Last Night in Korea

And all of a sudden, it's my last night in Korea. Wait, what? In twelve hours, I'll be on my way to Incheon Airport with two suitcases and a backpack, and in twenty-four, I'll be landing in San Francisco. I'll be home so very soon.

I haven't gotten around to blogging as much as I'd intended to this past week, so here are a few quick updates:

1. After bumming around in Seoul for a few days, I went to Goesan for Fulbright Orientation where I led four workshops over a few days. Two workshops were for discussing identity: one to support LGBTQ-identifying ETAs and another to support Asian-Americans. The next workshop was to introduce different methods and resources for people who want to continue studying Korean on their own throughout the year. Many ETAs showed up to this talk, which was very encouraging. The last workshop was for all fifty secondary school ETAs; it was a crash course on how to plan a unit. Honestly, if there's one thing I can say about teaching, it's that one hour-long lesson isn't nearly enough for any topic in education. But just as important as preparation is practice, plain and simple. I've been pretty encouraged by the enthusiasm and earnestness I've seen in the new ETA class. I'm confident that they'll do a great job this coming year.

Katelyn, Tracey, Seijin, and Jemarley taking a break from Fulbright duties to play Bananagrams at a local makkeoli bar!

Judith's and my unknown reunion!

And I know I've already said this, but I'm especially excited about the teacher who will replace me at CSHS, Courtney, because she is determined to be exactly the kind of teacher I think is most effective: passionate, accessible, and involved in students' lives.

Unrelated: to my great surprise, one of the new ETAs, Judith, is actually a family friend! Her parents have been good friends with my parents ever since my family lived in Philadelphia (nearly thirty years ago)! And, awkwardly enough, we've even met. Four years ago, our parents' church had a reunion in Philadelphia, both Judith and I attended. So we met, took photos, and even played Bananagrams together! We obviously didn't leave very lasting impressions on each other, since both of us thought we were meeting for the first time last week. I think it's hilarious! The world of Taiwanese-Americans can be very small, indeed.

2. During the weekend, a typhoon was sweeping by Korea, and it brought a lot of rain with it. I'd planned to go hiking with a friend, but instead, we went to Cheongju, a smallish-city with not too much to do. However, it was still bigger than rural Goesan. (Aside from a new cafe/jam space on the outskirts of town, where I karaoke-d for hours on Friday night with new friends, there's nothing to do in Goesan.) Katelyn and I watched a movie, ate great 칼국수 and 빙수 and explored Cheongju's own "mural village", Suamgol, in the midst of a drizzle. It wasn't the most exciting thing to do, but after being cooped up in the marble halls of Jungwon University for four days, it was excellent.

Katelyn and me in the colorful Suamgol, Cheongju. Brownie points if you can spot what's wrong with this picture...

4. I spent a good chunk of my last full day in Seoul running errands, and it was more than a little frustrating. I had to cancel my phone contract and my bank account. Long story short, it was more of a hassle than I'd expected, mostly because I had to do almost every transaction in Korean! I'd thought that big branches of phone stores and banks would have some competent English speakers in the capital city, but that was not the case. Even the resident English speaker at the bank tried explaining the procedure to me for about five minutes before switching back to Korean. Ugh, Koreal life. I managed to get these two simple tasks done in three hours, and in the meantime I picked up a few useful vocabulary words, such as 계좌 ("account") and 해지하다 ("to cancel"). Whew.

Catan! Photo taken by Katelyn

5. And as for my last night in South Korea? I hung out in Hongdae and played Settlers of Catan with my friends (역시... I mean, what else? It's what I did on my "last night" in the US two years ago.). Ooh, we also got dessert from Ben's Cookies. Their milk chocolate-orange cookies are amazing!

It was a chill and really enjoyable evening. There's nothing else I'd have rather done!

Hm... so how do I feel? In all honesty, this night doesn't feel at all different from any other night I've spent hanging out with friends in Seoul. I have a feeling that the reality of leaving won't hit me until I'm en route to the airport, or maybe not even until I've boarded the plane. Nostalgia doesn't kick in as early for me as it seems to for other people. But that's not to say I'm not cherishing every last moment I have here. Even though those moments are dwindling, why waste any of them dwelling on the very fact that they are? Too meta and unproductive for me.

Next time you hear from me, I'll either be at the airport or at home.

안녕하세요!

머리스타일, 놀라워 - Meolistyle: No, La, Woah!

JH got up from his end of the table and sat down again with his tray, right across from me.

"Talking is fun," he said. Boom. Day made.

Meanwhile, JM was eating with his eyes trained on the television show playing on the screen in the cafeteria. The show was some sort of reality TV filler that followed the members of one of Korea's most famous boy bands, Infinite. I like one of their members, Hoya, who starred in Reply 1997, but I don't listen to any of their music (1). As we watched them do vaguely interesting things, my eyes were drawn to their hair. All of the members have pretty flamboyant personal style and fashion sense (though I definitely don't think any of them has any control over his public image). One in particular (maybe SungJong?) was sporting a head of singularly unattractive bubble-gum pink hair. It made me laugh out loud, and I looked at JH.

"JH, would you ever want to have pink hair?"

"Never," he said.

"Well, then, if you could dye your hair any color, what color would you want?"

JH thought for a minute, and his eventual answer surprised me: "Gray! Like an old man."

I dig it. (from Pinterest)

I think that could work. Instead of gray, though, I told JH that he might want to go for silver. It's been done!

I also told JH that I'm thinking about cutting all of my hair off, shaving it really close, as it was when I first came to Korea two years ago. The reason is that my black belt test in taekgyeon is in a few weeks, and I'm getting really tired of having my hair in my face all the time when I'm trying to concentrate on my kicks or forms. I use a bandana or a headband to keep my bangs in check, but it's still 불편해 (inconvenient)!

Showing JH and JM my really, really long 앞머리, I quipped that it was so long I could almost braid it. "Do you know what a braid is?" I asked. They didn't. I very, very rarely see any Koreans with braided hair (땋은 머리). I'm not really sure why... it's just not a thing here, I guess. Women always have their hair down. And men generally don't sport long hair, anyway.

This reminded JH of an old Korean custom. He explained that in ancient times, Korean men and women both had long hair and kept it up: women had unbelievably elaborate braids and updos, while men had top knots (상투) (2). According to JH, people would never, ever cut their hair, because they considered their hair to be a part of their ancestral heritage. I find that idea very intriguing.

But then, so the story goes, the Japanese came and cut off all the men's top knots. It's more than a bit symbolic, as Japanese colonialism really did sever Korean culture from its roots. Ever since, Koreans have had more "modern" hairstyles.

The picture I showed my stylist.

And today, hair is big. There's no question about it. Hair salons are everywhere; there are four or five in a ten-minute radius around my house. It is extremely common for anyone to perm and dye their hair, no matter their gender or age. I've seen toddlers in barbershop high chairs and old ladies getting their latest ajumma perm. My taekgyeon master permed his hair last week; on Friday it was straight, and on Monday it was a tangle of loose curls. Of course, people my age like to follow trends, and as far as I can tell, right now dark brown is in, but simple cuts are not. For guys specifically, they're asking for something called 투블럭 ("two-block"), which is equivalent, I think, to an undercut. The sides are shaved close and the top is left to its own devices, sometimes with the help of a perm or wax.

Now, one year ago, I was pretty set against ever changing the super-straight, super black natural state of my hair. In a nutshell, I didn't want to be a trend-follower, I didn't want to possibly contribute to the stereotype that Asians prefer a look that is more natural for Caucasians, and I didn't want to send a message to my students that I was at all dissatisfied with my natural hair. But I did want to change my hair, simply out of... I don't know, call it an early-twenties desire to color outside the lines every so often.

In February this year, I dyed my hair brown. I was literally dragged into Punk Shalom by my friend Katelyn, who told the folks there that I wanted a change and that they could make it happen however they liked. It was, in fact, a very fun experience. When I returned to school the following March, I got double-takes and plenty of compliments.

Before, During, After!

So by last week, almost four months later, the roots were growing out and everything was just getting too long, and I decided I needed another haircut. But then I toyed with the idea of perming (파마) instead. It's another way to keep my bangs out of my eyes, and also... I won't deny it, it's popular.

Thus, I brought paperwork to a salon near my house that I'd been to once before and corrected my students' speech drafts for three hours while sporting curlers and a head saturated with chemicals. Yeah, a perm takes a long time. The result was, as you can see... wavy.

It's not pink or silver, but it's certainly crazier than anything I've ever done with hair -- and that includes bleaching it myself in the dorm bathroom three years ago.

Did I worry this time about compromising my values? No. Do I have qualms about how my friends, family, co-workers, or students will react? Not in the slightest. But am I now wondering about how closely hair is connected with identity, and considering how changes in my appearance may reflect changes in myself that two years of living in Korea have wrought? Yes.

And am I also considering letting my hair continue to grow out until I can make a respectable top knot?

Yes.

- - -
1) This is one of Infinite's most recent music video releases, for a song called "Last Romeo".

My reaction: Eh... 별로. Unfortunately, this video is the epitome of what is popular in K-pop today: angsty, strangely-albeit-immaculately-dressed men pointing at the camera and dancing really well in dimly lit halls, reaching longingly toward the same forgettable girl only to have the entire library explode into confetti from a thousand fake books.

2) Speaking of top knots and taekgyeon, 관장님 told me that when taekgyeon players during the dynastic periods sparred, sometimes the winner would be determined by which man could hit -- rather than the face -- his opponent's top knot first. Illustrations of taekgyeon being played in bygone eras show men with very long queues in the ring, while those who watched wore their hair up. (Actually, he also said that only married men sported 상투...)

P.S. Title of this post comes from an Akdong Musician song, 가르마 (Hair Part): 머리스타일 하나로 다른 사람이 되다니 정말 놀라워. Translation: You can become a different person just by changing your hairstyle, it's amazing.

Geoje Island and a Day of Public Transit Fails

A butterfly! (나비) I can't even remember the last time I've seen a butterfly this close. Well, there are dead butterflies in a display case by the biology department at school...

Last weekend, I took a trip down south to Geoje Island (거제도). It's Korea's third largest island, but it's not actually very far from the mainland, being easily accessible by a couple long bridges. Geoje City, which is coextensive with the main island plus a few smaller ones surrounding it, has a population of about a quarter million and relies a lot on tourism (thanks to gorgeous natural scenery) and shipbuilding (because of its seaside location).

Several of my students are from Geoje, and I guess that fact duped me into thinking that it wasn't so far away from Changwon. Well, if you're driving and you can cross the new bridge that connects from Busan, it takes about an hour. But when I traveled to the island last weekend... well, let's just say I severely overestimated the power of public transportation. Several times. Story time!

On Saturday afternoon, I rode the city bus for an hour to get from Changwon to the southern bus terminal in Masan, which had the most frequent buses going to Geoje. I actually missed the stop, and the bus driver kicked me off the bus when he reached the end of the line. Fortunately, I only had to walk back for about five minutes. I got a ticket for Geoje (about 13,000KRW) and got comfortable for a two-hour bus ride. When I arrived at the Gohyun (고현) Bus Terminal, one of several on the island, it was about 4:30pm. From here, I had to figure out how to get to the vacation house (called a "pension/펜션" in Konglish) my friends were staying at.

This pension happened to be down at the southern end of the island, while Gohyun was in the north. According to my phone's map application, I could either take a city bus that went around the entire perimeter of the island, totaling two hours, or I could take three buses (transfering twice) that cut through the middle of it, for ninety minutes. Foolishly, I opted for the latter. I've been spoiled by my city's well-run bus system, and I can only say that Geoje's buses are not nearly as reliable. Backpack on my shoulders and a birthday cake I bought for my friend in hand, I hopped on my first bus of many.

Checking my phone's navigation on the bus, I was instructed to get off in the middle of nowhere for my first transfer... I found myself at a bus stop that consisted of a sign by the road. It didn't even have a bench, and instead of a schedule of bus arrival times or destinations, it had a phone number that you could call. After waiting for about fifteen minutes, I tried the number, and a robot told me a bus would arrive in three minutes. But it wasn't the bus I was supposed to take. Also, it didn't come in three minutes. It arrived after another fifteen minutes, and by that point I was wondering if perhaps the city buses ran on a different schedule on weekends. Since it was the only bus I'd seen for the past half an hour, and since my cell phone battery was getting dangerously low, I took my chances and got on.

Knowing, of course, that it wasn't the right bus, I asked the driver how I could get to Hammok (함목), which was my final destination. He told me to get off at Dongbu (동부) and take another bus from there. Dongbu was on the west side of the island; I was being forced into a detour that ended up amounting to more time than if I had just taken the 2-hour island-circumnavigating bus. Anyway, I got off at Dongbu -- it was about 5:45 -- and was soon confused again because I couldn't find the bus stop. A nice lady who ran the local convenience store explained that her store was essentially the bus stop; a printout of bus times had been posted on the window. She was kind enough to explain when the next bus would arrive (6:25pm), but didn't let me recharge my phone when I asked. I was forced to shut it off to save my battery from going completely dry.

After waiting for longer than I could patiently bear, a bus finally came! I hopped on, asked the driver if he was going to Hammok, and got a jumbled reply that I couldn't exactly decipher until after I'd found a seat. I purposely sat down next to a map that showed the bus routes and realized that the one I'd boarded wasn't going to stop at Hammok. It would, however, go to the two stops before and after Hammok. I realized that the bus driver had told me to get off one stop before Hammok, at Hakdong (학동). So after another half hour on the bus, winding through pretty hills at dusk, I hopped off at Hakdong, watched the bus drive away, and realized that I was definitely not in the right place.

It occured to me, after having closely studied the map and geography of the island during my desperate phone use on the first bus, that where I was currently standing in relation to the sea didn't put me as close to Hammok as I'd thought. I asked the first people I saw, a couple, how close I was to Hammok. The lady shook her head and said that it would take at least half an hour walking. The man suggested I take a taxi. I gritted my teeth and said that I'd try walking. The lady said that perhaps if another bus came by as I walked, I could easily flag it down and hop on.

So I started walking on the road. And it was a real road, meant only for cars, no sidewalk or pedestrian path of any sort. Tons of cars passed me, as well as a few trucks and taxis... but not a single bus! So I kept walking, and walking, and walking... I came upon a roadside rest stop after twenty minutes. The woman looked at me like I was crazy when I asked her how much farther Hammok was, and then replied another fifteen minutes. I continued walking, and I briefly considered trying to hitchhike the rest of the way, but I figured that nobody would be familiar with the concept; maybe they'd just think I was giving them the thumbs-up (and a tired, peeved, pouty face to go with it). I wondered if I could trade a slice of birthday cake for a ride... and I kept walking. I walked for 4.5 kilometers. (I know because I checked on that freaking map app later.)

At 7:30pm, I finally reached Hammok and its very cute cluster of guesthouses and pensions right by the shore. I knew it was the right place because a peninsula of the island jutted out into the sea... and I also caught sight of the windmill on Windy Hill. Miraculously, when I turned on my phone, it was still at 2% battery life, so I called my friends and met up with them in time for a barbecue dinner. I was exhausted and extremely hungry, but my joy at finally meeting up with my friends made up for all of it. We ate, drank, and were merry, and also ate the birthday cake and made it a night almost worth a ridiculous day.

Of course, I was still really annoyed about my experience that day. I'm a big fan of public transportation and I always give it a chance in any city I'm visiting. But Geoje's buses completely failed me. I think even if I hadn't made any dumb foreigner mistakes, it would have taken me far too long to get to where I wanted to go.

Needless to say, for the rest of the weekend, my friends and I took taxis to every sightseeing spot on our itinerary.

The view of the pebble beach and the ocean from our pension!

Okay, so I know this post was boring. But I just needed to get it all out. Again. I already ranted about this in Korean on lang-8. More fun in the next post, I promise: Windy Hill and Camellia Island!

- - -

realize = 알아차리다.

거제도의 대중교통이 엉망이 되는걸 알아차렸다. I realized that Geoje's public transportation system is a mess.

overestimate = 과대평가하다.

그의 실력을 과대평가하지마라. Don't overestimate his abilities!

allow = 허락하다.

마트주인은 제 휴대폰 충전을 허락하시지 않았다. The shopowner didn't allow me to charge my phone.

at last = 마침내, 드디어.

마침내 펜션에 도착했다! I finally arrived at the pension!

indicate in writing = 적히다 (write down = 적다).

여기에는 버스시간표가 적혀있지 않다. The bus schedule isn't indicated here.

Black Hair, Brown Eyes

Two Koreal Life things today: I got my hair cut and I had to call the landlord about a leaking faucet. I'd like to think that these two opportunities to use my broken Korean in real-life situations makes up for the fact that, otherwise, I did absolutely nothing productive today.

First, the haircut. I'd been tempted for a while to "be frivolous", as a friend put it, and do something more off-the-wall with my hair. It seems that everywhere you look in Seoul, especially in Hongdae, people have their hair dyed, permed, and styled in crazy fashions, men and women alike. Many of my American friends have gone the same route and splurged on a new hairstyle.

On the other hand, I've got a bit of a complex when it comes to changing my hair, especially with regard to color. Yes, in college, I did bleach and dye my hair; it was a fantastic shade of maroon for several months. But ever since my hair returned to its normal black, I haven't thought about going back. I think a part of it has to do with being in Korea. I feel like I don't want to change my hairstyle these days because everyone does it, and maybe the way to be unique -- as an Asian -- here in Korea is to remain completely normal. Also, and this is more important, I can't shake the thought that the bleaching and perming that has become so ubiquitous has its roots in the culturally ingrained notion that Western faces and heads are more beautiful than natural Korean looks. Am I about to get very controversial? Sure.

In Korea, "white" is beautiful. A pale complexion is prized and many women go out of their way to prevent a tan. It doesn't surprise me that there is a prejudice toward a certain skin color, since this kind of look-ism exists in all cultures in different forms. But it's not just skin. The most beautiful Korean woman is not only pale, but also tall and skinny, and has large eyes and wavy brown hair. Look around at all the advertisements and posters featuring any of Korea's hundreds of music and TV personalities: the majority of them have faces and hair all perfectly sculpted to appear distinctly un-Asian.

Honestly, when I say that "white" is beautiful in Korea, I fully acknowledge the ambiguity of that statement: white is not just a skin color but also a race. And it seems to me that the beauty standards in Korea are greatly influenced by those of white-majority countries such as the US. Do Koreans explicitly want to look like white Americans? No, of course not. But American culture has such an undeniably strong presence in Korea that it's easy to see how our standards have rubbed off on theirs.

I wonder every day now, when I see beautiful Koreans walking down the street with unnatural hair, "What's wrong with straight and black?"

So there's my complex. I want to dye my hair because I think it would look cool and because it does seem like the kind of "when in Rome" thing to do while I have the opportunity. But I can't help but question: why would it look cool? Why do I want to do what all young Koreans do? Does changing my hair play into a kind of pervasive insecurity that Asians have over the way they look naturally? Does it reinforce the power of the US's (cross-)cultural hegemony?

Furthermore, I've thought about the message I send to my Korean students with my appearance. Perhaps they were surprised last September when the American English teacher they'd heard they were going to get turned out to be Asian (the assumption being, of course, that all Americans are white). But even after the novelty of an Asian-American English teacher wore off, I think I still managed to have an indirect influence on them. My co-teacher told me flat-out that, from what she could observe, my students felt more comfortable around me because I physically resembled them. That, in addition to my weird insistence on eating lunch with them and talking to them in between classes -- something the white Canadian English teacher who preceded me never did -- puts me more in the position of friend and possible role model than of aloof, classroom authority figure.

Thus, when I think about the complexities surrounding my identities as Asian and American and my role as a teacher, I realize that what I choose to do with my face, hair, and clothes says a lot to my students, maybe more than I've noticed or have cared to think. I don't have to just tell my students that they are already beautiful people no matter how they look, I can show them how to have black hair and rock it. It's similar to how, rather than simply tell my students that exercise is important, I can also run into them while working out at the school gym and show them how to do it. For my students' sake, perhaps it's better to represent the natural me and not give in to whatever the Mainstream Monster dictates is cool or beautiful.

Okay, I'll stop there. Let me just add that vanity is not even the issue here, although it is my decided lack of vanity -- plus lack of disposable income -- that persuaded me eventually to get a simple ($15) haircut instead of a ($100) perm-and-dye job today at a hip salon just a few minutes down the street called Ekihair.

Speaking of Tina Cohen-Chang... (from Glee Wikia)

Oh, yes, and the part of this story that is Koreal Life is the fact that I called ahead to place my appointment and chatted briefly with my hairdresser in what little Korean I know, and although I didn't understand every word, I managed to get my point across. For example, while listening absent-mindedly to the music playing in the salon, I realized so my shock that it was not PSY's original Gangnam Style being aired, but the Glee cover instead. I tried to explain this to my hairdresser, who had assumed that it was Hyun-a. (I thought: can't she tell that Jenna Ushkowitz's singing has an unmistakable American accent?) Eventually, I whipped out my phone to show her the video of Glee's performance of Gangnam Style and pointed out Tina, saying that she was an 입양한인 (Korean person adopted abroad).

In the end, although my hair turned out looking very average and not K-pop-star-awesome, I appreciated the chance to practice speaking Korean and use vocabulary and grammar that I've learned recently.

Second, the leaky faucet. I realized as soon as I called the landlord that I didn't know how to say "The faucet is leaking" in Korean, so I quickly looked it up. (싱크대 수도꼭지가 조금 물 새하고 있어요.) As I type this, he is in the kitchen fixing it up. I'm proud to say that all of our interactions have gone smoothly, despite them being in Korean. I think back to seven months ago, when I first arrived in Korea, and I realize that I wouldn't even have had the guts to call a landlord then, let alone the language skills to explain my problems, and do it politely on top of that. But now, I can. Hurrah!

번데기! Scrumptious Silkworms and Swatties

There isn't much to say here. 번데기 (beondegi) is a popular Korean street food that is quite literally boiled silkworm chrysalises. Not something an American is used to eating. I ate one.

I only did it on a dare, and it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't met some friendly and lively French people at the hostel where I was staying the night before. We and I mostly lazed around the hostel and chatted all day, and then we decided to maybe go out and sightsee something before the sun set, so we set off for Changdeokgung, an ancient Joseon Dynasty palace. I've been before, in the summer, but in January after a recent snowfall, the place seemed quite different. It was tranquil, with fewer people around, and snow crunching beneath our feet.

In front of Changdeokgung in the winter with friends from France and Korea.

The linguistic situation was quite interesting with our group. Julie, Aurelie, and another Julie were traveling together, and Ludovic was joining them from China, where he'd been studying Chinese. Ludovic also asked his Korean friend to join us; she had been in the same program as him in China. She then brought along her cousin. (They were both very generous and treated us a lot that afternoon.)

So, there were four French people, two Koreans, and myself wandering around the ancient palace, switching continually between French, Chinese, and Korean. We caved to English when the other three languages didn't work. As someone who enjoys studying languages, I felt like all those years spent in classrooms and cramming vocabulary and grammar actually paid off. For once, I got to communicate with other people in their own primary language rather than mine, and I really enjoyed it, even though it was hard work.

Beondegi in a cup. From the Korea Blog.

After wandering around the palace, Julie said that she wanted to try silkworms. It was part of her carpe diem attitude while in Korea. So, she got a cupful of them from a street vendor and spent a good five minutes psyching herself up to spear one on a toothpick and pop it in her mouth. As soon as she did, she spit it out! But since there was still a lot left, I told Ludovic, "J'en mangerai un si tu fais le même!" (I'll eat one if you do, too!) We got little beondegi on toothpicks and counted to three, and then ate them!

Well, to my surprise, the little brown thing was juicy. Warm silkworm juice squirted out as soon as I bit into it, and it was a supremely unpleasant feeling. It didn't actually taste bad at first, kind of like some sort of roasted meat. But after I swallowed it, a bitter and nasty aftertaste was left on my tongue. I washed it down with some candy that Aurelie had. Ludovic also spit his out. And... that was that! I ate bugs, you guys. In Korea. With French people. Who speak Chinese. The things you can do while you're abroad...

Julie with her cup of silkworms. Ludovic looks on in interest...

Cathy and me. She interpreted the entire evening's program!

Some last things of note: that evening (the 19th), I attended an event for Swarthmore alumni held at the Lotte Hotel. Our college president was touring Asia and stopped by to talk to alumni, some prospective students, and mostly parents of students about the college's vision and some plans for the future. The event was nice because I saw a few old faces and also because the food was excellent! There were about a hundred people present, and I think I might have been the only non-Korean under 30. Ha! But it really was nice to see a bunch of Swatties together again, especially Cathy, a current Senior from whom I hadn't heard for several months. It reminded me that yes, I do miss college. Quite a bit sometimes. But it's also time for me to move on, stop the pining, and get to work on making a future for myself.

J Kwon and me.

Speaking of seeing Swatties, I forgot to mention earlier that I saw another friend, J Kwon, whom I hadn't seen in two years because he had to do his mandatory military service. We watched Cloud Atlas together (which was mind-blowingly good) and caught up on old times.

Now that I'm back in Seoul after all of that traveling, I look forward to reconnecting with other people! There are lots of old friends and peers in the city, and actually, four weeks is starting to look like not enough time to see them all!

Stopover in Seoul

On the morning of the 12th, all of us who had enjoyed the Ice Fishing Festival came back down from the winter wonderland and returned to Seoul. We played a lot of Contact on the subway.

In the capital, we met up with Jonathan and Liam, two fellow ETAs. It was Jonathan's birthday, and he was going to celebrate by watching a Korean basketball game. I didn't go (but if you want an idea of what that was like, you can read Maggie's blog or Ammy's blog), having planned instead to visit the Yongsan Electronics Market to buy a replacement lens cap. I had lost mine at the festival when I gave my camera to a kind stranger to take photos of me going nuts in a pool of freezing water. He gave the camera back, of course, but both of us forgot about the lens cap; doubtless it is still in his pocket.

A heaven of cameras at I'Park Mall. Photo from this Korea blog.

Anyway, I went with Adam and Katelyn to Yongsan, and upon entering the market (I'Park Mall), I was flabbergasted by the sight before me. There must have been thousands of cameras of all different kinds, and tons of sellers who immediately started calling out to me to try out whatever they had. I'd done my research, though, I knew that these guys on the first floor were the ones most likely to try to rip off customers, especially foreigners. To check, I asked the first merchant I saw how much it would be for a lens cap. He punched some numbers into a calculator and showed me 23,000₩ ($21.50). Heck no! I quickly left that area of the market, even though it was beautiful to behold... and we found a different market.

There are actually several different markets (more like department stores) in the neighborhood, and I decided to try Electronics Land (전자렌드). Luckily, I found my lens cap without too much trouble there. I was looking for anything below ten bucks, and a guy working a videography shop dug in some drawers and found a Canon lens of the right size for me, for 10,000₩ ($9.50). I took his offer.

Later, I saw another camera merchant downstairs and wondered if I'd be able to bargain down. I tried using Korean with limited and awkward success. (Koreal life, people!) So, when this second merchant offered 10,000₩, I said that it was too expensive and asked for 8,000. He didn't miss a beat and lowered the price. I was caught by surprise, because I'd already bought my other lens cap, and obviously I had to find a way out of buying this one, too. So, I said that that was still too expensive and said that I could find it elsewhere for 5,000₩. Then the merchant snapped at me and said that I should just order it online if I wanted it that cheap. (When I checked later, Amazon does indeed have my lens cap for cheaper. Whatever, though!)

At Baskin Robbins

Adam and Katelyn and I went to get ice cream at Baskin Robbins, partly to celebrate and partly because, well, I think that if you don't go to the Yongsan Electronics Market specifically to get a certain item (having done price comparison research beforehand), then it's really too overwhelming for simply browsing. So we weren't interested in looking for anything else. Not even all of the bootleg DVDs being sold on street corners!

The next part of our adventure took place in the mall connected to the Yongsan Train Terminal. With about an hour to kill before Katelyn's train back to Iksan, we decided to do a spontaneous photo scavenger hunt with our handy smart phones. Items to be photographed included: PSY, Engrish, other foreigners, the Korean flag, and groups of people standing in a circle but all on their phones. It was such a perfect time-killer.

At Ho (好) Bar in Hongdae. Photo courtesy Maggie.

Then, Adam and I traveled to Itaewon, Seoul's international neighborhood, to meet up with the others for dinner. For Jonathan's birthday, he wanted to go to a Nigerian restaurant called Mama Africa (he is of Nigerian descent). When we arrived, we discovered that the owner of the restaurant had the same first and last name as Jonathan. It was pretty hilarious. For dinner, I had jollof rice, which was my first taste of Nigerian food.

After dinner, we hung out in the hostel for a bit before going out to some bars in Hongdae. I'm not much of a bar person myself (too much noise and smoke), but I still had a good time with Jonathan, Liam, Maggie, and Ammy. One of the bars we went to had some pool tables, and it was fun! Even though I suck at pool. Like, I'm really, really bad. But that is unimportant when you're having fun with friends, right?

Not only was this a fantastic omelet, they had COLORING PLACEMATS!

The next morning, Ammy and I went to Jubilee Church, a church with English services that I hadn't been to since last summer. I enjoyed the service a lot, mostly because it closely resembled the church services that I was accustomed to growing up and in college. It's been so long since I've sung worship songs with such gusto.

After the service, we headed back to Itaewon for lunch with the rest of them at Suji's. Suji's is an American restaurant with several locations in Asia, and it's very popular with Fulbrighters as the place to get American "diner food" while in Seoul. This was my first time going, and it was well worth the 45-minute wait.

The food was good, as was the birthday cake that Ammy and I got for Jonathan, and the five of us had a great time enjoying a slow afternoon with delicious food and wonderful company. Also, the placemats were colorable and we got crayons. Simply sublime. I tell you.

Birthday boy Jonathan (left) and Liam (right) at Suji's.

I wished that that afternoon could have stretched on longer (and especially that the food could have magically reappeared to be eaten again...), but Ammy and I needed to get to Cheongju that afternoon, so we peaced out and went to the express bus terminal to begin the next part of our adventure: skiing!

Life of Pisces

From tomorrow, I won't see my host family for about a month, so we had a nice dinner out tonight: Korean barbecue! During the meal, we talked a lot about movies (영화/younghwa). I found out that my host parents don't care for musicals but that the family enjoyed Life of Pi. (I did, too!) Then, in an effort to engage my host bro in conversation and take his attention away from his smartphone games, I asked my host brother more about the movie. "Do you think you could live in a boat with a tiger (호랑이/holangi) for two hundred days?" I asked. "If you were Pi, what would you do?"

He replied that it would be very fun. "Fun?!" I exclaimed. "How would it be fun?"

"Fishing," he said.

(By the way, my host brother loves fishing. And sushi.)

Foreground: 육회 (yukhwe), Korean-style raw beef. This was a first. Background: delicious seasoned beef on a charcoal bbq! And also a nub of the 육회 that host bro threw on the grill to try to cook it.

P.S. Another episode of Koreal life today: I had to go to the bank to reset my mobile banking password. I was lucky the clerk who assisted me was patient and very nice. After some time, I realized that she didn't know what I was asking for. I mean, I mumbled my initial request and signed some random forms, and then she instructed me to enter my password. "... But... I've forgotten it. That's why I'm here," I thought, confused. It all got solved in the end, though. Also, she back-handedly complimented my Korean. "Really good for someone who's not taking classes." I WILL TAKE CLASSES. JUST YOU WAIT, KIND, HELPFUL BANK LADY.

Food Etiquette, revisited

Since my first post on food etiquette in Korea, I've made a couple more mistakes that may be of note... I'm just telling myself that these are useful rules to know and that even if I think they're odd, adhering to them is cultural capital and a win-win for my homestay family and me.

from Wikipedia

1. Don't eat 김 without rice.

김, or kim, is dried seaweed. It's a common side dish in Korea, Japan (nori), and Taiwan (紫菜, although my family calls it nori, too). While some people unfamiliar with the taste may raise their eyebrows at the idea of eating seaweed, I've grown up eating this stuff and, if I'm in the mood, simply eat it like chips.

It was my host mother who first told me, however, that one does not eat kim by itself. You must eat it with rice. ("But it's so good! And white rice is so bland and carby!" I think. Oh well.) Because it's easy enough to greatly reduce the ratio of rice to kim, this isn't really a problem at all.

2. Keep your soup bowl on the right.

Some kind of soup (국/soup, 죽/porridge, 찌개/stew or 탕/also soup) is an essential at every Korean meal. It's not Korean if it doesn't include something delicious (and often spicy) in a bowl. Why keep it on the right? I don't know. 그냥.

3. Don't read at the dining table.

In fact, don't do anything at the table while eating except eat. My own mother used to be particular about this: no phones or electronics allowed at dinner. The same holds true for my host mother, who daily tells my host brother to put away his cell phone and stop playing the new fad game app of the week during meals. But when I was told to put my book (I mean Kindle, but whatever) away, I was actually the only one at the table, eating a late breakfast by myself. That left me kind of awkwardly bored for the remainder of my meal.

The way I make sense of this is by observing how absurdly quickly most Koreans around me tend to eat. Mealtimes can be long because there's a lot of food available (four-course meals are standard at most restaurants I've been to), but the food itself is scarfed down in no time at all. That said, something as time-consuming as reading a book not only leaves food uneaten, it also allows it to grow cold before it is consumed, and if that's not an insult to the person who prepared it for you, then I don't know what is.

(Well, except I do know many things that could be considered worse faux pas at the Korean dining table, only I haven't committed them and do not intend to, ever. If I accidentally make more gaffes, I'll be sure to document them!)

P.S. There's been wintry precipitation all over the peninsula today. As I sat in my office looking at a calm gray sky, I noticed my Fulbright peers' Facebook status updates announcing snow, freezing rain, and even some thunder and lightning. Way down south in Changwon, we only got rain for most of the evening -- and I came home pretty drenched. But my host mother just went outside and announced that it snowed! For all of like five minutes. And it has all melted now. My hopes are that it'll fall and stick at least once before I leave for winter break, but if it doesn't, I'm cool with that, too.

Exercising my rights and my Korean skills

Absentee voting from abroad is not easy.

The general election is on November 6th, and as I am abroad and unable to vote in person, I needed to send an FPCA (Federal Post Card Application) to receive my ballot. I filled out the FPCA two weeks ago and faxed it, but I was never sure if it was received on the other hand. I waited for my absentee ballot to arrive in my inbox, but it never did. So, I called yesterday (hoping that the international call would be short and not keep me counting the seconds on hold for fear of my phone bill) and was notified that my FPCA never even made it to Delaware County.

So, I did it all again today: printed out a new form, scanned it, and sent it by email this time, and then went to the post office to mail the original as well. I should have done this the first time around. But the prospect of having to mail anything from Korea by myself was... not inviting, to be honest.

It's quite frightening for to have to use my limited Korean in "real life" -- which means in public, with Koreans who do not speak English and are not my friends or teachers who understand that I don't really speak Korean very well at all.

As I was walking toward the post office (우체국) this afternoon, a thought suddenly struck me: Andrew, you're about to have to use Korean only to communicate for the next thirty minutes at least. It may be a disaster. Brace yourself, be confident, and keep a smile on.

I entered the post office, took my number after looking confused for a few brief seconds, and sat down to wait. While I waited, I looked up the words for "special", "envelope", and "send" on my phone's dictionary app. I needed a special envelope -- actually, I needed a normal envelope, but on this blank envelope I needed to print the FPCA template for the address that would allow me to send it postage paid.

My original intent was to buy an envelope and then take it back to school to print out the template, only then to return to the post office to actually send it. But I noticed that the post office had printers of its own, so I decided to try to ask if they could print it here for me. I somehow made myself understood and the post office worker took my flash drive to check what was on it. Unfortunately, her supervisor saw what she was doing and was all like, "Nope! Can't do that here. Go to a PC방." Tail between my legs, I scurried away (taking the envelope with me without paying for it).

At the PC방 (a public computer gaming room), I asked the two guys working there if I could print stuff off. I already knew the answer before I asked, though; the PC방 was smoky, noisy, and full of computers for League of Legends and whatnot, without a printer in sight. I was then told that PC방 rarely had printers; they had no other suggestions for me.

Getting a bit desperate, I Kakao-ed a Korean friend and asked for her advice. She told me that unfortunately she wasn't sure where I should go, but perhaps look for a 인쇄소 (print shop). So, I went into the nearest convenience store to ask if there were any in this area. Nope. At this point I had spent close to half an hour trying to communicate with six different Koreans, all without success, just to find a public printer.

Exasperated, I decided to forfeit the postage paid envelope and just write the freaking address on the envelope on my own, and pay for it myself. So back to the post office. And here's the rest of my conversation with the post office worker (PO), translated from Korean.

Me: The PC room couldn't print it, so...
PO: When do you want this to arrive?
Me: Uh...
PO: Normal postage will take 10 days.
Me: Oh, 10 days?
PO: Do you want to expedite it? It'll be expensive.
Me: Oh, how expensive?
PO: [checks figures] ... 17,600 won ($16). Very expensive!
Me: [thinking: holy @*#$!] Oh, yes, that's expensive! Um...
PO: It will arrive next Tuesday if you expedite. But it's very expensive.
Me: Um... normal is okay, then.
PO: Normal?
Me: Yes.
PO: Okay... 610 won ($0.50).
Me: [thinking: and I went to all that trouble to try to print on the envelope...] Okay. Thank you.
PO: Did you just come back from living in America?
Me: What?
PO: Did you just come back from living in America?
Me: [not understanding the question] Uh, yes, I came back from living in America?
By now, everyone in the office is listening, and they laugh when I say this.
Me: What?
PO: Were you born in America?
Me: Oh, yes. In California.
PO: Ah. Are you Korean?
Me: Huh? No.
PO: American?
Me: Yes.
PO: Your face looks Korean!
Me: Oh, no, I'm not. I'm Taiwanese-American.
PO: AH! Taiwanese-American! [to others] He's Taiwanese-American. You look very Korean! We thought you were Korean!
Me: Really? Thanks.
PO: You speak Korean well.
Me: No, not really. Thank you.
PO: Okay, have a nice day!
Me: Goodbye!

Anyway, I'd better get my absentee ballot asap. I'm also going to use the Federal Write-in Absentee Ballot just in case. This probably means another trip to the post office soon. What fun!

Club Ann.A: Swing Dancing in Korea! (Daegu pt. 3)

At around 8:30pm on Saturday evening in Daegu, I was simultaneously searching for something to do and somewhere to sleep. I couldn't decide which was more the more pressing matter; if I could find hospitable folks at a club, maybe they could help me find a place for the night, but if I had to go looking for a hostel, then I might not end up doing anything fun for the evening. Either way, I was very thankful that I have a smartphone. The Internet told me that there was a swing club and a 찜질방 (jjimjilbang) within walking distance of the downtown area, so I opted to find them, even though the directions given on the multiple websites and blogs I browsed were vague at best.

Jet took me to a salsa club called Babalu before he had to leave for other business. The salsa club is a pretty hot spot and the expats there were quite friendly. I explained that I was trying to find a swing club that I'd heard about, and several people tried to help me figure out where to go. I was grateful for their kindness! The American who was leading a beginner salsa class, Katherine, even gave me an impromptu lesson in bachata while I was vacillating over my plans for the evening. In the end, around 9:30pm, I decided to try my luck at finding the swing club, knowing that if I couldn't find it, then I could always come back to Babalu and hang out there.

Long story short, after twenty minutes, I was lost, and the GPS function on my phone was not working properly, and my phone itself was quickly running out of batteries... I was standing on a dark and silent street corner where the club was supposed to be, almost ready to give up when I took about five steps to the right and suddenly heard music! Swing music! Coming from a building almost hidden from view!

It was Club Ann.A! 드디어, I found it! You have no idea how happy I was when I walked in and saw people dancing -- swing dancing -- in a dimly lit room to music from the '40s. I tried to explain how happy I was, and why, in Korean to the lady at the welcome counter (who turned out to be the club owner), but just settled for saying that the place was hard to find. And then I danced!

Swing dancing at Club Ann.A in Daegu!

It was perfect. Just imagine any lindy club you've ever been to, and then replace all the Americans with Koreans, and you have the scene I was in. As I watched for the first few minutes, I realized that most of the people there were at an intermediate or advanced level, and they would have fit in seamlessly with the style and atmosphere that I've seen at Philly's LaB. It was actually a bit intimidating, but I thought, "Well, if this is just like being at LaB, then I have to work up my own courage and ask someone to dance." And when I did, I asked in English, and peoples' heads turned.

That's all it took. As soon as the ladies in the room registered that I was American, not Korean, suddenly everyone wanted to dance with me. For probably the first time since coming to Korea, I felt the "rock star treatment" that many foreigners get -- albeit usually for being tall, white, and beautiful. I am, for obvious reasons, often mistaken for being Korean. But just this once, rather than blending in, I was the one who stood out the most, and the reception was warm, flattering, and kind of funny!

Here's a compilation of some short videos I took while they did some cute line dances. (My camera was running out of memory, so the videos are short and choppy; my apologies.)

Anyway, this was probably the highlight of my weekend. I had a fantastic time, and I enjoyed meeting all of the Koreans. They were an energetic, young group, although I was by far the youngest. Many of the follows I danced with spoke English well, but I also had a great opportunity to practice my Korean, since I was quite literally the only foreigner there, and lots of people wanted to ask me some questions (Why are you here? How'd you find us? Where are you from? How long have you been dancing?). At the end of the evening, I promised to be back soon, got some numbers, and then was blessed enough to be given a ride to the nearest 찜질방 to crash overnight.

Favorite song from the night: The Idea of North's a cappella cover of Stevie Wonder's Isn't She Lovely.
Odd cultural difference of the night: Koreans sometimes bow to each other (insa) after a dance.

Here's some info about Club Babalu and Club Ann.A:
Club Babalu: Salsa, bachata, and tango. From Exit 10 of Banwoldang Station (반월당역), walk east (away from all the other exits), turn left after the pharmacy onto a narrow road with noodle shops on both sides. Walk for about two blocks; you'll pass a CNS on the right, then Babalu should a door or two down on the left. Take the elevator to the 4th floor. 8,000₩ entry for the Saturday night dances, beginning 9pm. They also offer various leveled classes all week.

Club Ann.A: Lindy and blues, as well as a smattering of other styles, from what I could tell. From Jungangno Station (중앙로역), Exit 3, walk east for five blocks until you get to City Hall (대구 시청). From Gyeongdae Hospital Station (경대병원역), Exit 1 or 4, walk north for four blocks (you'll pass a park on your left; cross the intersection and go for one more block), turn left after the galbi (갈비) restaurant and walk two more blocks until you get to City Hall. By bus or taxi, look/ask for Daegu City Hall (대구광역시청). Here is a map.

The club is located in the basement floor of Building 276, right by the pharmacy on the corner across from City Hall. The neighborhood is deceptively quiet, so don't be alarmed if you think you're walking away from all the downtown nightlife (because you are). 8,000₩ entry for the Saturday night dances, 8-11:30pm.

Ann.A was begun in 2007 by a lady named Anna who still runs the place. According to some outdated information floating around the Internet, Babalu used to be located in the same building; but several years ago, Babalu relocated to its current home at the heart of the downtown area.

- - -
On a side note, I got my first haircut at a Korean salon today! The first five minutes were incredibly awkward, since I realized that I know absolutely no haircut vocabulary in Korean apart from "long", "short", and "Please give me a haircut." After the prolonged silence, the hairdresser whipped out her phone and started looking for photos online; she also made me have some sponge cake and instant coffee while she searched. It was nice, I guess. In the end, my hair looks completely normal, but the sides are now at an appropriate length. My host father says I look like a high school student. 8,000₩ for a haircut and complimentary shampooing! Not bad.

A Bit of Food Etiquette

Some things I've learned that are useful for living in a Korean household...

1. Don't eat 찌개 (jjigae) or 국 (guk) with chopsticks. It's soup. Use a spoon.
Okay, this might seem completely obvious to some, but let me explain. I grew up using chopsticks to eat a lot of things, including soup. It's business as usual to pick out the masticable bits and then to pick up the bowl itself to drain what's left. Apparently, that's not how it's done here. I've never actually seen any Korean pick up their bowl. But Koreans use spoons to a much greater extent than Chinese and Taiwanese. So I'm going to start getting used to sipping slowly!

[edit] I asked my host parents today about this: in fact, it is just fine to finish what's left in your bowl by picking it up and sipping from it. They do this on TV advertisements all the time. However, I still haven't seen anyone actually do it. [/edit]

2. It is impolite to watch your superiors/elders eat.
So, at least in my household, when I've finished breakfast with the host family, I have to get up and go somewhere else. I tell my host mother, "But I like so sit!" The reply: "Nope! Please get up." So I go to my room. Koreans tend to eat quickly, and I haven't completely adjusted to their dining speed yet. In the cafeteria, I'm usually the last to finish, which is fine if I'm eating with my students, but they feel awkward about waiting for me, because, well, I count as a superior to them. At a restaurant for a huishik, this may mean: if you notice you're eating too quickly, slow down. You can't finish until your superiors are finished.

3. Hot and spicy food is often eaten in order to "cool down".
It's not secret that Koreans love spicy food. But it sounds paradoxical when, after a fiery 김치 찌개 (kimchi stew), they'll lean back and say, "시원하다!" Shiwonhada means "cool". When I finished my share of kimchi stew, I felt anything but cool. No, seriously, I was sweating. But, as my co-teacher explained, the sweat brings out impurities in your body, and once the sweat evaporates, you do indeed feel cooler and refreshed. So when it comes to the 매운 음식, grin and bear it!

That's it for now! Watching Pirates of the Caribbean 4 with my host brother and sister on a rare night off for them. And this weekend is Chuseok, also known as Korean Thanksgiving! 여러분 추석 잘 보내세요!