鼎泰豐 - Din Tai Fung! (& the GRE)

I traveled up to Seoul again this weekend (so that's 100,000₩ spent on buses in the past two weeks, ugh) in order to take the GRE. But I also took advantage of being in the capital again in order to meet up with friends and eat delicious food!

Din Tai Fung / 鼎泰豐 / 딘타이펑

Did you know that Seoul boasts two branches of the Taiwanese dumpling heaven also known as Din Tai Fung? I didn't either, until I wandered around the Gangnam neighborhood looking for a cafe to work in and saw one of them out of the corner of my eye. Seriously, you cannot imagine how excited I got. I quickly texted Jung Hyun, saying, "Forget that American restaurant you mentioned. Want dumplings?!" Or something along those lines.

Chocolate Kaya toast! (Click to enlarge)

While I waited for my friend to arrive, I studied for a bit at a cute cafe called Ya Kun, part of a Singapore-based chain that specializes in sweet and savory toasts. Strawberry cream tea (?) for 3,300₩ and chocolate kaya toast for 3,800₩. It was good, but maybe a bit pricey. The study atmosphere would have been nicer if folks at the table next to me hadn't been chatting very, very loudly.

Jung Hyun at Din Tai Fung

Anyway, the real culinary goodness started at Din Tai Fung. I've loved this place ever since I went to original restaurant in Taipei. It was small, busy, chaotic, and absolutely delicious. The restaurant wasn't delicious, I mean, but the dumplings were. The chain is supposed to have this fiercely-kept secret recipe for how they make their dumplings so juicy, but I don't know, that might just be good advertising.

Another aspect of the chain is that every restaurant has an "open" kitchen; in the photo at the right, you can see one of the dumpling chefs at work in the background!

Anyway, Jung Hyun and I got two combination platters of dumplings that were 11,000₩ each and some 볶음밥 (bokkeum bap/fried rice); our total bill came to 16,000₩ per person if I remember correctly.

I can only describe the dumplings as being 맛있어요 (delicious)! I tried the shrimp shao mai first, which were good, with really hot juice bursting from the thin shell. The pork dumplings were juicier, though. We also had some 油飯 (glutinous rice) dumplings, which weren't as memorable as the others... kind of dry, actually, in comparison. But overall, it was great; my stomach was full and happy before long.

Dumplings at Din Tai Fung. I'm so happy we found this place!

Jung Hyun and I chatted for a long time about our lives as busy adults with real jobs... what a concept! And after dinner, we went to Starbucks, got sugary not-really-coffees, and walked around the ritzy Gangnam area just to look at the lights and pretty things. All around Seoul, people are getting ready for Christmas!

It's Christmastime at the flower shop in the metro station!

Seeing all the decorations everywhere is really great, but also kind of strange, because Korea doesn't have quite the same connection with Christianity that western nations and cultures do, so Christmas seems, at least to me, to be more overtly commercialized. It's really about getting into the spirit of shopping and buying cute, pretty things that have no basis in anything remotely close to Korean culture. In the United States, of course, every Christmas spawns another round of the "Put the 'Christ' back in Christmas!!!" chorus -- American Christmas is indeed the epitome of the Commerical Christmas -- but there's also the strong religious cohort that tries to keep the roots of the holiday as visible as possible. Here, well, maybe not so much? I have yet to see any nativity scenes, but time will tell.

Okay, tangent aside... after dinner, I went back to the place where I was staying and crammed for a bit, slept, woke up at 8am, spent the morning nervously eating breakfast and cramming more, and then took the GRE. It was not easy. Four hours makes for a long exam and an exhausted Andrew. Then I Skyped with my parents, got lunch with Jake, Fulbright's current Executive Assistant, and hopped on a bus back to Changwon.

All in all, a productive weekend, I suppose. But although it was fun, I think I need to budget myself better. I spend so much money when I go to Seoul, it's alarming. I think I started out on Saturday with over a hundred bucks in my wallet, and I have only one 5,000₩ note left. Also, I'm pooped. I think the upcoming week is going to be tough... while my first-years are still doing their speaking tests, my second-years are turning in their first drafts for their speeches, which means several long nights of correcting papers are in store for me. Sigh... 화이팅!

P.S. Happy birthday, Mom!

Draft

[in a Western accent] In these here parts, a good way to git students to care about English is to threaten 'em with a grade. Now, I weren't the one doing the threatenin', but Co-teach decided that I'd probably be a good person to judge the students' speakin' ability. Long story short, they've got ta give a three-minute speech in front of the class, in English and memorized, and whatever they git on it becomes ten percent of their grade in the grammar class. It goes without sayin' that they're takin' it seriously, most of them, leastways. Most of 'em are takin' advantage of the fact that I'm allowin' them to hand in as many drafts as they like, as I'd said on my honor that I'd correct 'em. That said, I won't go acceptin' no drafts without the student askin' me properly, first! In English! So here's what happened yesterday...

Four students mob me in the hallway, puttin' pieces of paper under my nose.

"Teacher! My draft!"

I crack a smile, thinkin', well, I'm not lettin' this go that easily. And I smile, jus' waitin'.

"Teacher, my draft... uh... [in Korean] How do you say 'check' in English?"

They know what I'm thinkin'. And I know they know what I'm thinkin'. "Yes?"

And they try so many darn times!

"I want... my draft."
"My draft, examine? Exam?"
"Please, you, my draft."
"I want to... check my draft."

This game's pretty fun, I'm thinkin'. "Who do you want to check your draft?"

"I want to check my draft... to you!"
"I want to examine my draft to you?"

Passin' period's almost up, so I give in. I say it to 'em, real slow. "I would like you to check my draft."

They repeat, and one of 'em counts the individual words on his fingers as he sounds 'em out. "I would like you to check my draft. [in Korean] Oh, this is so hard."

And I make all four of 'em say it back to me before I go takin' their papers. Then, a fifth student saunters up to the crowd. "What's up?" I say.

"Please check my draft." Hands me his paper. Walks away.

Folks are impressed. In a manner of speakin'... what a boss.

Trash and Taboo

I embarrassed one of my students to near humiliation the other day. Oops.

Here's what happened, in the present progressive: So I'm telling one of my second-year classes about their speech tests, which is visibly boring them. I think to myself: well, they have a worksheet with good directions on it, and they've done this before, so let's just speed through the rest of this stupid lecture and play a game. (It's also been kind of an off week for me, since my teaching schedule was changed, again... with any prior notice, again...)

So I whip out the deck of Taboo cards that I brought from home but have never used in class before (shoutout to Jen, Rebekah, and Irene for helping me choose the most ESL-friendly!) and make up a sort of charades-Taboo-mashup game right on the spot. Some of my students have fairly low vocabularies, so I allow them to act out the words on the cards as well as use language -- English only -- to describe them.

The first few rounds go by just fine, and the class is finally beginning to wake up, thanks to their ever-competitive spirits. And then it's MC's turn. He's generally quiet in class, but I know he's not shy, because he's pretty boisterous when it's just him and friends, no intimidating foreign English teacher in sight. MC's been getting into the game and goes up for his turn with confidence.

I show the representatives of both teams the card: "trash". As it's a Taboo card, there are other words below it, but we ignore these. MC looks at it and nods, and his competitor from the other team immediately starts miming crumpling up paper and tossing it, or something like that.

MC decides to go verbal. He uses his hands to mimic a pile of something, and calls out, "Ga-bee-jee".

My ears perk up. What was... did he just say galbi jjim (갈비찜, steamed short ribs)?

"No Korean!" I warn him.

In an instant, the entire classroom has erupted in laughter. I'm confused for just a moment, and then I lock eyes with MC, who looks completely stupefied, and realize... Oh. He meant to say "garbage".

Moments later, the opposing team gets the word and the point. MC walks dejectedly back to his seat, but the class is still giggling uncontrollably and it actually takes a minute to get them settled again. I apologize profusely before turning to the board and writing "GARBAGE" in big letters. Anything can be turned into a lesson: time for some pronunciation practice, class!


P.S. So-called "proper" English pronunciation is a tricky subject, one that I don't think I'll delve into much, but I'm not the only Fulbright teacher whose misadventures with misunderstood words has turned into a teaching moment. I present to you: Samantha Teacher, whose blog you should read because it's great!

Sunday Morning in Seoul (with Street Food)

Woah there, Blogger/Google/Picasa. Apparently I've used up all 1000 megabytes (1GB) of the free storage space that comes with this blogging platform. I've been in Korea for less than five months, and I've already uploaded a gigabyte of photos? Dang.

I'm loathe to pay for extra storage space, though. Hm, what to do now? Link to Facebook photo albums? Delete older photos? Resize all of my pho- NO WAY. So... Dear readers, any suggestions?

I was going to write about the lovely Sunday morning I spent in Hongdae and Myeongdong, two popular neighborhoods in Seoul, with Fulbright buddies as well as a long-time-no-see high school friend. I had photos of mint chocolate lattes and Myeongdong's famous street food. Whatever shall I do now that I can't share them?

...

Well, I can use words, I guess. I stayed with a couchsurfer named Kevin, who is from Switzerland, on Saturday night. My first official couchsurfing experience was great all around, although it was short. I would of course recommend it to anyone itching to travel but either worried about lodging costs, traveling alone, or traveling without an itinerary. I'll definitely look to it when I look for places to during my spring break next year.

On Sunday morning, then, I was about to wander around the Hongdae area by myself, when I ran into Rachel and Andrew M. in the metro station. We decided to get coffee/breakfast together, and Rachel and I tried in vain to find food. Now, Saturday night Hongdae is always a hoppin' neighborhood, unimaginably crowded and just jam-packed with all kinds of restaurants. But Sunday morning Hongdae is like a ghost town. You might call it peaceful, with weak ten-o'-clock sunlight shining through some trees and a pedestrian or two wandering about, but in fact, it was kind of chilling (and chilly). Where was everyone? And more importantly, why were there almost no cafes open? And why was there only one food truck in sight, one that was setting up and not ready for business yet? We tried a hole-in-the-wall place whose sign read that it would be open at 10:30 but failed to do so, which we found out when we almost walked into a chair stuck in the (open) doorway upon which a paper note had been affixed that read (something along the lines of) "Nope! We're actually gonna open at 12:30, sucks for you". Dang, run-on.

Rachel commented that this was the first time Korea had failed her when it came to needing food at any given moment in a day. Despite the previous night's feast, we were ravenous, and finally settled on Homestead Coffee, a sort of Starbucks knockoff that seemed too trendy for my taste, but it was all fine and dandy in the end.

Then my high school friend, Justin, called me up and we embarked on a mission to fill our 배 (pae/stomachs) with as much delicious street food as we could find around Hongdae and Myeongdong, several subway stops away. Eggy bread (1,000₩)? Check. Hotteok (1,000₩)? Check. Gross burnt caramel thing that looked a lot better than it tasted (1,000₩, unfortunately)? Check. Tornado Potato?!?! (2,000₩) CHECK. The problem with the tornado potato, aside from the fact that it is a heart failure-inducing, deep-fried entire potato, is that its twirly deliciousness is so thin that in the frigid air, it goes from piping fresh-from-the-deep-fryer hot to soggy, cold, and sad in mere minutes. Still a treat, though. I wish I could show you the photos.

Oh hey, it works! Facebook-linked photo; you should be able to see it if you're friends with me on FB. En garde, beware the skewer of deep-fried potato! (photo taken by Justin, fellow MSJ Yearbook alum!)

It was fun to hang out with Justin that morning, and all too soon, it was time for me to depart (lest I return to Changwon too late for my own good, as this bus commute takes five hours, one way). And that, ladies and gentlemen, was my weekend in Seoul! In two days I'm going to repeat the trip, only this time not for Thanksgiving and wonderful food, but to take the GRE, which I'm going to fail, no doubt. (Who does worse on practice test number two, after two weeks of cramming? Seriously?) But I'll be sure to do fun things and take good photos, and I'll find a way to put them here soon enough. Ciao!

Seoul Lantern Festival

It was chance that allowed us to visit the Seoul Lantern Festival (서울등축제) after the Embassy-sponsored Thanksgiving Dinner. I had had no idea that it was ongoing, but when I suggested a walk along the Cheonggyecheon (청계천), a 5-mile long artificial stream that winds through the heart of the city, I was surprised to hear that not only was it a short walk away from the museum, it would also be lit with lanterns and lantern sculptures. That basically made it a done deal, and about a dozen Fulbrighters braved the cold to visit the festival. I have tons of photos: enjoy!

Hundreds of tourists were walking along the banks of the creek to see the lanterns. My friends and I stayed at street level.

An amazing and beautiful tunnel of blue light.

The Cheonggyecheon is really long, but the lanterns didn't extend along its full length. I'd say we spent about an hour walking leisurely and seeing the beautiful artwork.

This display had some traditional music playing to match all of the lantern instruments you see.

This display was one of my favorites; the lantern kites were held up by wires, but they were actually moving in the breeze.

Katelyn and me in the gorgeous blue tunnel (taken by Tracey).

The whole group from left to right: Jonathan, Ammy, Ashley, Kathy, Katelyn, Kristen, Tracey, Julia, Maggie, Kate, Kaley, and Christina. They're in front of a huge lantern gate, literally a wall of light towering above them.

The Seoul Lantern Festival is not as large or famous as the Jinju Lantern Festival, but I missed the latter (because I went to the Busan International Film Festival instead). Thus I'm glad I got to see firsthand what the lantern craze in Korea is all about.

The U.S. Embassy's Thanksgiving Dinner

So festive!

Who: Fulbright ETAs, members of the Korean American Educational Commission (including the director, the all-powerful Mrs. Shim), and important people from the U.S. Embassy in Seoul (including the ambassador, Sung Kim).

What: An early Thanksgiving dinner, with food and performances. There was tons of food, traditional Korean songs (Arirang) and instruments (gayageum), more food, and more performances, some by current ETAs: hip hop, Irish step dance, poetry, poi, and more.

The performance of gayageum, Korean zithers, at the National Folk Museum of Korea.

Where: The National Folk Museum of Korea, after hours! It was after closing time, but some of the galleries were left open for us to wander through on our own, which was excellent. Also, the museum itself is gorgeous and is located in a beautiful, historic part of the city.

Why: The embassy and the KAEC wanted to keep everyone's minds off of the fact that, this coming Thursday, we will actually be spending Thanksgiving away from our families and friends, which is kind of sad. On the bright side, we have our Fulbright family, our Korean families, and that fighting American spirit that will get us through. Plus, they happened to have tons of American food lying around that they needed people to consume. ;) Turkey and ham, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, baked pasta, pumpkin pie, and so much more... yum!

It was great to catch up with Fulbright friends, a whole month after our Fall Conference.

So in the spirit of Thanksgiving, what are a few things I'm thankful for? Let's see... I'm thankful, first and foremost, that I am healthy, active, and alive. I'm thankful that I have a loving family spread out across two continents and friends who are just a few Facebook clicks away. I'm thankful to have a stable job that I absolutely love. Discovering a thirst for teaching has been a real joy over the past few months; I'm glad that I get to do it in the context of Fulbright. I'm grateful for the friends I've made in Korea and for my host family's generosity. My life here could have been a heck of a lot more difficult than it has been, so even though it's not perfect, I actually have nothing to complain about.

I acknowledge, further, my privileges as an American and a native speaker of English, as these are statuses that come equipped with rights I never had to earn, respect that I don't always deserve, and job skills that I didn't have to pay for. As long as I am in Asia, I should be aware that being Asian and being male are also privileges of their own. These are good things that I should not take for granted.

I'm thankful that I own a camera and can take photos of beautiful things. I'm thankful that I can take the GRE while abroad (even though I'm dreading it...) and that I have a say in my own education. I'm thankful for books and for writing and for the ability to create stories out of my mere imagination. I'm grateful that Koreans keep complimenting me on my Korean ability even though I know it's still not very good. I'm thankful for chocolate, tangerines, yogurt, persimmons, and Korean street food. I'm thankful for the bad TV shows I watch, the good music I listen to, and the fun and interesting blogs I read. I am grateful even for my ability to watch, listen, and read.

And lastly, I must accredit my utmost gratefulness to God for being a provider and a source of love who will never leave me. Thanks, God! Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving!

I ate this.

추수감사절 축하합니다! A very happy (early) Thanksgiving to you all, on behalf of Fulbright and the U.S. Embassy, from Seoul!

(That's pronounced: choo-soo kam-sa-chul chookha-hamnida.)

I returned from a lovely weekend in the capital just over an hour ago, and I'm pretty spent. No GRE cramming or Nanowrimo tonight. I'm just uploading photos to Facebook and reminiscing on all of that wonderful food... and of course, of the things for which I'm thankful. I'll write more substantially tomorrow. Photos (of food, the Seoul Lantern Festival, and more food) to come!

Toasty Feet

Ooh, the host family has turned on the ondol (온돌), and the floors are nice and toasty this morning. Ondol is Korea's signature underfloor heating system. In this apartment on the third story, of course, we're not using wood smoke and a furnace. It's probably electrical heating, or maybe water. Whatever it is, my feet appreciate it.

I'll be leaving the warm house soon, however, to take a trip up to Seoul. Tonight, Fulbright is hosting an early Thanksgiving dinner at the National Folk Museum of Korea! This will be my fifth consecutive Thanksgiving away from home, but my first without any members of my family... But on the bright side, all the other Fulbrighters will be there. It sounds like it's going to be a classy shindig, and I'm excited. I won't be back until Sunday evening. Photos to come soon!

The Science Fair

Today, I was reminded why my students are the cream of the crop when it comes to smart kids bound for greatness. It sounds like an exaggeration, but it's not just the personal bias speaking when I say they totally impressed me. I might even say that I see them in a different light now.

CSHS Science Fair 2012. In the foreground, a bunch of students play with some instant-foaming organic insulator they created.

The Changwon Science High School annual science fair took place today. The first-year students have been working on "Research and Education" projects all year, and this is the time for them to present their work thus far. But this isn't your average high school's science fair. My students have been doing some advanced projects in chemistry, engineering, physics, biology, and mathematics. One group, for example, developed a computer program for an alarm system that would tell you if there was a problem with your home's circuit box, and also where in the house the problem lay. Another group made a molecular film that mimicked the waterproofing ability of the lotus leaf. These projects weren't just lab experiments or textbook problems, they were actual research.

The biodegradable fish-based plastic project.

It was way more advanced than anything I'd ever done in high school, at least, and I took AP Biology. Most of the projects I didn't even understand, and it didn't help that the posters were all in Korean. But I had a few of my students try their best to explain what was going on to me in English.

As it so happens, their speaking test for my English class is a three-minute speech that introduces their R&E projects. Seeing as these tests begin next week, many of them have had a little bit of practice already. It helped that I've been reading first, second, and third drafts of their speeches for the past month, so I could recognize the group that made a biodegradable plastic out of fish scales and bones and the group that used 3D imaging programs to predict which geometric theorems of right triangles could be extended to tetrahedrons.

But the real Big Deal at the science fair was the judging portion. Unsurprisingly, the first-years are not just doing these projects for the educational experience, but it's also a competition. There were judges from the regional Office of Education (I assume) who listened to every group give their poster session spiel. (This is the part that my students have been freaking out about for the past few days.) The best groups will get prizes and also advance to a regional science fair. Then, the best of those will advance to the national fair, for their shot at eternal fame and glory. But the competition is fierce every step of the way. (How do I know this? Oh, right, I've seen it before.)

The sonoluminescence group captured light emitted from bubbles excited by sound waves. Okay, I don't know how sonolumniscence works. My students are smarter than I am. THEY BUILT THIS.

Besides R&E, lots of artistic odds and ends on display.
(stuff from their other classes, like environmental-sci)

So what's the ultimate motive for all of this is? You guessed it: university. My first-years have taken their first steps in a year-long frenzy to garner as many academic accolades as they possibly can in preparation for their early applications to university next fall. If they place in a regional or national science fair, that's a huge boon to their prospects. Last year's class (the school's first graduating class) had a handful of students advance to the national level, I believe, but I'm vague on the details.

But you know what? Wandering around the gym and marveling at all of these projects, you wouldn't be able to tell that the atmosphere was buzzing because of stress and anxiety. Unless you asked a student who hadn't met the judges yet. Otherwise, there was a buzz of excitement in the air.

Besides the students, teachers, and judges, lots of parents were there to see what their children had produced. This includes my host father, who came to take a look at my host sister's project on the effect of UV radiation on photosynthesis.

And then, when the second-year students -- all of whom had to go through this experience together last year -- descended upon the gym to check out this year's crop, there was this near-carnivalesque atmosphere that... well, that wasn't a carnival, obviously, but do you get what I'm saying? It was just so exciting. The students were naturally curious about their work, probably did a little bit of bonding over their shared experiences. Of course, the second-years also came for the free coffee and snacks, but most of it was gone before they'd arrived. Oh well!

Host sister and her group, with their irradiated lettuce plants.

I took tons of photos and chatted with all of my students, all of whom were very proud to show me their work and explain it to me -- to varying degrees of success. Later on, I hung out in the gym with the students who had finished their presentations and we chatted. I'm getting to know the first-years a lot better now (at the expense of the second-years, which is sad, but I don't teach most of them anymore...), and I think they appreciated that the only things I really said to them all day were, "Your project is awesome!", "You're so smart!", and "Good job!" Some of them looked like they needed the encouragement, anyway.

A student rehearses his presentation while snacking. His project tried to identify the mechanisms in bees and other small insects which allow them to survive being hit by drops of water (when it rains).

So I'm honest when I say my students really impressed me. I really hope the best for all of them in the rest of their high school careers, as I've realized how maddening and soul-crushing it can be for them. I've also seen how my students light up when they talk about science or math and, well, a part of me wishes that they could have the same enthusiasm for English. For the most part, though, I'm extremely happy for them, and I can only hope that they retain that passion for the field that is likely to become their lifelong pursuit.

서예 - Korean Calligraphy

Six "fonts" for Hangul calligraphy; the phrase is: 창원한글학당: Changwon Hangul Hakdang (School). Plus, some hanja on the very left. I can read about half of the characters... pity.

Our calligraphy teachers demonstrating their skills!

Korean calligraphy, called 서예 (seoye), is an art that has been practiced in the country for hundreds, even thousands of years. The calligraphy that uses Chinese characters, which were introduced to the peninsula in the 2nd or 3rd century, is called 한자 (hanja). In 1443, King Sejong and his court invented a script for Korean that wasn't based in Chinese characters; this new writing system is called 한글 (hangeul), or Hangul. Currently, Korean calligraphy includes character writing in hanja and Hangul, as well as minimalist still life paintings of things like trees and flowers.

Yesterday was "Korean Culture Day" at the Korean class in Jungang-dong. I was only vaguely aware that there would be some food provided at the class, but what I didn't realize was that we were going to have a husband-and-wife pair of calligraphers come to show us their art and teach us the art itself. That, plus the 귤 (kyul/tangerines), 김밥 (kimbap/rice rolls), and 떡 (tteok/rice cakes) made it a party.

There was also a lottery at the end of the class/party, where winners received a calligraphy painting done by one of our teachers. I was the first one called! That's unusual... I almost never win lotteries of any kind. But I took home a nice painting of some reeds, as well as a painting of a hanja character: 忍 (Mandarin: rěn; Korean: in), which means "longsuffering", that the teacher did for me just on a whim.

It was fun to chat with the Korean teachers about hanja and how much they did or did not know. I also had a casual conversation with one of them about his Mandarin studies in college. A feeble attempt to retain my rapidly declining Mandarin...

Well, I didn't learn much Korean yesterday, but I got a taste of Korean culture, plus some souvenirs, so I guess that's good enough!

They also helped some of us make our own paintings! According to the teacher, traditional Korean painting is much simpler and minimalist than what you'll find in most Chinese paintings. There's a lot of white space left on the canvas.