meant until I was older. I was at most 7 years old.
For dinner, we worked with a limited palette that usually meant macaroni and cheese, hot dogs or fish sticks for myself and always a salad for my father in that large wooden bowl with the same dressing and ingredients every night. I admired his stoic consistency which I now see was at least mildly influenced by laziness as well as admiration for his surprisingly healthy choice.
I crawled on the green shag carpet and I played in the back yard and I worked so damn hard to forget everything that was inside of me and breaking my heart, like all kids my age.

I came in once to the storage room (that stupid superfluous waste of of lumber and construction, that vestigial tailbone of a room) where my dad was working out. There was a machine you could sit on and kind of pull on a pulley and it resisted you and you slid back on a chair. I used to play with cars on that machine. I set up all my cars and rode the machine back and forth (just wanting to be near him) until he was done. We got up together.
He tucked me into that lonely bed, where I slept and dreamt of a past I lost and a future I could never have. And while I did, he was alone in the next room, and I like to think he was dreaming, too.

This thing between us is a rickety bridge of impossible crossing

2008-03-21T02:14:00.004+09:00

Blue-green autumn. Trees shine and leaves crackle underfoot. Snow hints at possibility and birds sing of days past and days to come.
I walk these paths that I always walk; I tread ground that I might have tread last year, last month, last lifetime.
I want her to look at me. We all walk, one large group; laughing, singing, talking, cheering. We walk towards the apples and past the trees along the creek and the fence, that ever present fence-reminding us that we aren't that far from what we left behind. Reminding us that we can never be that far from what we left behind.

(we played a game at the old historical village and i ran through your hands clasped tight with another and you let them go loose for me because you wanted me to go there and knew I couldn't go to anybody else's hands, no, it was always yours)

She talks to other people: my friends, her friends, boys, girls, whatever. I want to share myself with her but I'm not sure how to do it. My attempts seem so misguided. I asked her out one time when we sat next to each other during music class and she told me no so I pretended that I wasn't really serious but I was and she knew I was and it was all a waste. Once you do it once you can't do it again for a while or they'll know it's all fake. I know it's fake, too-somewhere.
I move closer to her in the line of kids stretching as far forward and backward as I can see.
My hand searches for hers in a movement that is a primitive as it is pathetic.
How do I start? How do I intimate an idea that has been brewing within in me for years? An idea older than me? An idea based on the propagation of my very species? I must explain these things to her...
The creek is flowing next to us, loud and unceasing. Why doesn't the water stop flowing? Stop!!! I can barely think. My palms are sweating and my eyes are dry.
My friend (unlikely) comes from behind me and makes a joke, winning her temporarily. It's enough. My confidence is blown. I sulk back (oh, I can sulk!) and I forget my successes. I focus on my failures: so numerous, so pounding, so encompassing. Her and I, we could have moved mountains, but now we'll never know.
(we flew on the that plane and you played games with him and talked to somebody else with him and I sat alone with my dad and you didn't care you never said you cared and I knew that I wasn't going to be with you but I couldn't stop wishing WISH WISH WISH WISH WISH oh god you broke my heart again WHY why can't i remember to forget you)
I think back to the time when I asked you and you said no. This time I'm going to remember to say no.

An actual account of something that happened to me

2008-03-17T01:31:00.004+09:00

My blogs have gotten rather prose-y lately. I've been thinking about the past lately, in a really strange way that I don't usually do. Meaning, usually, I just lament the loss of the past but lately I seem more interested in pondering it in a written sense; exploiting it for its symbolism, its meaning, its hidden depths. I've been thinking a lot lately about (in no particular order) growing up, the dissolution of relationships, the start of new relationships, old loves, new loves, growing up, family, friends, locations and this one time I went to see Titanic. Sorry if you don't find this entertaining, interesting, meaningful, worthwhile, etc. but I do think it's probably a more healthy way to explore my past than my usual attempts.
So, this blog is meant to be a "real" one about something I actually did today.

I went on a picnic. I'm not sure if I've ever been on a picnic, but I've seen enough of them in movies to know they are really romantic, suave things to suggest to a girl. So, I suggested it, and you guessed it-I appeared suave and romantic.
It was really nice. It was actually my first time in Olympic Park, which is very nearby and a really nice place. Its huge and I felt the most alone I've ever felt in Korea there. I could see people, but they were far away. We sat on a park bench and drank wine and ate cheese and strawberries under a blanket, kind of akin to invalids or the elderly. I didn't care. A family was nearby us with this one kid who was really violating our personal space, collecting sticks near my feet and threatening to overturn our bottle of wine. He was dressed in this strange uniform with a striped tie and I took to calling him Harry Potter, much to the delight of Hye Jin (he was there a while, seriously). When he did finally knock over our beverages (luckily, I had put the cork back in) his family starting talking in drawn-out English, trying to get him to say "sorrr-rrrrryy" in English to me. He just looked up frightened as hell. So, even though I should have replied in my best Korean "konchana (it's okay, don't worry, etc)" my mind blanked and I found myself saying in the same slow tone "It's ooooo-kaaaayyy" His family (about 10 adults total) laughed heartily and they all left. I felt like the life of the party for a short moment.
We left too eventually. The experience was a memorable one and one I will probably try to recreate unsuccessfully many times again.

My heart will go on

2008-03-15T01:04:00.006+09:00

This feeling will probably last forever.
She has brown hair, short, to her shoulders. It's cute, perhaps a little masculine in a strange way, but cute. I owe it all to him; he's the one who first made us kiss.
It was a Christmas party at my house. We were so young and so inexperienced and he made us kiss. He dared us to go in the closet and kiss (the scandal!). I thought maybe it would be nothing but we went in there and our lips moved in the dark and time stood still and we kissed in the shadows of that closet next to the vacuum and the fold-up chairs and the table and the hanging light bulb switch. I relived that moment for a full week on my couch moving my lips to an unseen face and remembering what it was like to feel something for the first time.
The next week it was still our break from school and we planned another party. Why did he do that for me? He helped me, without benefit for himself; he helped me set up the speakers. We had six speakers total, and we tested the setup with some Puff Daddy songs. Puff Daddy was cool. 14 year olds don't have a sense of irony.
We had a party again and we played the same game again. In my dad's basement, on the flowery couch, surrounded by the same people we didn't waste any time. There was no delay, no reason to delay, we knew what we both wanted yet we still let others decide for us. He made the request again and we fulfilled it. We had to play along with the game so we kissed again.
Was this time better? It was the same, but it lasted longer. We didn't know it yet, but time does not make things better. It just makes things more familiar.
We talked on the phone for the next couple of weeks, waiting for our chance to be together again.
We met again at somebody's house, a rushed encounter. Other people milled about and we barely spoke. Our minds were filled with other thoughts and our bodies were compelled towards each other to do that which we knew was right between us. We kissed again quickly and felt renewed; it was all that really mattered between us.
I went home feeling clean and new.
Time passed again and we didn't see each other for a few weeks.
When we met again it was at the movie theater. Our friends were with us, because they had to be. We could not find pretense to meet alone yet. We watched a film because it was popular and we didn't know what else to do.
The film was not bad, but our love had soured. Maybe not our love, but our time had passed. When you are young, time is short and connections are shorter. We watched others on screen who had more: who had looks, who had time, who had enough. We had none of this. We kissed again, but it was not what it was the first night. I remember that I looked at the girl next to you and I thought about her and felt bad about you.

I went home that night and I forgot about you.

Three weeks later we talked on the phone; labored, unnecessary and broken. Our connection had been lost and we both knew it. We were young and we didn't need each other anymore. Neither wanted to admit it, but neither wanted to keep it the same. Our hearts broke at the same time they grew apart.

The towering towers, the bristling bristles

2008-03-14T02:02:00.007+09:00

Janet Jackson is on the TV talking about politics.
She is going on about some issue, some THING, but he doesn't hear her anyway.
His mind is somewhere else.
They walk, hand in hand (what else?!?!?) across the busy street.
This is his attempt at being spontaneous. He isn't naturally spontaneous, but he heard in a movie that it's good to be.
They are followed by people, giggling.
"That's the girl from the bar," he says. "The waitress."
"Who?" she asks, looking back.
"You know, from the bar."
"Oh," she says.
"It's like we live here. We just walk right in."
They walk through the gate and he tries to find a suitable song for this moment.
Inside is pretty much how he imagined. It's like a miniature city. Small family stores on the left, towering buildings on the right, everything interspersed with trees. This is the most trees he's seen in a long time.
"This is kind of like Michigan," he starts.
"Because so many trees?" she finishes (is he that predictable???).
"Yes," he says.
They continue to walk, around a bend in the sidewalk. The size of this place is unimaginable. They pass an older couple, also hand in hand, walking by with smiles on their faces.
"That's nice," she says.
He agrees aloud.
"I like to think that maybe that could be me someday." He's relieved; he wanted her to say that.
"It makes you think that maybe those feelings could last, even after so many years," he responds. Now he sounds cynical.
Silence, but its better that way. He strains to hear. Isn't there a city behind them? Aren't cars flying by just behind them? Aren't their pasts right there, just behind them?
Up the hill, past the kids at the elementary school.
"Do they even have time for that?" he remarks. "It seems like everyone is so busy." Aren't we all so busy?
Up the hill, past the cars on the road.
"Isn't this place big?" she remarks. "It seems so large." Isn't everything so large once you step inside it?
Around the bend, into the middle of a few buildings, heading back the way they came.
They pass trash heaps and wasted sofas and cardboard to be recycled and styrofoam boxes from Baskin-Robbins cakes, victims of some holiday long forgotten; dry ice dissolved on grass that was never really there.
He sees a playground in the middle of three buildings, some kind of personal oasis.
"Do you like to swing?" he asks. This is serious.
She smiles that smile he knows means yes before she can respond.
They walk, hand in hand, (what else?!?!?!) to the playground.

It's more beautiful than either of them thought.

They swing, even though their hands can't reach anymore and the seats are too small. She really is incredibly short. He remembers the time she did the dishes even though he didn't want her to and he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. He feels like a giant. She giggles at the way his feet are bent awkwardly to avoid hitting the compacted dirt beneath him.
"Do you believe in aliens?" he asks. There's so much they don't know about each other.
She parses the statement slowly. "No," she says with a smirk. "Do you?"
"I think it's possible." He explains the number of suns, planets, solar systems and such. He can't use the word probability, although he wants to. She is not convinced.
"I believe in ghosts, though," she says, trying to comfort him.
"Ghosts?!" He's incredulous now.
They both look up at the sky. He tilts back in his swing. There's so much he wants to say to her, but it's not time for them to share it all yet. Neither of them could say what they need to say. He has learned this lesson slowly, reluctantly.
They leave the playground. He wants to tell her about his childhood and hear about hers. He wants her to know how much he misses it. She probably wants the same. These words cannot be said, yet.
The night is dark, and warm.
"It smells like spring," she says.
"It does," he says, knowingly.
He clasps her hand tightly as they walk away.

They heard the wind behind them; they kept walking regardless

2008-03-08T02:59:00.004+09:00

The scenery rolls by.
Trees interspersed with fast patches of water and sunlight on the right. On the left, cars and million dollar homes whiz by as they drive over hill after hill of memories. It's the summer and a lot has changed for them. They are older now, and that has to mean something, right? Both older, both having to face that feelings aren't the same feelings anymore and life isn't the same life anymore. For him at least, this summer hasn't been like the last and probably not for her either. But part of what he's feeling is that he doesn't know her feelings anymore. That's part of the change they both know. Living together for so long gives a sense of symbiosis, of connection-moving on meant letting go of that. Not that either of them ever said "okay, let's do that." Not that either of them would ever want to say that.
The scenery rolls by.
"I think I wanna get enough bottles to fill a small rack, " she says. He chuckles in his semi-condescending way, not really meaning to be, but it's in his nature. He doesn't get that from her, anyway, but he hopes his actions don't remind her of where it did come from.
"That sounds expensive."
"Probably."
He doubts she'll really go through with it. Maybe a bottle or two, but not a lot. They are too alike. He can anticipate her moves as well as she can his. They pull off at the first stop. It looks like an old church that has been converted. It could have been a schoolhouse. He thinks it strange that those two things should be so similar. Inside, a few people mill about with the same goal in mind: redemption, reconstruction, reconciliation. A bird calls from outside.
Apparently, you can get 6 1-ounce samples for free.
"Shit," he says. "Really? That seems like a lot."
They take their samples; she takes less because she has to drive. She buys three bottles, even one that she thinks he will like. She goes out of her way to get his opinion. He likes that, even though they both know he won't be around for a while to enjoy it.
They get in the car with a feeling of possibility, maybe even excitement. The wind blows hard on his skin.
The next place is more traditional. It's trying to be a villa; even though it's in the wrong climate, in the wrong region, in the wrong country. He laughs to himself quietly.
The same rules apply here. Six samples are allowed. He, again, takes all six, but she holds back to only five. She thinks this makes a difference. They talk about it with the man like they know what they are saying, commenting on what's dry or sweet, with fruit overtones and flowery aftertastes. The humor of it is starting to be lost on them as they drink more. She buys two more bottles from the man, even more convinced that she may be able to fill a rack. She asks for a box to carry it in. Ever the gentleman, he carries it out to the car and puts it in the trunk. He remembers being young.
It's so hard not to remember, not to be reminded of days past. So much passes between two people, so much that is forgotten, skipped over, glossed over and unnoticed because that would be the harder thing to do, that would take effort, that would take standing up and saying "this is what we are right now and we have to be in this moment right now or we will never be in any moment." Maybe they never were in any moment.
The car spurs on, not noticing the thoughts in the boy's head. Cars tend not to notice much.

The third stop is even better. The boy is feeling warm now; he's trying to calculate how many ounces he's had total. She's probably trying to calculate this too, though the boy is not sure; maybe she's just focusing on driving at this moment. He has a brief moment where he realizes she is fallible too. He wonders why that thought is so foreign.
This place is too classy, too upscale. She buys a few more bottles and the boy can't help but think the aesthetic of the place coerced her into it. They have some pretzels which remind him of drinking beer. The woman behind the counter is attractive and the boy remembers his loneliness. In the car, he waxes poetic about his nostalgia that never goes away, his memories that can't be put to sleep. She listens compassionately-her training cannot be turned off that easily-but she cannot help him, nor him her. This is a pain they must bear on their own, like all pains. The car starts again, the engine's turning inevitable and grating.
The scenery rolls by.
The trip is pretty much done. The boy feels good now and figures she does too, but he can't quite be sure. She would not want to admit so at this point, so as not to shake his ease of mind or for the fear that he might realize she is as human as he is. This is a line they don't wish to cross. The boy feels sad that the trip is almost over as they head back the way they came, but spots a sign indicating one last detour. They both agree readily to one last stop and pull off on a side road. For the first time they are in uncharted territory, but it's short-lived. They rest at their last destination and the boy finishes his samples quickly. The warmth is really going through him now. She buys another bottle; she has filled a box of 12. He chuckles one last time; after all, he can't help it, it's in his nature.
There's some cheese for sale in this outlet, but that doesn't matter.
They approach the car for the last time, surveying the scenery from outside the vehicle. The sky is clear and sunny, the wind crisp and cooling. His mind wanders back to a time when he came here with her and some of his family. They stayed at a home that wasn't theirs' on the water. He went out on the rocky beach and he felt the cool water washing over his toes. He stared into the horizon and he felt. That was enough, then, to feel. They shared everything and there was nothing to worry about.
The slam of the car door brings him back into reality-reality, with its harsh edges and bleeding scrapes and deadlines and numbness, always numbness. She turns on the engine and looks at him. He feels so warm, so euphoric, so happy. He remembers what they once shared and what they could share, and he hopes she does too. After all, it's in his nature.

The truck rolls by; We never meant for it to be this way

2008-02-26T22:01:00.005+09:00

First, let me introduce the uninitiated to a blog I've been reading a lot of, Stuff White People Like.
http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.wordpress.com/

It is hilarious and it's criticism is often so apt I find myself feeling bad about myself. It's not really about all White people of course, more so just 20-30 something left-wing culture snob types. Some of my favorite posts are about Apple products, bikes and wanting to be the only White person in a place.

This weekend was pretty cool. Saturday, Micah, Richard and I decided to take it easy and explore new places. We took the train to Hyewa, which Richard claimed was a decently cool neighborhood. We heard there was a bar there called Santana that was famed for their dark beer, which is pretty rare in Korea. Well, upon arriving we found they had four kinds of dark beer served in pitchers (wow, four! that's stunning in its sheer variety, isn't it?). Pretty standard fare: we settled on Guinness because it was surprisingly cheap. I was the only one with a vantage point towards the bar and noticed they did not actually have a Guinness tap. Strange, we thought. She pulled 3 bottles of Guinness Extra Stout (without the widget, shame) out of the fridge. She put these in a pitcher. This only filled up maybe half way. I watched as she took the pitcher to the Cass tap(a terrible, cheap Korean beer on par with Miller) and filled up the pitcher the rest of the way. We were stunned. It of course tasted very strange and not what you would expect. We left after the small pitcher because we did not feel like giving money to such a dishonest establishment. On another note, that neighborhood was not so cool.
Sunday, Hye Jin came over and we ate samgaetang, a soup with a whole chicken in it. It was delicious. I was fearing chicken noodle soup, Korean edition, and it was much better. By the way, I really don't like chicken noodle soup (shocking, isn't it?). Apparently, you are only supposed to eat this really hot soup in the summer and we were the only people in the restaurant.
After that, she offered to get her parents' car and drive us around. This was my first experience doing anything like this in Korea and it was really cool. I saw the country and some beautiful mountains and we went to this ridiculously popular outdoor restaurant. It was multiple wooden buildings, like traditional Korean kind of things. They had maybe 8 fire pits because the wait was like 30 minutes and people were all just milling about. I felt incredibly conspicuous because this place was way off the beaten path. I had an acorn jelly salad and squid pancakes and they were both really good. But it was the atmosphere of this place that made it really shine.
In case you were wondering why I said "parents' car" before, Korean culture is very different when it comes to staying with your parents. It is most common for children to stay with their parents until married. They have jobs but also have a room at home. Their parents still have a say over them too, for example, I have to contend with a 12 o'clock curfew on weeknights. To an American adult, this is truly ridiculous, but that's the situation over here and they don't really find it strange at all. Sometimes, children will travel to go to college (rare, because most Koreans live in Seoul and its where the universities are) and these kids are given more free reign. And to think I barely had a curfew in high school...

We built ice castles

2008-02-22T23:37:00.005+09:00

It was Christmas vacation from college and we had some big plans. We were going to spend a whole week (ok, 4 days) at my dad's cottage on the water in Caseville. Our purpose: to isolate ourselves in an attempt to make music; to save a dying musical relationship that had been on the rocks for almost a year. We also wanted to cook a lot of food and basically live like adults, something apparently we weren't doing at university.
We packed up an entire van full of musical equipment. We bought food ingredients. I got a new cookbook. The excitement was palpable. But like so many times in your life, the build-up was much better than the reality.

It took hours to unload the equipment and rearrange furniture to set things up. We sat down to work and after literally one hour decided it wasn't working. Everything degenerated into wanking and mindless meandering, never locking into something tangible or meaningful. We spent the rest of the day cooking and watching movies.
As the week elapsed, we somehow justified not working on music anymore or even trying. It was like a hurdle we could not overcome; the death of our working relationship was not something we wanted to confront so it was better to avoid it and not broach it all. Turning on our machines and sitting with each other was too blunt of a reminder of our own fallibility and the decay of our creativity.

I remember we watched "The Empire Strikes Back."

The last night we went outside onto the frozen lake. The pale moonlight cast an eerie glow across the snow and ice that I can still picture vividly. It was, for lack of a better description, utterly beautiful. We trekked out and felt the wind blow into us. There was no reason to ever leave that place and that moment, other than the bitter cold. I remember wishing I could translate that feeling into a creative energy, but I knew inside that I could not.
The next day we went out on the ice again in an attempt to relive that night, but it was not really possible. Over night, however, the landscape had changed and the ice had broken along a ridge with all these large blocks and pieces. We spent two hours arranging and rearranging the ice sheets into some sort of random pseudo natural occurrence, as if that meant something.
But, in the end, that act of creation was something we needed to share in again, knowing the whole time that it was fleeting. It felt good to be making something together again, like we used to when we were young.
When we were young, building was THE purpose for us; there was always something to be built, additions to be made, plans to be laid.

I looked at the mess of ice and snow around us, broken into pieces by my own hands and his. And I saw my childhood heart-that feeling of endless possibility-in pieces too; and I knew it could never be the same.

A cold wind blows from the ocean, but why should I care?

2008-02-13T01:29:00.000+09:00

I know, I know. I've lost touch with blogging reality. Meaning: I haven't posted in a long time. The truth is I'm tired a lot and I just can't find the time. Other times when I do have time, I simply don't want to write anything. Lots is going on my life, truthfully more than has been going on for a while, and yet I don't always have the desire to write something. So, can I promise I will be more diligent? Hmm...no, I can't-but I will try. I have to keep my readers satisfied, according to the comments I received recently.
Last week was Lunar New Year, which is a big holiday all through Asia. I had dreams of going to Japan with Richard but we looked into tickets and it was $770 when it should only be $300. That's how popular this vacation is. So we said F it and decided to go to Busan, a city on the ocean in the south of Korea. It was a simple trip, but a good one. Highlights included eating whale (고래), which was not good at all actually, probably because it was boiled. Also included was endlessly playing tricks on Dominic's girlfriend and people watching on a beach in the dead of winter. We also took a boat tour and walked around the city a lot, courtesy of a couple of Korean locals serving as our guides, including a wealthy boyfriend/girlfriend duo that drove an Infiniti. Nice-uh. Additionally, I ate raw sea cucumber which tasted fine but had a texture that could be most properly described as ear-like.
The third day we were kicked out of hostel (who knows why) and moved down the street to a much dirtier one. This was by far the nastiest and dirtiest motel I have ever stayed in; the bedside drawer came with materials I don't want to name and the wallpaper looked about 50 years old. Strangely enough, we spent more time in this shithole than the the other one because a. we were tired on the third day and b. there was a Law and Order: SVU marathon on one of the channels. We went out for lunch, came back and watched 6 episodes while Andrew napped; went out for dinner and came back within 45 minutes to catch two more episodes. It was supremely satisfying, like if I reverted to a primitive state and my only desires were to eat and drink. Of course, in this primitive state all I wanted was to watch L&O. By the end of the day I was expecting everything in life to have about 20 plot twists and misdirections, but alas real life tends to be rather straight forward.
The next morning we caught an early (6:00AM) train back to Seoul. I slept the whole 3 hours and it felt good to come back into the city. It's strange how homey the city feels when you return to it; it felt the same when I came back from Cambodia. I came home, slept a little more than the spent the day with Hye Jin (for those of you who need an introduction, that's my girlfriend of the last couple of months). Sunday is turning into a nice ritual with her, although she was almost as tired as I was and we napped for at least 3 hours throughout the day. She was in Japan for the week. Me=jealous. I'm planning a trip to Japan myself within a couple of months, possibly for a short weekend to attend a music festival there. It's hard to justify the long trip for only 2 days but I am desperate to see good live music. Korea is a musical wasteland I'm afraid. I am going to see Bjork this weekend, but that is seriously the only good show to come to Korea in the last 3 years, unless you like Beyonce.
Check out this ajumma cutting up some whale. A small plateful was $50!

I managed to get perilously close to the ocean on slippery rocks.

Busan is basically like Seoul, but on the ocean.

It was growing; things are going to change

2008-01-18T00:02:00.000+09:00

Whoa, it's been a while. Got back from Cambodia and started this morning program at school which means that three days a week I have to work from 9am to 9pm. Uggggghhhhhh.
But as P. Diddy said, it's all about the benjamins and I get significant revenue from these added hours. I think it actually marks the first time I went against my internal feelings on extra work and did something solely for the money. I have always put my time above my money, but I felt like I came here to earn money and when I accepted this two months ago I was kinda unhappy and thinking differently. Moral of the story, in the future, I choose time over money. Kinda anti-Bracciano of me, I know.
Other than feeling incredibly pressed for time (hence the lack of blog posts or general communiques), things have been great. My friend Richard returned and it's been great to talk with him. He's also altered the environment at work and now its a little more jokey. We got another new teacher, Micah, who happens to share a lot of my same interests, especially music. I have a feeling he will fit into the pseudo group we have going here pretty well. On a related and sad note, we are losing Josh because his contract is up this Sunday. When I first got here, Josh did a lot to make me feel like I fit in and was my first real friend here. It will be very strange and sad to see him go. But such is the way of Korea, it is a transient and fast-moving place, for better or worse. Probably worse. Comfort yourself with some random photos from Cambodia.

Bayon Temple, Angkor Wat. Home of nicely carved giant faces and about 1,000 Korean tourists moving through in a line.

Brandon skirts a perilous edge at the actual Angkor Wat.

Sunset, I can't remember the name of the temple. Mike looks at his camera while I look on approvingly.

Great moons of the Cambodial night sky

2008-01-01T16:07:00.000+09:00

Nothing can ever stand up to preconceptions. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing. You would just think that after so many utter failures in predicting what a place will look like, what a situation will feel like or what a person will be like you would stop trying. And yet, I persist. Cambodia has challenged every thought I had about it and I continue to make more, kicking and screaming as they are decimated.
I am travelling with a friend from work (Mike), a friend from college (Brandon) and his friend from college (Rachel). We spent two nights in Phnom Penh, the capital. A short description would say the city was large in a horizontal sense, unpleasing to the eye and dirty. Trash seems to just line the streets. While people eat at restaurants, they throw their paper trash on the sidewalk for people to sweep up later. Empty lots are covered in trash. Phnom Penh did not blow me away, but we were not expecting it to. Sites included the Killing Fields (where a massive monument filled with 5,000 human skulls is located) and a high school turned torture center turned museum known as Tuol Sleng. Maybe the depressing nature of our visits in Phnom Penh made it less pleasurable.
The bus ride yesterday through the countryside was also a little hard. Rural Cambodia is poor and people are mostly rice farmers living in wooden homes on stilts off the ground. Brandon and I were discussing our Ipods on the bus and it occurred to me how disgustingly privileged I am in the face of these humble lifestyles. Worse, I did nothing to earn it; it was my simple birthright as an upper-middle class American. Yet, you don't see me giving it up...hypocrisy runs strong and deep.
Siem Reap has been a really nice breath of fresh air, though. It is situated along a river with an actual downtown area that is very touristy. Its kinda like Disney World where you have all these old buildings situated by each other with aesthetically pleasing restaurants that White tourists would want to eat at. The difference is here everything is unbelievably cheap. We arrived yesterday for find the first 3 guesthouses we visited full. It was New Years Eve afterall. We found one that was nice but kinda expensive ($17 a room), but we didn't really have a choice. We moved to a more affordable and charming one this morning ($8/room). Like I said, the prices are very low. I just ate a full lunch with a fruit smoothie for $3.50. Beer is a dollar for a mug and its decent. The internet access I use right now is .75/hour. Last night was New Years Eve, so we had dinner on Bar Street (clever name) and then got massages (the appropriate kind). The massage was $6 for an hour and I have to say it could be the best $6 I ever spent. I plan on going everyday. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was a slightly inappropriate experience; being touched by a stranger takes time to get used to. After our massages, we went down the street where there was a massive New Years Eve party replete with a DJ and a lot of Cambodians (also a lot of foreigners). It was a truly memorable evening. Today we are just resting and eating and tomorrow we will go to Angkor Wat, the massive temples that Cambodia is famous for.
Well, I want to get out of this internet cafe. I have a hammock, warm breeze and cheap Cambodian beer waiting for me at the guesthouse.

Is it me you're looking for?

2007-12-28T11:47:00.000+09:00

Christmas far away from home is a unique experience. Last Friday, we had a work party at this restaurant where we exchanged Secret Santa gifts and sang noraebang. I, unfortunately, did not win the competition with my rendition of Lionel Richie's "Hello" which is fast becoming one of my favorite singing choices. For my Secret Santa, I had no idea what to get so I asked her boyfriend (who's mildly eccentric) and he said she really liked Oreos. So I went to a foreign foods market and bought $17 worth of Oreos, which everyone on my floor thought was like rude or a joke or something. I was being serious.
Christmas Day itself was spent at a coworker's apartment. She cooked a bunch of American food (she's a good cook too) and we sat around drinking wine and eating for around 8 hours. It was a nice day, but it couldn't come close to being with family. I did get to hold a miniature schnauzer like it was a baby, which was kind of a highlight of my life I suppose. I also got to talk to my mom and her whole family via video chat, which was a nice way to simulate family interaction and I spoke to my dad over the phone as well.
The rest of the week has just been preparing for my trip to Cambodia: reserving guest houses, emailing people, packing etc. My flight leaves tomorrow (Saturday) and so I will be pretty much unreachable until I return on January 6th. If I have internet access (a likely possibility), I may post a blog to inform people that I am, in fact, still alive.

On the edge of death, on the doorstep of redemption

2007-12-19T17:34:00.000+09:00

I hate the way my hair looks when I don't put anything into it. It is a major source of shame for me. It lacks body and lies flat and dead. I've been sick the last couple of days and haven't been able to do anything to it, eg. right now it looks really bad.
When I say I've been sick, this really doesn't do justice to how I felt. I now believe I felt the worst I've ever felt in my life these last two days. Which makes the fact that today I feel almost acceptable all the more unbelievable. I had a cold last week which cleared up by Saturday and Sunday. I felt totally normal on Sunday. Come Monday morning I had a sore throat and felt really bad. My whole body ached and I dreamed all night about being sick. I woke up and my dream had transmogrified. I don't know what that word actually means but I want to use it.
I went to the doctor and they said sinus infection. I said no surprise there, I get those like middle schoolers get braces. Took my antibiotics and went home. But Monday night was hellish. I never slept more than an hour at a time.
I awoke Tuesday feeling worse than before. My mind started reeling. What could this be? I had pork on Sunday, did I have that pork disease (ed. note 1: he means trichinellosis; ed. note 2: strange, I thought it was trigonosis)? Did I have mono? I got a hepatitis A shot last week, did it transmogrify into hep A in my body (note: this is technically impossible according to all literature I could find, but that doesn't quell the thinking of a pseudo-hypochondriac)? With the help of WedMD, you can be sure that I investigated all these possibilities (and more) to their (il-?)logical conclusion. I called the doctor and said I was worse. They said to call back Wednesday if I still hadn't improved, antibiotics take time. Improve, I thought. There would be plenty of time for improvement when I was lying dead in my apartment from hep A and mono.
But all joking aside, I felt so incredibly terrible the last two days. I slept around 70% of the day and was awake only 5 hours a day at most. I had no appetite whatsoever and subsisted on spoonfuls of peanut butter and some oranges I got from Josh. I went to bed last night feeling crappy still, pondering what a hospital bed in a giant hospital in Seoul would be like...
Last night, I dreamed. And I woke feeling a little normal. My legs didn't ache (but my back does-this is what spending 19 hours a day in an extra firm Korean bed does to you). I was clean from Advil (and believe me it took copious amounts just to get my fever down to 100) and I felt okay. I still called into work because there was no energy to teach, but the point is I survived. Somehow, I am alive. I looked death in the face and I spit on it. And believe me, with a sinus infection that was a nasty spit.
So how did I celebrate my rebirth? I laid in bed more, watched Oldboy (a phenomenally excellent Korean film) and had McDonalds for dinner. The only thing I actually craved this week was McDonalds and suffice it to say I was in fact, loving it. I think I've forgotten what American fries are like, but Korean ketchup is too sweet: ick.
In other news, Pitchfork's Top 50 of 2007 came out yesterday. Damn, it kinda disappointed me a bit. Somethings I agree with, but No.1 is that stupid Person Pitch album by Panda Bear. I swear there is a conspiracy in the music community to convince people that album is SO much better than it is. I, however, will not be fooled. I, the one who tricked death and spat in its face, who braved the cold and got my waeguk special at 맥도나드, I stand on the doorstep of tomorrow and I intend to enter.

Spirit They're Gone, Spirit They've Vanished

2007-12-09T14:23:00.000+09:00

Thursday night I got home from work with another employee (Ben, my boss actually) and we noticed there was a lot of trash out by the receptacles. Clothes, DVDs, college books in Korean and more. We started picking through it, finding a lot of DVDs we liked and wondering just why all this stuff was out here. Was somebody moving? If so, why would they throw so much away? Eventually, our super came out and encouraged us to take more. Two moving men then came with more boxes and encouraged further pilfering. Kitchen supplies, curtains, an ironing board-there were many things, including things I actually was going to buy eventually like a sewing kit, candles and the aforementioned ironing board. Another POLY employee, Linda, who lives in Nesville came down and joined us. Unfortunately, Linda brought news with her of what exactly was going on.
A month ago, a woman around my age (who we believe was married) died on the 6th floor. We think it was either suicide or possibly murder by her husband/boyfriend. We don't have much to base this on, just some yelling and noise that was heard in the hall the day it all went down. In case you aren't good at drawing conclusions, this was HER stuff. The event suddenly became very somber. It is strange enough to go through somebody's things, but a person no longer living's things is truly weird. Everything became poignant: her bills were found, her makeup bag, notebooks she had kept. It was actually kind of heart-breaking. I hoped that when I die somebody I loved will do this for me and not two strangers who would simply throw everything I had in the trash without a care.
The event as you can imagine took a lot of moral justification on my part, but in reality the stuff was already in the trash. It was destined for a dump. I buy a lot of things at thrift stores and I suppose some of that might have belonged to deceased persons. Nonetheless, it felt a little weird.
We ended up staying out there quite a while sifting and other Korean tenants joined us (which made us feel a little better). At the end we were all done and the four of us went in the elevator to go up to our respective apartments. The movers had left a while ago, but they must have dropped a small box in the elevator. Linda opened it and we found it was a music box (that played upon opening for maximum dramatic effect) and a picture of the woman. We returned the box to its place on the floor and left in a weirder mood than before.

Return of Flute Man

2007-12-03T01:23:00.000+09:00

Wow, it's been a while since my last entry. Much has happened since then, too-my birthday, work developments, Christmas shopping and all around good times.
Last weekend was a fun time. Two employees are leaving POLY so there was a going away party of sorts Friday. It was typical Korean style late night, concluded with noraebang (karaoke for those who don't remember) into the wee hours of the morning. Amazingly enough, everyone's favorite slide whistle hippie dropout showed up again and this time I got him on video and in a picture. This guy is truly legendary. As you can see, he played TWO tin whistles at once. We hid the tambourine so he couldn't do as he did last time, but he must have a sixth tambourine locating sense because he found it promptly and beat himself with it accordingly. He also stayed a lot longer this time and finished up the night by yodeling until we all managed to escape him.
My birthday was the following Tuesday. I went out to get some lamb with friends from work and it was a good time, although I forgot my camera so their is no documentation of it happening. Perhaps it really didn't. It was strange to not see family at all, although I did get a nice series of packages in the mail (thanks everyone!). After dinner we went to the now legendary Sincheon photo booth and played dress up again although I have no way of getting the photos on the computer without the aid of Andrew's macro lens camera. Ain't no scanners in Korea.
The week was average and I quickly forgot it was my birthday. I spent this weekend shopping for both holidays and myself. I bought a lot of gifts from a variety of places and now I have to ship them all over. I also purchased a ton of clothes. I am going to leave Korea with far more than I came with but I can't help myself.
Today I went to Insadong (an old-cobblestoned area of Seoul, very beautiful) to do gift shopping. Andrew originally accompanied me but left after to lunch to go meet a girl. I would probably do the same so no problem there. Lunch, however was kinda gross and it was his recommendation. It was probably the first thing I had here that I was really not fond of. It was pork intestine sausage soup. There were bits of sausage filled with noodles that were okay. The soup itself had literally no flavor so it was boring. Then there were rings of pig intestine in it which actually tasted how a barn smells. So now I can say I think I know what poop actually tastes like. By the way, the name for intestines in Korea is kind of funny (dong jeep) which translates as "poop house" so it's not just a clever name.
Then I came home, napped and wrapped presents. All in all, a nice day and I finished it up by watching Ernest Scared Stupid which was, well, pretty stupid.
This last picture is from some random bar in Hongdae that wasn't very good but this mural was too amazing to pass up. This wasn't even ironic, either.

Not bee like buzz bee

2007-11-20T22:54:00.000+09:00

Yesterday was the first snowfall. Winter has officially come to Seoul. As Edwin, Josh and I walked to Kimbap Heaven after work, the snow came down in huge flakes and would not stop. The flakes were seriously the largest I have ever seen and they stuck all over my clothes. By the time we had walked the 10 blocks home we were soaked. There was also thunder and lightning accompanying this snow which I guess is technically called thundersnow. I have never seen thundersnow since I was once 5 years old and we had a snow day prefaced by this lengthy storm. It was kind of cool.

Most of the snow is now melted, although as I look out at Olympic Park (I'm at work right now) I can still see white crust on the grass. Maybe its just because this is the only grass I see, ever. Seoul is not known for grass.
This weekend I went shopping in Insadong and came back on the train. While on there, this old Korean guy with good English started chatting me up. A vague transcript follows:
Dude: "What you got there? A guitar?"
Me: "Actually, its a keyboard." (okay, I just bought it-I have a purchasing problem as many of you know)
D: "Oh, you play keyboard or guitar?"
M: Both
D: Oh, wow, that's like the Bee Gees. You know the Bee Gees?
He starts listing all their names and repeating himself a lot to make sure I understand.
D: Andy Gibb, now he died of a heart attack.
M: Yeah, I heard that. That's too bad.
D: Yes, they were so good. He played the keyboard like you. (mimes playing keys and makes a silly face) Are you like the Bee Gees?
M: No, not really.
D; Oh, why not?
M: Different style of music.
D: What kind do you play?
M: Rock, I suppose (explaining this is always extremely difficult).
D: Oh, well they were rock. Softer rock, but rock. (this guys English repertoire is surprisingly diverse I think)
M: Yeah.
D: They were amazing. Their harmonies were perfect. Their music is just perfect. Three brothers all working together perfectly.
M: (laughing nervously, wanting this to end-about 3 minutes have elapsed total. It feels like 30)
D: The Bee Gees. Do you know what their name means?
M: I dunno, I guess.
D: Not bee like buzzzzz bee (mimes a bee flying). Not buzz bee, no. But B like brothers. And gee for Gibb. The Brothers Gibb. Bee Gees.
M: Ahhh. (laughing. A seat has now opened.) Well, I'm going to sit over here.
D: (following me) Where do you get off?
M: Dunchondong.
D: Oh, I get off next stop.
M: (relieved) Oh.
D: Well, I wish you luck with music. Play like the Bee Gees. Make perfect harmonies like them. So perfect.
M: (laughing more) Thanks.

I have some cool plans coming up. I am traveling to Cambodia over Christmas break which I am really excited about. Even more exciting is that I will be meeting my friend Brandon who I have not seen since I left. We plan on going to Angkor Wat (famous Cambodian temple) and Phnom Penh, the large city in Cambodia with all the museums about the Khmer Rouge. We have also heard we can fire AK-47s and possibly blow up cars and/or cows with rocket launchers. I'm definitely down for the AK, but I don't want to kill anything, especially with a rocket launcher. The car explosion might be interesting but its $100. Something to consider I guess.
I have included some photos of my apartment and teh surrounding area. Might be interesting to some folk. The first photo is of my building, aka Nesville.
Typical Korean street, namely, the one I live on ------>

Thank you, I love you

2007-11-10T16:07:00.000+09:00

Today had the potential to really suck, but it ended up being great-probably because I spent money. I had to wake up at 8:00am this morning to go to a mandatory new foreign teacher meeting on the western side of Seoul (about 1 hour train ride away). Josh went too, actually most teachers from POLY did. It promised to be a waste of time, and pretty much was.
The beginning was this one guy who I felt really bad for because he was kinda nervous talking about what we needed to do to get our alien registration cards. I've had mine for a month now, I didn't need a half hour presentation on it. Other presentations were similarly wasteful. The last hour of the day was a high school rock band (no joke) and some kind of indigenous type music. I didn't stay to watch, although I kinda wanted to see that band rock. No joke.
We got some kind of free meal ticket so we went down to the food court and tried to get free sushi. No go. Tried to get free Pizza Hut. No go. Settled on Burger King figuring it would be free. No go. It was really bad too. The first and last time I will have it here. I did find a place in the mall that sold Auntie Anne's pretzels-whoa, I about shat myself over this. There was less butter and salt than usual, but still delicious.
Josh was staying in that area for a long time to meet someone, so I headed home on the train with another coworker, Tyler. I decided to shop at Dongdaemun and I'm glad I did. I went to a_/pm, which is like a big mall there. All the whities continually call it am/pm because this makes sense, but the beauty of it is that it doesn't make sense. I like calling them on it and then proving them wrong. Its actually one of 5 malls in a two block area, all high rises. Korean markets really are strange-they just cram the same thing in one area and everybody fights for your business. I went to the first men's floor looking for t-shirts, sweaters, hoodies, whatever. I was utterly assaulted everywhere I went. "Hello-what you looking for?" "Hello, where you from?" The floor is configured into maze like aisles with stands lining each. Each stall has many of the same clothes. The further you go from the escalator, the less you pay. Everyone who knows English wants to use it on you, so I got a lot of hellos, what's ups and even a pound. He was really proud of that.
They pull out shirt after shirt to show you even after you say no over and over again. If you want something more expensive they will give you a discount which they enter in a calculator for maximum dramatic effect. Leaving is hard and more than once I was pressured into buying something. Korean clothes really are cool though, and cheap. I didn't pay over $25 for anything. There were so many highlights its hard to recall them all, but two favorites were this girl who kept holding my hand during the negotiating and when I finally bought one shirt she said "thank you. i love you." I sadly appreciated this more than I probably should have. Another guy said I looked like Harry Potter than spat out a bunch of Korean to his coworker and they laughed; that's nice and not at all demeaning.
I ended up buying about 8 different things, including a hoodie that looks like a brown Jedi robe and is probably the most feminine thing I've ever attempted to wear. This is not good because the homophobes at work make fun of me enough as it is. Apparently, caring how you look equals either being a woman or gay. Our society has so far to go. In my defense, it looked better on the mannequin.
Things got better as I went home with my conquests. It felt good to be in the city alone, navigating it without a problem and really feeling like a resident. I got on the train and sat next to an old man who smelled like soju breath and the inside of a tent my dad has had since the early 80s. I made faces at a rather ugly baby and scrolled through albums on my Ipod with ADD-like intensity. As I got off the train, Sufjan was singing about John Wayne Gacy and my eye caught a piece of lint blowing around the train's floor. That is the second time he's given meaning to daily minutiae. I got off and walked in the cool fall air and overcast sky. The music I was listening to hit a climax and I felt really good. It was one of those moments where you are glad to be alive and to be where you are. I could use more moments like that; I think we all could.

North Korea is for lovers

2007-11-05T00:10:00.000+09:00

This was quite an eventful weekend.
Andrew and Josh convinced me about a month ago to shell out 390,000 won to take a one night trip to North Korea. Its this very safe thing that they set up to bring in tourist dollars and they do it once a month. You go to a mountain (Mt. Kumgangsan), hike, hang out in a touristy area they built specifically for this and other than the North Korean soldiers monitoring you, you aren't really sure you're not in South Korea.
We started on a bus at 11:50 Friday night. We drove all night to the northeast coast of South Korea, arriving at a beach for watch the sun come up. Of course, the bus was uncomfortable so I was lucky to get maybe two hours of sleep. You then go through immigration and get to North Korea. You immediately go hiking. Also, we never ate so I was running on crappy peanuts that had been sitting in a Korean rest stop for like three years. Oh and M&Ms, too. Anyway, the hike was pretty excruciating but beautiful. We were so tired. We got back to the hotel (very posh place, by the way-somehow so uncommunist dictatorship like). I wanted to sleep but Josh wanted to eat and Andrew and Dominic (lives near Andrew) wanted to apparently just sit in their room and watch TV (South Korean TV piped in specially). Josh and I split a bowl of ramyun outside the Family Mart as we didn't have enough time for dinner.
The acrobatics show was next. I never thought about it, but I've never been to a circus since I was young. It was phenomenal. I was seriously acting like a 6 year old. I was so enthralled and kept saying things like "no way" or "really-you're going to juggle while hanging on a trapeze 20 meters up and balancing a 3 meter pole with 4 wine glasses on it in your mouth?" Coz seriously, a woman did that. I was blown away. There was also a band there that wasn't actually playing their instruments, like 20 guys. How would you like that for a job-the trombonist in a band that pretends to play. There was also a woman who was like the emcee who wore a huge flowing pink hanbok (traditional Korean dress) and spoke in a falsetto voice that sounded like it was always on the verge of tears. It was incredibly melodramatic and meant to make you cry supposedly but she was saying things basically on par with "here is Kim Say Yung, great trapeze artist." Earlier, a male announcer intoned in English that if we clapped at the appropriate times the performers would give us the best show in the world. The land of hyperpole, apparently.
We had a crappy buffet for dinner but by this time had met up with some other female travelers, one of which Andrew had a crush on. Andrew is great for meeting people, he just walks up and has something to say. Makes it easy for everyone. We ended up spending the whole weekend with these three girls, they were really nice-two were American and one was German. There was a curfew of midnight in this little tourist area, but it didn't matter because I was in bed by 10pm. I was so tired. I did manage to have a North Korean beer which was actually amazingly good. Rumor has it Kim Jong-Il is a huge beer fan (mad props, yo) and bought out a bankrupt German brewery and moved all the equipment to North Korea. He uses this to brew Oberst, which is not widely available, but tastes just like a Belgian Dubbel (which tastes mostly like bubble gum). It was BY FAR the best I have had since I got here, which isn't saying much I suppose.
We had to wake at 6:30am for breakfast, which was also weak. Then we hiked more. Then we had free time which Andrew and I spent soaking up some more Korean culture (eg., Oberst) and chatting up some more girls Andrew introduced us to. This guy is like a movie star.
The bus ride home was long and uncomfortable and it feels great to be back. It was actually a truly awesome trip, much better than I expected and for reasons I never would have thought (acrobatics-who would have thought?). I am anxious to go to sleep.
Lastly, a note about North Koreans. Firstly, they look just like South Koreans. They even have girls our age, which I didn't expect for some reason. They all wear pins with the Great Leader on them and they never missed an opportunity to scroll through the pictures on your camera if you handed it to them to take your photo. They seemed very suspicious and did not like miguks (Americans). We were getting off a shuttle bus and the driver asked us our nationality, we said miguk and he just said oh. A Canadian came after us and he literally shouted "yeah! Canada." It was like directed at us. Nonetheless, the preferred currency on site was US dollars. Strange, I can't believe an extremist doctrine would end in hypocrisy; never seen that before.
Quotes from the weekend that I liked:

"This is the hardest part of the hike, or as I like to call it-where the fun begins."-Josh, trying to impress a girl we were hiking with until I called him on this incredibly cheesy line and ruined his plans

"It just occurred to me...give me your number."-Me, trying to impress a girl on the bus until I called myself on this almost aggressive line and ruined my own plans

Alcohol culture in Korea

2007-10-28T21:00:00.000+09:00

Josh and I went to E-Mart tonight, which is kind of like a Wal-Mart crossed with a department store. Grocery and what not but far too classy to be Wal-Mart. In the alcohol section there was a woman giving free samples of Kahlua and milk. She was giving out free alcohol samples. Did you hear that? Also, when you buy a 4 pack of Cass cans you get free ramyun noodles. And you can get a six-pack of soju (which is like mild vodka) for literally $4.00. Free Kahlua samples, the mind reels.

First doctor visit, and a super left-wing rant. Watch out!

2007-10-27T14:14:00.000+09:00

Well, I have sadly succumbed to some sort of sinus infection. I was so proud of myself for fighting off my last sicknesses without the help of a doctor, but I could tell this was a sinus problem because my entire head is stuffed to the max.
I decided to take a trip to a local ears, nose and throat who speaks English. It was very close to my apartment. The waiting room was packed. The receptionists, of course, did not speak English. I wrote my name on the waiting list after pointing to it and the receptionist saying "ne." It was funny to see my English name on the sheet. I didn't know if they would even be able to read it (they couldn't quite, actually). I considered writing it in Korean characters but wondered if that would confuse them more.
They called my name after about ten minutes and I came up to the desk. They needed my insurance card, which I didn't have yet. I gave them my alien registration card and it was apparent the woman was confused. Luckily, at that moment a woman who could almost speak English was paying and she kind of helped me. I wasn't really sure what the last thing she said was and then she left. They asked for my phone number, which I actually don't know off the top of my head. Pathetic. That was the end of the exchange-I couldn't decide if I was meant to go in or what. I went and sat back down. My mind was reeling with the possibility that they would forget about me. Tons of people were called over the next 20 minutes while I waited with baited breath. Did they forget about me? Didn't that person arrive after me? Am I being ignored? If I am, what can I say? I don't speak the language...Those of you who know my analytic nature can only imagine what was transpiring in my worrisome mind during this time.
Finally, in answer to my prayers the woman looked at my and gestured for me to go. You then go to a pseudo waiting room with some stools. There are a lot of machines in this room and to my amazement the actual doctor is just in the next room with a huge looking automated machine. Its only one guy and he's cranking out the patients. Amazingly fast compared to the US. I sat in his chair in another two minutes. He opened with annyong haseyo but luckily spoke very good English. I told him my symptoms and he looked in my nose. He said I had a sinus infection. He gave me five prescriptions. Wow. All this he entered in a computer with super speed. There were a collection of hoses to the left of me and all sorts of tips and wedges. I wondered what they were all for. It seriously looked like a futuristic doctor's officer where everything is all automated or something. I asked if he gave me a prescription for a stuffy nose; or rather I said to clear my nose out. He said most Americans don't like to have their noses drained because it hurts, but he promptly got out this suction thing and fitted a tip on it. He told me he would try not to make it too painful. What have I gotten myself into I thought?
The metal tip was inserted into each nostril (after being flushed with a quick blast of disinfectant air). The tip went down into my nasal cavity deeply and it was uncomfortable to say the least. But after it was done, my nose was completely cleared. He sucked all the snot right out. And to think I just wanted some Sudafed.
After being dismissed (total time: 5 minutes at most), I was lead back to the post-waiting room and made to inhale some stuff through my nose, presumably a Vaporub type solution. Luckily, I could in fact smell Vicks.
I went to the receptionist again and paid. Since I had no insurance card, it was 12,000 won (roughly $12 US). If I had insurance it would have been 3. No joke. And people say socialized medicine is a bad thing. Just wait, it gets better.
I went to get my FIVE prescriptions (cough syrup-which I dont need, antibiotics, pain killer-also don't need, decongestant-yes, please, and allergy meds-at least I think thats what it is, I can't read it). These prescriptions cost me $14.00 and I got a free vitamin C drink to boot. That is simply ridiculous. I walked home happily.
Upon arrival at home, I realized I could not understand what to do with all these pills and which to avoid. My Korean-Canadian friend Edwin luckily came over and we sorted it out, with the help of the pharmacy on the phone. So now I am ready to get better and I have learned an important lesson:
The medical system in the United States is corrupt and out of date. Every person deserves decent care and Korea has shown me that this can work. Albeit, Korea is a smaller country with only 1/6th the population of the US. But this doesn't matter because the US has an infinitely larger amount of wealth. Oh wait, all that wealth is concentrated in the hands of 1% of our population. Now I remember! The capitalist class has no desire to help the average person or spread their wealth around-they are the people that own the pharmaceutical companies that lead to such exorbitant prices in the whole medical community. Did I mention my prescriptions cost $14? I'm sure thats attractive to an elderly person taking five pills a day. But that won't happen because the people in power in the US do not care about the common person and never will. Okay, socialist rant all done but its definitely something to think about. If the richest country in the world can't afford to give health care to all its population while a country barely in the "developed" category can, something is amiss.

The quest for pillow cases

2007-10-23T11:27:00.000+09:00

This tale is instructive because it makes you consider the small differences between cultures you might not think of. The difference on display today is pillow cases. Hell, I could do sleeping habits in general. Let's start with the mattress.
Do you like a firm mattress? Is your sleep number bed set to 3 (I believe this would be an extremely firm setting, although I couldn't really say)? If so, you would love Korea. The mattresses here are like lightly springed tables. If there is a wrinkle in my pants when I lay down, its like Princess and the Pea. Does she feel the pea in that story? Its been too long.
Well, fitted sheets come next. They don't have them here. I have no idea why. Even a firm mattress needs well-fitting sheets but alas you can't find them. I know this sounds strange like maybe I just looked hard enough. But you don't understand until you try. I tried to deny it at first too but when you look in stores they're just simply not there. At first you think its because you can't read what things say, but no THEY DON'T EXIST.
Last comes pillow cases. I got two new pillows (which they have) but needed new cases. I was at E-Mart with Andrew looking around the home section. I finally locate some but they are expensive. I find some cheaper ones (3000won each). They don't look so great (pastel plaid) but I figure they will do the job. By the way, the only pillow cases here are actually pillow shams. You know, the ones that zip up. This way the pillow can't escape and slowly pour out of the case like they tend to I guess. Its like a pillow prison or pillow spine. Either way, they SUCK.
So I get the pillow cases (shams) home, mildly excited I admit. I put in the first pillow. Its a lot of work and the pillow is no super taut. Like it looks ridiculous and there is no way you could sleep on this thing, its hard as a rock, or excuse me mattress. The next pillow inexplicably fits fine and thats the one I sleep on. Were the shams different sizes? The pillows different? I'll never know because I can't read the pillow package.

구리스

2007-10-19T23:42:00.000+09:00

In case you are wondering, the title of this blog is my name in Korean. Koreans pronounce my name Chris-uh. The name above literally says Ku-Reh-Suh. The reason for this is pretty simple, namely that Korean cannot have a consonant without a vowel. So the ending of an S on a name is simply not possible in the language, so they add a "uh." For example, there is a place called Technomart-its really Tek-ah-no-mar-tuh. This is extremely funny to me still; Josh says this will wear off eventually but I like throwing uh onto everything and I still laugh everytime.
Today was the first day of fall here in terms of the weather. It was fantastic. The trees are still green but the air had that crisp cool fall bite that makes you want to wear a sweater, walk around listening to music and fall in love. Enchanting. I even wore my winter jacket out tonight it was so cold.
I got a new Ipod last weekend and am so glad I did. I cannot do work without listening to music or I get really lazy and don't want to do anything. I got an Ipod Nano because I read those are more reliable because they use a different hard drive technology that doesn't have moving parts. I didn't like the prospect of getting another one and having it break in a year. Its also black and rather sexy; and I reserve that word only for special occasions. I'm in the process of trying to get all my music back for it and its going to be difficult for a lot of the more obscure albums (alblum according to my father).
Hoping to hike tomorrow and I'm going to North Korea in two weeks-more on that later.

The internet is coming

2007-10-12T01:26:00.000+09:00

Word on the street is that the internet will be here tomorrow (Friday) or Monday at the latest. My hope is on Friday but the pessimist says Monday.
Time will tell.

Old blog, same thoughts

2007-10-08T00:18:00.001+09:00

Found this blog on my computer-its about two weeks old, but still relevant. Reading these is actually really good for me because it helps me to remember things I truly had almost forgotten. It seems I've found another form of existence validation.

I was grading some writing essays the other day while listening to my Ipod at work and I was struck how certain music could take any moment and make it feel more cinematic than it really is. As the wave of melancholy swept over me, everything the student wrote was somehow more profound. Even the red marker with which I was grading became symbolic and the whole thing seemed very moving. The song was "Flint, for the Naysayers and Unemployed" and the line "I pretend to try, even if I try alone" hit at just the right time. In reality, the whole thing meant nothing but it was kind of cool.
Well, I found a spot in my apartment-literally next to the door-where I can get 1 bar of wireless internet for around 5 minutes max. This is completely illogical that it should have a time limit but it seems to. It is just enough to check my email. I am writing this blog in a text editor right now in hopes that I will be able to post in when time presents itself.
I've been thinking a lot lately about things I miss in the States-and there's a lot-but this image keeps popping into my mind. I'm somewhere in a field but there is a forest there too and you can see all about. Its fall and its very cool and I'm wearing a denim jacket. The feeling is one of infinite possibilities; a feeling I have convinced myself I haven't felt in years. I don't know if the memory is fabricated but it's very potent in my mind.
I am truly enjoying my time spent here but I know that when I come back to everything I know it will all wear a welcoming haze of newness.

Slide whistle hippie drop out

2007-10-08T00:00:00.000+09:00

What an interesting weekend.
It all started with this weird guy at J&Js. J&Js is the bar that all the POLY people go to. Not a bad place, kind of a homey feel and they have this Bubble Bobble game that Josh and play and he regularly beats me at.
Anyway, this was a normal Friday night. I was thinking how tired I always am but everyone seems to go out anyway and seeing people from work at J&Js when you walk in is about as surprising as seeing Conan O'Brien on TV and thinking about how tall he is. So, the night was normal in other words-but alas it was not to be. There were two white people in the bar not affiliated with us-this was strange to begin with. One of them was kind of alright. The other did not attempt to make contact with us but instead proceeded to drink by himself and look kind of eavesdroppy. Eventually, he pulls out a tin whistle from his backpack-it looks like a metal recorder, basically. He starts improvising on this thing in the middle of a crowded bar. They play hip-hop in there so it wasn't too audible but it drew MANY stares nonetheless. He went on like this for a long time and then pulled out a slide whistle and did it all over again. The whole time we just thought it was hilarious. He was in his own world; a world I would never want to inhabit where hippies improvise music all day long and trolls dance along to it.

Fast forward a bit to my first noraebang (Korean karaoke) experience ever-taking place on the same night. It was way different than I expected-you get an individual room for your party for a paltry sum and all the songs are synced to videos that actually don't go with them. The videos end abruptly when the song ends and people on screen sing along to songs that don't match. Still cool. Anyway, somebody invited this guy to go with us and he has the tambourine out (they provide each room with two mics and two tambourines in case you really wanna go Stevie Nicks with it). Hes going insane on this thing for a good twenty minutes just playing along to every song. I guess that's what I'd be doing if I was out with a bunch of people I didn't know and couldn't talk to. Somehow he loses the tambourine and starts drumming on his thighs. He is beating himself pretty hard in time with the music. I laughed a lot, I will admit and somehow he disappeared after another twenty minutes. I was actually relieved because I didn't really like him. Anyone who would just do that in front of people he didn't know must have a problem of some sort.

Saturday, Andrew and I hiked a smaller mountain-Achasan-and it felt really good. We made some plans for future weekends and I hope we go through with them. After that I had a relaxing evening alone at home, which seemed somehow lacking because nobody was getting all up in my business playing tambourine and slide whistle.

Sunday was typical Seoul-style relaxation. We went to this old Japanese prison on the north side of the city and took in a bit of history, although not much because it was 80% written in Korean. One highlight was this one random cell which had wax figures depicting a Korean rebel being beaten by a Japanese officer. The Japanese officers back was to the door of the cell and his uniform was covered in TONS of dry spit. Apparently, people became so consumed by nationalism at the sight of this wax depiction they resorted to spitting on this mannequin. I found this kind of cool actually. It was weird to be in some of the cells and think that people died there; good thing I don't believe in ghosts cause I bet it was rife with them. They have conventions in this place I'm sure; its got a creepy vibe I'd like to see at night.

I realize the first story I told makes it sound like white people always talk to each other here and THAT IS NOT TRUE AT ALL. I saw two white girls at a random subway station today, even stood next to them on the train and nothing was said. Maybe its cause they were Canadian-I heard them say "oot." Its not bad that we don't talk, if they did I'd probably judge them for it or something.

Oh, the worst news of all is that my Ipod broke on Thursday. This is not a terrible thing by itself except that I had all my music on there and it wasn't backed up because I'm a hard drive dictator and could not spare the room I thought. Big mistake. So, when I get my Ipod fixed it will be empty. I can't help but think this happened because I got it out of a dumpster. Also, last weekend Andrew made a joke about not having my music backed up. Luckily I believe in coincidences (strongly so) or I might think he did it.

Ani-o mayonesa

2007-09-30T12:43:00.000+09:00

So much has happened, so little internet connection with which to explain it all.
Last week was Chuseok, or Korean thanksgiving. Folks go out to visit their families and get the ubiquitous chuseok gift sets (a month's supply of SPAM, yes!) The bonus is that we got three days off from school; but I didn't really go anywhere.
I was sick for the weekend so that sucked. The good news is that I got better by Monday pretty much and didn't even have to go to the doctor; I think its the magic of healthy Korean food or something like that. Tuesday Andrew, Josh and I hiked a mountain in Bukhansan National Park. Very beautiful views of the city to be had, but an unbelievable amount of people were hiking. I was hoping for some isolation, but this is a city of 12 million after all-there was none to be had. There were mountain springs littered throughout the trail which was cool, especially coz I only brought one water bottle and I like to drink a lot when i hike. It took 6 hours total and was incredibly draining, all the more so because Josh and I had McDonalds to eat. I feel like a real tool going in that place because I think all the Koreans must be thinking "oh, an American in McDonalds-is this the only place they like to eat?" We got the waeguk (foreigner) special which is anything on the menu for a discount simply because your white. I'm only half kidding. So, the point is: the climb hurt. And we didn't get to see any raccoon dogs like they advertised. Damn. Still a good hike. I hope to do more. Andrew and I were scheduled to climb Achasan today but its raining.
On Wednesday, I went to the DMZ which was ok. I got to go in one of the tunnels the North Koreans dug to reach the South and see North Korea from a tower. They also take you to this train station which they recently built. They keep talking about how you can take a train to Pyeongyang in North Korea but its simply not true. They have the signs and everything but there is NO TRAIN RUNNING. The tour guide said they are just optimistic. They showed us a video on it all too and made it sound like reunification was about ten days away. Gains have been made, its true but don't expect one Korea anytime soon. The whole thing was trying to be very positive. They actually had a section of the museum dedicated to showing how the DMZ was actually a really good place for wildlife. ==========>
The rest of the week was short and school is getting better. I really like 90% of my classes and can deal with the ones I don't. Its also a lot less work to do here; its quite a change from Holt, although Holt was a lot more fulfilling on a variety of levels.
Last up, I got some speakers from the Electronics District for 27,000 won and they are nice. Its been nice to actually be able to listen to music not from headphones and have it sound decent.
Well, I need to eat and shower. If only I could do both at the same time...

It's always rainy in Seoul (watch yo mouth)

2007-09-18T12:39:00.000+09:00

It's another beautiful overcast rainy day here in Seoul. It rains pretty much every other day, which I don't mind overall except for the walk to work. Today it is pretty much pouring and I'm pretty sure the Han River is going to flood mildly. Whoever invented umbrellas is a complete fool because they simply don't work for 40% of your body. Everything above my knees (except for my extended forearms) is dry, but the rest is soaked. This is no way to live.
A note to my homies: This blog is read by young and old alike-most notably my grandparents and former high school students. To this end, I must keep it G-rated (or at least PG). I had to delete two comments in the last two days because they contained references that while I found funny others might not. So I apologize if your comment was deleted; trust me, I laughed at it first. I would of course appreciate more future comments as long as they meet my decency standards.

Shopping trip, Korea style

2007-09-16T22:33:00.000+09:00

Today Andrew (a former teacher from POLY and an all-around cool guy) and I went to Dongdaemun on a shopping trip. On the list: Engrish shirts, a cheap turntable and Korean records.
Dongdaemun is a giant stadium just packed with permanent used stalls. Its kind of like a thrift store but a lot dirtier and more expensive.
We got off decently cheap although some people tried to screw us-one older guy wanted $100 for a piece of junk turntable. Its funny but some people in Korea seem to have an aversion to selling things to white folks. Another guy wanted $10 per record. The female vendors seemed to be the nicest.
Then we went to this 9 story mall across the street comprised of tons of individual vendors. This is one of five such malls in a square mile area. I got 3 awesome shirts with amazing slogans like "shoot your friends" or "we are the man!!" I will be utterly proud to wear them.
Afterward we went to this food court with a Lotteria (like a Korean McDonalds, even though they have actual McDonalds). I got a bulgogi burger and chicken set (that's combo to you Westerners). It came with a piece of fried chicken instead of fries. It made me feel kinda ill.
I'm really missing nature right now and am hoping to get into the mountains soon. I'm not going to Vietnam for Chusok because it fell through and I won't have the internet for a while still. I'm doing this at my friend Josh's apartment.
That's really not any way to end a piece of writing, but alas there it is.

Just a word up

2007-09-13T12:13:00.000+09:00

Just to let you all know, I moved to a new apartment two days ago. Its bigger and closer to school so overall, its a good move. However, I know longer get free wireless internet. This means I have to set it up at my place and before I can do this I need an alien registration card. I have to wait to get this until next Monday so the internet is at least a week away. While I'm not to happy about this, there's unfortunately nothing I can do. So, if you feel like communicating with me, email is the only way to do it as I cannot use IChat or Skype or what have you.
Some coworkers and I are planning a trip to Vietnam for the Korean holiday of Chusok which is not next week but the week after. It sounds like a good time.
Lately, I've been watching Twin Peaks Season 2 at night and wow that show was good. The second season is considerably more warped than the first which I like.
Linus, you need to go get it.

Koreans and the environment

2007-09-08T11:58:00.000+09:00

Korea has a much smaller environmental footprint than the US (not just due to its size either) and that is for two reasons: the nation is younger with a younger infrastructure and the government has championed energy efficient policies even going so far as to support a conspiracy theory to enforce these ideals (see below).
1. Lights
Pretty much all public lights in Korea are on timers. When you walk up the hallway stairs to my apartment, the lights turn on in succession. Back in the States, my apartment hallway was lit 24/7. In addition, the only light bulbs here are fluorescent. They just don't sell anything else. Hmmm...I wonder if that would benefit any other nation? Then again, people in the US would just whine that they had to pay $5 per bulb instead of 79 cents.
2. Water temperature
Water heaters in Korea are not always on. There is a thermostat on the wall that allows you to turn on your hot water when you want it. This is fine for showers but becomes bothersome if you just want to wash your face or hands. Probably worth it overall though.
3. Air conditioners/fans
Air conditioning is surprisingly common in Korea due to the prevalence of cheap units made by LG. However, ALL units come with a 1 hour shut-off timer. You don't have to use it, but pretty much all Koreans do. This is because they are worried about "fan death." This conspiracy theory says that if you sleep with a fan or air conditioner on you could die of paralysis. There are reported cases of this. Even better, the government has not denied the reality of such cases because they want to nurture belief in fan death to decrease energy use. Its a built-in ideology that makes Koreans shut their fans off after an hour. Questionably ethical, but perhaps the ends justify the means?
4. Heating
Most floors in Korea are wood (in apartments at least). These floors have radiant heating, controlled by the same thermostat as the water heater. Radiant heating pumps hot water under your floor boards and the heat is felt on your feet and also radiates up through the room. It is incredibly efficient and often recommended for "green" houses in the US. Here it is the norm.
5. Final thoughts
All this might sound really great and in many ways it illustrates how a little government intervention can change people's stubborn habits for the betterment of the collective world. However, Koreans are far from perfect. Their culture is just as consumer driven as ours and as a result they love to drive cars, especially SUVs-although nothing as atrocious as a Hummer. Many do use Korea's excellent transit system, but the roads are often congested in this city of 10 million. So, Korea is on the right track but big business is still hampering progress in certain areas just like it has in the US (namely, in the automotive field).
This entry is basically a persuasive essay on environmental regulations; I apologize. I've been teaching too many writing classes this week.

The week goes on (and a little Engrish)

2007-09-07T00:22:00.000+09:00

So much to say. Korea is amazing. It succeeds on so many levels. For one, Seoul is just a cool city with a lot of people and things happening all night. I have gone out for either drinks or dinner every night this week with coworkers. I anticipated spending a lot more time alone and kind of being insular as I tend to do, but that has not surfaced yet. I also thought I would be freaking out (whether that manifested itself as either depression or some other general nostalgia or sadness) but that has not shown up yet either. Sometimes I will just look in the mirror and remind myself that I am in a foreign country and I get kind of excited.
School is getting better. I am getting more used to my classes and I have some seriously stellar classes. I have a class of first graders that are perhaps some of the cutest kids I've ever seen-and the smartest. This one girl is so funny that literally everything she says makes me laugh-and she's five. Elementary kids here are crazy. They like to smell your arms, share their snacks and hold your hand; as a high school teacher this took me aback a bit. I'm getting more used to it.
My sixth grade classes are great too-super mature and nice kids. In between I have some random hard classes: a 1st grade class with a set of twin boys that basically appear to be completely out of it 90% of the time, fifth graders who won't speak and some sixth graders with the same affliction. In addition, I'm teaching science to some of these kids which requires significant preparation for me. The 5th grade science book is perhaps the most convoluted and irrationally organized thing I've seen in a while. Why a 5th grader needs to know the percentage composition of the troposphere is beyond me-I was literally skipping paragraphs as we went over it in class. The whole setup is very limiting to me; if I hadn't taught in the States before it would be different. You don't get a lot of freedom and there is no incentive for going beyond the bare minimum. I don't have time to do projects or group work and it simply isn't expected. I'm hoping after I get more of the procedural end of the job down I can do more; but I'm also telling myself that its okay to settle. I could never be the teacher I was back home here and that's okay I guess.
I've also been adjusting to Korean culture and noticed a few things.
-I had a major misconception that I would be able to speak English over here to most people.
Whether eating, shopping, walking etc 99% of people in my day speak Korean, not English. I point at things and get by saying "thank you" as often as possible in the classic Korean inflection (you kind of peak your voice as you bow your head).
-Koreans are up late.
Restaurants in Seoul are usually packed at 11pm. Kids are out that late too on the streets. Never mind that they have school at 7:00am.
-Crosswalks here are really long.
I wait 4 minutes to cross a big street near my apartment on the way to work.
-Koreans hate the rain.
If its remotely cloudly, Koreans carry umbrellas or hats. Rumor is that they believe acid in the rain will cause baldness.
-English usage here is incredibly pervasive yet flawed.
TONS of Koreans wear shirts with flawed English on them. Stores will often have English in the title. Imagine if the reverse were true in the US. I have seen a few great examples of Engrish-my favorite so far was found on a hanger in my apartment. I can just imagine the conversation.
Advertising rep 1: "What is the English word for someone who has discerning taste in clothes?"
Advertising rep 2: "Ummm....an egoist."
My kids have pencil cases with choice phrases like "Be my special friend. I want to feel your love" or "The best time is in the sun time!"

First day of school

2007-09-04T00:20:00.001+09:00

What a day. Normally, teachers are supposed to get a week's training and observation. But the school is short-staffed right now due to too many leaving at the same time so I had to teach on my first day. I had 1.5 hours to prepare 8 lessons. Amazingly, it worked somehow. This was easily one of the most stressful days of my career; I almost can't believe it happened. It was the first day of the semester so it was brand new for everyone. Some thoughts:
1. There's a reason I chose to teach high school.
I can relate to high schoolers. They listen to you and respect you in an adult way. This does not happen with first graders. The trend here is to call you "teacher" not your name (which is first names by the way, so I am usually Chris teacher or just teacher; Chris is also a funny name to them-EVERY SINGLE CLASS LAUGHED AT IT) I found myself very tired of the first graders within minutes. They are incredibly cute and funny but they don't stop talking or moving. It drove me insane. And, their comprehension is simply not what I'm used to.
2.That being said, 6th graders are awesome.
The 1st half of the day is 2nd/1st graders for me. The second half is 6th graders. These kids are awesome. I have the highest ranked 6th grade class in the academy for three sections and these kids are amazing. They speak English just like I do and know more about essay writing than some of my 10th grade US students did (no offense meant to any former students reading). After my first four hours I thought I might fall asleep right there or die, the next four hours were like the touch of a familiar lover. Oh, I'm getting risqué now-but thats how happy these 6th graders made me.
3. We have ten minutes for dinner.
I'm not even kidding. I didn't finish my food and I was almost late to class. Wow, that's new.
4. Planning for this job is quite simple.
Did I mention I planned 8 SECTIONS IN 1.5 HOURS? It took me hours to do two sections at Holt. Everything is laid out for you here; you just decide how you want to do it. Mostly what I did today was learn procedures; it will only get easier.
5. I need to change my shoe options here.
I heard some teachers leave their dress shoes at school and wear tennis shoes in. I need to do this and will start now.
6. Teachers here are pretty cool.
They have been very friendly to me; I 've been out with them tonight and last night meeting more and more of the staff.
7. The food is across the board amazing.
I had bibimbap finally tonight. It needed more bean paste but I still loved it. It was also only 4000won which is like 4 dollars. I had a sandwich for lunch today from Joe's Sandwich and Coffee which sounds American but is not. They just like to use English titles for stuff here. I got the spicy chicken sandwich which featured chicken, hot Korean barbeque sauce, Korean pickles (way different from American pickles), fried egg and a lot of mayo. You all know how much I love mayo and that was an experience but seriously the sandwich was so good. Its like everything has this Korean twist and I love it. I heard you can even get kimchi pizza. Might be a little much.
8. Richard was famous over here.
My friend Richard got me this job and he is a freaking celebrity. My 6th grade class said I reminded them of him (which I knew was an immense compliment from what I've heard about him over here) and when I told them he was my friend and got me this job they thought I was a celebrity too. This text doesn't do justice to their expressions.

My first Korean meal

2007-09-02T13:37:00.000+09:00

I ventured out of the apartment today around noon. I walked around looking for a restaurant and a store to buy some things at. I bought paper towel and soap at a store real close to my apartment. A restaurant would prove to be more difficult.
I walked around for a while. How would I be able to tell if a restaurant worker could speak English? How would I communicate? I passed probably 20 restaurants in around 20 minutes or less. I did not go in any. I was basically scared but I knew I had to do this eventually.
I turned around to go a different way. I saw a restaurant that looked decent with people in it. I walked in. Nobody spoke English.
I awkwardly sat down according to the hostess's instructions. She pointed at the wall. There was a menu on it with about 10 options-entirely written in Korean. I said "Bibimbap?" She said no and pointed at the menu. I said "what is this?" pointing to the first option. She assumed thats what I ordered.
No big deal, I figured-I eat just about anything, especially Korean food. I was just glad this SUPER awkward exchange was over. I don't believe I have ever not been able to talk with someone before so this was unique stuff. My food came. It was a cold buckwheat noodle soup with apple slices, kimchi, egg and cucumber. The sauce was delicious-some kind of sesame flavor. It was served with hot chili paste and more kimchi. I normally do not like cold things but this was good. And when I say cold I literally mean the broth was a SLUSH when it arrived. It was like a kimchi sesame slurpee. But a good one. I am really going to like eating here.
The whole meal though I could not relax. I felt like everyone was looking at me; watching me eat. Was I eating the noodles right? Should I have cut them more (using the provided SCISSORS on the table)? Was it impolite to slurp them up while they hung from my mouth?
The hostess came back and said something. I said "I don't know, I'm sorry." Somehow I felt like she was telling me to stir it up (which I had). She pointed at my finished bowl of kimchi. I assumed this meant are you done but it really meant do you want more? I said yes and got about 3 times more. I put it in the soup regardless.
I finished about 20 minutes later and was happy to leave. I paid my bill and said my "annyong haseyo." I'm glad I went out to do it alone but next time it would be a lot nicer to have an English speaking companion. At least I conquered my fear.

This is really weird

2007-09-02T08:59:00.000+09:00

So, I'm sitting in an apartment that is now mine for a year. It certainly doesn't feel like home yet. I need to unpack my stuff and clean selected areas of it. The previous occupants left some very random things: a tub of chili paste, four umbrellas, used sandals and a HUGE bag of brown sugar. We're talking copious amounts here.
In addition, I need to pick up a lot of stuff like a fan, towel, sheet, etc. I'm not quite sure how to go about doing this because there's the issue of who out there can understand me. I'm hoping a lot of people can. I'll definitely need to do some exploring today but that scares me a little. I need to find myself a nice big bowl of bibimbap to start off my day right. The only problem is:
EVERYTHING HERE IS WRITTEN IN KOREAN.
The airport was bilingual; the roads are bilingual. Stores, signs, adverts and products are not. I have a bunch of cleaning products here that I'm pretty sure are made by American companies however just have cute graphics and Korean on them. I can't operate my air conditioner because its written in Korean too. I hope i can deduce what a restaurant is.
I woke up at 8:20 today after going to bed at 7 so I think 13 hours should cure me of any jet lag. So far, I feel good-physically.
Emotionally I feel good too although I feel so out of sorts you can't even imagine. Today is going to be a weird day because I don't go to school tomorrow; which means I won't meet anyone until tomorrow which means today is going to be very insular and solitary.
How was the flight?
Well it actually wasn't bad at all. The length (14 hours) was the worst part. You're just thinking wow another 12 hours. I think the reason I have been hating flying so much the last 4 years is that the only places I go are Sarasota and Omaha, which both use primarily small planes. These planes get bounced around and turbulence is the norm, not the exception. Not on a 747. These things are like moving houses. All you do is watch movies and eat basically. And sleep which is next to impossible. The neck rests are never comfortable. I slept probably 2 hours total in little 30 minute bursts. Considering I was really tired this is not much.
I watched like 5 movies and a bunch of TV shows. I barely read or listened to music. Interesting. I fell asleep during 300; I didn't want to see it in theatres and apparently not even on an airplane.
Well, feel free to contact me as the next couple weeks are going to be a very strange time for me indeed.

Google is too smart for its own good (I've arrived)

2007-09-01T18:48:00.000+09:00

I really ought to be sleeping. I haven't slept in about 24 hours. My sense of balance is kind of wavering in and out.
But I just wanted to post and say that I arrived in Korea about 3 hours ago. After a long car ride into the city, I am in my new apartment. I am ready to go to bed.
More will follow tomorrow when I can type and think successfully.

What's really blowing my mind right now is that I'm using somebody's wireless internet in my apartment and the Google blogger page is picking up that its Korea and automatically translating the page into Korean. I can't undo it. Luckily I remember basically what buttons/links to press so this should work out for the time being.