Dynamic Busan, Part Three

The trip back to Korea last Friday was in jeopardy throughout the entire trip. The waves were three meters tall, which meant choppy seas and not desirable travel conditions when skating along the water in a hydrofoil. Two of our group got seasick and ralphed in the small airplane toilet. I thought it was a blast. At one point we were airborne for a second. I said, "whee, whee, whee," all the way home. The captain had to swerve much more than on the trip in and a couple of times I thought he was throwing in the towel and turning back to Fukuoka. It was nice to see Busan again because I was ready to get back to Korea and was completely out of the money I allotted for myself.

We met up with some Chinese friends at Haeundae Beach and jammed there for the remainder of the evening. I had been to that area before but until this time, I had never stepped foot onto the famous beach. Haeundae Beach is famous, damn it. Any Korean will tell you that. Actually, I have heard it is the most crowded beach in the world, but that's only in the designated "summer season" that Koreans collectively and arbitrarily make up every year. We missed that window by a few weeks, I think.

We even stayed in the same love motel I stayed in last time. The reason I chose it again is because the old woman at the desk is clearly on drugs. Every time I have seen her, she is barely conscious and definitely incoherent. Nevermind that she speaks only Korean. I can conduct a business transaction in my host country's language just fine, but with her it's definitely a chore. Last time, she randomly went into our rooms and once came out wearing one of our party's shoes. This time, she seemed too drugged to move much. Surprisingly, she still managed to take our money and give us a key. Maybe the meth hadn't taken full effect yet.

What set this trip apart is that I got to hit my first Korean casino. Yes, there are casinos in Korea, and a couple of them are smack dab in Haeundae. I even got a card for this one because I plan on going back. What are some differences between American and Korean casinos? To be honest, not much. Only two things that I can think of:

1) War. Yes, that's right. You can play war. For money. The ultimate game of chance. I watched a man lose more than I spent on my entire trip to Japan on one war hand.

2) In Korea, Steve Holcomb is up $50 in gambling. Yeah, I played war. I won $50 from war. So what? Paid for my subsequent night out. I think I like the simple games most. The poor man's roulette in America and war in Korea. Hmm, those last three words don't sound right together.

Not much else to say. I suppose this wraps up my Chuseok trip. Back to the grind with nonsensical posts about random crap that not even I care about. Tomorrow's post: Musings on the Coffee Maker at Work.

Tragic and Thoughtful Thursday: Japan, Day 3

It's a good day when you wake up in time for McDonald's breakfast. Yes, yes, it's terrible for me, but it sure is good in the morning...in Japan. We got on a fairly early bus bound for Nagasaki. Ah, the title reveal came early this time, didn't it? Well sometimes you gotta give the plot away because it's less important than the message...or something.

The bus ride was about two and a half hours and as time went by, the scenery became increasingly beautiful and dramatic. When we reached Nagasaki I knew immediately that I liked it. On three sides it is surrounded by mountains; the fourth is a beautiful natural port leading into the sea. With a population of about 400,000, it is not too large. It is complimented by a cable car system and copious green parks. There is also that dark fact that nothing there is beyond 65 years old.

Our first stop had to be, after walking throughout town, the atomic bomb museum. Let's be honest--that's the whole reason we came. The fact that Nagasaki was a really pleasant city was secondary. The museum was, as you could already guess, a sad, somber place to be. I can't say it was any more horrific than visiting the Holocaust Museum in D.C., but it was probably pretty equal. It was definitely not a place where you'd crack a smile or a joke. The hardest part was probably watching case studies of the victims. They videotaped survivors' stories and have them playing toward the end of the museum course, like the Holocaust Museum, with equally dramatic effect. By this point on the tour, you know the history of Nagasaki, it's people, the war leading up to the bomb being dropped, etc. But it still hits you every time when you see an old woman talk about her childhood being bed ridden for ten years and confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life, or a little girl who was trapped under a fallen, burning building whose gnarled, charcoaled mother found the strength to lift up that solid steel beam to free her before collapsing dead.

Let's get something straight though. Let's get deep. Even after seeing a museum pretty fully document the tragedy that took place on August 9th, 1945, I think it was the right decision to drop the bomb. The museum subtly stresses the point that the U.S. dropped the bomb to save lives over the long run, not end them in the short run. The museum in the city where the bomb was dropped made this point, albeit subtly. This is not pro-American patriotism. The reason is this: the Japanese were in the process of murdering millions of civilians during World War II. In the Philippines, in Korea, in China, in Southeast Asia. As the war pushed on in the Pacific, it was clear that the Japanese would not surrender easily, if ever, without drastic action. The fact that they were willing to kill themselves without provocation for their Emperor was a perfect example of this. Gaining ground island by island and invading Japan toward Tokyo would kill countless Americans and Japanese. Many more than those who died in the two atomic bombings. The decision to drop the bomb was, of course, a very difficult one to make, taking months. If you want to talk about pointless bombings and destruction of entire cities, let's talk about Dresden or other parts of Germany that were bombed by the Allies unnecessarily. But I digress.

Ultimately, this museum ends in a time line, depicting the buildup and disarmament of nuclear weapons over the short history they've been available. It stresses that we should strive for a world without nuclear weapons, which I completely agree with. The effects of nuclear bombing are wholly evil and, even now, not fully understood. I would agree that the U.S. dropped the bomb without completely knowing what it would do. Either way it's too late now.

We walked to the hypo center (about 200 ft. away from the museum) and stood for a while at the monument. Although it was in the middle of the city, it was really quiet and peaceful. It was dedicated as a park for prayer and meditation. A remaining pillar of the cathedral that was destroyed (the largest in East Asia at the time) is displayed by the monument for a little more effect. The nearby Peace Park just seemed like an extension of the hypo center with a real rainbow in the fountain and a dramatic sculpture centerpiece. It contained the ruins of the war prison that was destroyed.

Eventually we had enough sorrow for one day and decided to go to the top of Mt. Inasa for an overview of the city. I think it was worth the $14 round trip. What do you think?

We got back to Fukuoka fairly late and had a quick dinner that I forgot the name of. It was a tasty treat, as was the beer that we washed it down with. We stayed mainly on the streets in Tenjin, ending the night with a nice street ramyun and a much needed sleep. Tomorrow would be...Busan.

Weepingly Wet Wednesday: Japan, Day 2

The seed that was planted the day prior by Mike the bartender came to full fruition on Wednesday. Weepingly Wet Wednesday. Sidenote: I decided that the titles of my Japan posts should contain alliteration. Sorry for partying.

Anyway, blah blah blah...came to full fruition...and we woke up bright and early at a pathetic 10 AM to get on our way. Our ultimate goal today was Yanagawa, a fairly sleepy town 45 minutes south of Fukuoka. Yanagawa would probably be pretty worthless as a tourist attraction if it didn't have one thing: 470 km of canals. Even after this little tidbit, I'd argue that Yanagawa is not that exciting of a destination. They cart you in and give you funny Raiden hats and you sit on a boat for 70 minutes drinking beer and listening to the gondolier sing you down a peaceful canal with a few old buildings on it and then you're done. I can say it was still pretty neat, though. Our trip was (get ready for the title reference) made all the more exciting when the sky opened up and we got absolutely pissed on by rain. There is no cover in a small boat, so we and our funny hats took it like men and enjoyed it anyway. There was a long period of time when pictures were unable to be taken because of this common weather phenomenon so my documentation of this experience is minimal (or just photographically tragic).

While our trip out to Yanagawa was mired with a broken train and copious waiting, our trip back was painless and on time. We were ripe to try sushi in Japan, so we found an authentic place near Hakata Station and went for it, trying almost everything offered. Probably the second best sushi I've ever had (the first still being in Las Vegas of all places [happy now, Kristen?]). We hung out at the hostel for a bit and met a Dutch chick who, since growing up going to an international school, sounded remarkably American. We headed down to an island in the middle of town which is commonly known as the red-light district. Our new Dutch friend had a different idea of what a red-light district is. What we were met with was a panoply of bars, a bustling nightlife, and hundreds, if not thousands, of Japanese businessmen escorting decked out women all over the place. It was a pretty unique experience.We headed down the street a few blocks and found the riverside food stall street, where we stopped to get some really great ramyun and figure out our plan for the rest of the evening. It was peaceful looking at that dirty, filthy river and the lights all around among the hustle and bustle of the small food stands. We ended up back to the red light district to be met with another pretty unique experience. We found a bar that surely must have been a front for something. There we were in this lounge club with only us and this seven piece oldies band just going to town, nobody to listen. We would clap, and they'd pretend they were playing to a sold out crowd and we'd pretend we were part of a sold out crowd by making more noise than necessary. I think the lead singer got noticably sour when one of us mentioned that he probably touches little boys based on his appearance.

Doesn't he look like it? Still, it was a fun night. Our Japan journey would hit a climax with our final day...Tragic and Thoughtful Thursday.

Before I forget, I should talk about another subtle difference about Japan that I failed to mention earlier. You are probably aware of this from The Simpsons or some other American culture staple, but Japan has some complex toilets. When your toilets need instructions and has a separate thermostat, maybe you're taking it too far. On the bright side, the toilet seat was always heated and they're environmentally friendly.

Tornado Tuesday: Japan, Day 1

Japan was a blur of excitement, intrigue, happiness, fun, and sorrow. I may have just thrown a hodgepodge of adjectives into a spiked punchbowl and recited it as my first sentence, but it's kind of true. At least all those adjectives were good except one (which I will equate to tequila). I suppose each day is unique on its own and deserves its own post. Thus, I bring you: Tuesday.

It was a standard trip to Busan and even to the International Ferry Terminal, with a cab driver who was disgruntled because he had to chauffer four Americans (one honorarily so) a few blocks to the terminal for minimum cab fare. The difference between taking a hydrofoil and an airplane is minimal. There is check-in, baggage limits, immigration, and security. Even duty free shops. The only real difference, besides the obvious method of travel, is that you carry your baggage with you and security is a little bit more lax. I guess there's less chance of a hijacked boat crashing into a building than a hijacked plane. Otherwise, there are the lines, the waiting, the seats, the turbulence, the uncomfortable toilets, and the in-cabin movie.

Pretty uneventful early evening landing in Fukuoka. I noticed no difference from Korea except that I couldn't understand anyone. The differences would quickly reveal themselves the further we got from the ferry terminal. I remembered that they drove on the left side of the street (a dwindling trait of only some island nations) which would prove humorously annoying throughout the trip. Japan seemed cleaner, yet a little older. The people were polite (as in waiting for others to exit a subway car before attempting to get on). There weren't people smoking and drinking anywhere and everywhere. The first dinner we had was pretty amazing and I doubt we would have found similar quality from a random Korean restaurant in a random city.

The first night, we went to Tenjin, which is the "downtown" area of Fukuoka. We wandered up and down the streets looking for anything and everything nightlife-ish, but were met with minimal activity. Finally, we decided on a bar advertising Arrogant Bastard Ale, which is a rarity and impossible to find in Korea. Of course, the bar was out of it, so we got a decent pale ale (which turned out to be around $11 with the exchange rate) and talked with the bartender, Mike. He was the only one in the tiny bar. Mike was from New York and had a dirty sense of humor, but planted the idea that would blossom into our plan for the next day.

With the insane prices, we opted to go to another bar which turned out to be closed. Instead, we climbed to the top of the building and sat on the roof for a few hours and grossed ourselves out with our consumption of kit-kats and other various chocolate covered things. I think the next day the cleaners would think a foreigner tornado came sweeping through their rooftop.

Fukuwhatka?

With a lot less money (and maybe energy) than I was hoping for, I am taking off for Fukuoka, Japan tomorrow for a few days. My good fortune seems to be increasing after decreasing for a short period of time, and I hope this isn't like that whole "manic-depression" thing where each swing is bigger than the last and eventually it spirals out of control and you end up in a padded room with no stimulation or friends. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I hope my swing of good luck extends into the end of the week and my Japan trip turns out well (and cheaper than expected).


In other news, I woke up this morning just in time to stream the end of the football game wherein the Redskins lose to the Texans. That's one thing I'm really going to miss: having a couple of beers with friends while weatching Sunday football. Here, all the games come on either while I'm sleeping or while I just woke up or while I'm at school in the morning. No chance for getting a couple of beers with friends while I'm sleeping and they're 9,000 miles away. Thanks, God. Thanks for nuthin.

I guess since those are the only two things I have to update you on before my departure to Busan tomorrow that this will be a relatively short post. But, I had to rub it in one last time that I am, in fact, going to Japan tomorrow and simultaneously ruin any good karma I've built up by doing so. Damn it, here comes that padded room...

Hitchhiker's Guide to Teaching While Hungover

Disclaimer: Every now and then, I post a post that may or may not have a level of inappropriateness that will most likely make my worrying Nana sneer. This may or may not be one of them. Also, I've only done this twice. So afore you go spouting off about how I'm an alcoholic, let me assure you that I am not and that normally I have my shit together.

When you wake up (late, obviously, because you turned your alarm off in your sleep) to the sound of your co-teacher calling you, you will be startled. Pretend to already be awake. Put on your game face. You did not stay out late on a Wednesday night getting plastered with Korean girls in seedy bars downtown. You enjoyed a nice warm tea, snuggled up with a great book, and went to bed at a reasonable hour. You will get ready in record time and literally run to school to make up for lost time.

Luckily for you, your five classes will whiz by. This is partly because you are still drunk and, like a grinning fat kid learning to ride a bike, in complete disbelief at how you are still staying upright. Don't worry, your students already know what you did last night. You may live in a big city, but it might as well be the smallest town you've ever known. This is ok though, because you are a celebrity. You could poop on their desk and they would still love you.

As the day wears on, your drunkeness will subside and be replaced by pure hatred of life. You will be surprised at how much energy you have, but this energy will mostly be used reacting negatively to thirty loud students screaming and singing in unison. Everyone, including teachers who you've never spoken a word to before, will comment on how tired you look. Just shrug and accept.

Lunch may or may not make you hurl. Eat as much as you can and drink a lot of water. It will do wonders for you in the long run. Since you didn't have time to eat breakfast or drop the Cosby kids at the pool this morning, your body still needs to exchange meals. Find the one Western toilet with a lock on it and go to town. The children will crowd around outside and yell your name because it still amazes them that non-Koreans poop too, but you must carry on, wayward son.

Your afternoon should be spent lazily at your desk. Half sleeping, half Facebooking, half reading news you don't care about from back home. The fact that you can come up with three halves is a testament to how debilitated you have been today, and you wonder how effective your teaching was. Not that you particularly care because your students certainly don't. The ones who do care supplement their mediocre public education with private tutoring or after school academy anyway.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

영어 할수 있어요!

Hey, check me out. I've gone from the biggest loser you know to...maybe the second biggest loser you know. At least I'm blogging more frequently. See, wasn't that train analogy fairly relevant? I'm picking up steam again. Now if I could just adopt some sort of writing style that produces a flowing, coherent article then I'd be set fo' lyfe.

Nothing too groundbreaking to update you on. Just a couple of little things:

For some reason, I've never noticed this before probably two weeks ago, but it seems like at least once a period in each 5th and 6th grade class, someone falls over in their chair. Those kids are always leaning back, threatening their necks. I guess we did the same thing when we were their age. Too cool for school. But seriously, you see your friends falling over every single period, why not give it a rest?

If you ever want to piss off an Asian person who is proud of their English speaking abilities, just ask them to repeat after you: "lateral artery." All those years of pronunciation practice have just gone out the window.

Continuing with the language thing, if you've ever gotten far enough along studying a language, you'll realize that you can consume more than you produce. In other words, you can understand a lot more than you can speak. For whatever reason, whether it be shyness when conjugating verbs or lack of pronunciation skills, people don't speak as much as they understand. Also, there's the ability to pick up key words in some jumble of a sentence and getting "the gist." The gist is important. I can get the gist sometimes, even if only 1/100 times, but it's like a little lightbulb when you can put two and two together. This actually made me realize that Koreans, despite not being able to produce any semblence of English, have been exposed to enough English that they can consume and understand "the gist." So instead of reveling in how far I've come in learning Korean (mere inches out of a 500 mile track), I've been kicking myself over how many times I've probably made a complete ass of myself downtown assuming no one around me spoke my language.

My lunch always has a "dessert" item included. This may be something easy to identify like drinking yogurt, fruit, or sweet 빵. Sometimes it is impossible to identify. The designated dessert area is the top right bowl of the tray, but sometimes it is filled with things resembling a party at Corey Feldman's house. Today, I was unsure what was supposed to be dessert until I was about halfway done with it. I identified it as mandu-esque, which is a good thing, but not dessert material. Halfway through, when whatever soy/vinegar concoction they piled onto it was exhausted, I realized it was not mandu. It was frittered cucumber. That's when I could finally taste the sweetness, taste the intended flavor, taste the rainbow. It was actually pretty good and I would suggest the adventurous fritterers out there give it a whirl. Not nearly as sweet as apple fritters, but distinct in its own right. Hell, if it sucks just throw some soy/vinegar concoction on it (recipe pending).

I could keep going about more mundane things until it got down to telling you, "I found some crumbs on my knife this morning before breakfast," but I think we can spare each other that mess. I'll save the excitement for tomorrow's post. Just kidding. What did you think I'd start blogging every day?

Ready, Set...Sprint and Catch Up!

Welcome to the cop-out 3-weekends-in-1 post about what I've been up to for the past three weeks since vacation abruptly ended.

The short answer: not too much. If this satisfies you, you can stop reading now.

The long answer: not too much but I'll indulge you anyway. When I got back, I ran through the first week just catching up and getting acclimated to school again. I did not have to teach much (2 out of 5 ain't bad, as Meat Loaf should have said) because the children were probably more heartbroken than I was that school was back on. They hired a grief therapist to coach the children through their difficult loss.

That first weekend back was probably the most exciting of the three I will increasingly briefly mention. I can't for the life of me remember Friday, so that means I was most likely downtown disgracing myself and others, as I typically do on Friday nights.

Saturday the 28th was the highlight. During the day, we stepped over to Duryu Park for the International Body Painting Festival. What it should have been called is the Korea vs. Japan vs. Russia Body Painting Festival. Those wiley Russians are always throwing a wrench into the well oiled Korea vs. Japan machine.

Actually enjoying art, I was perhaps the only one of my group who took interest in what was happening. The way it was set up was 'they' (they say it's gonna rain) erected tents all around the grass field, wherein artists painted their model's skin. They had, I think, six hours to paint. Later at night (after we had long gone), they would have a "fashion" show where all the models would model, and the clappers would clap, and the judges would judge. They would give prizes to the best artist, the best model, the best design, etc. Two of the better entries:

A part of me is very sad that we didn't get to stay for the show. They were still in the midst of preparation when we left. While the audience waited for the main event, after exhausting their patience on the slow painting process, they could be entertained by various acts onstage. Acts included belly dancing shows (pictured above), a martial arts display, dog tricks, a Korean Idol type of contest, and comedy? If I spoke Korean I would give you a definitive answer to that one. The one who I thought should have won the whole Festival was this guy:

He wouldn't move unless someone went up to him to take a picture. When they went to pose, he would mechanically morph into a funny pose or face. He didn't ask for money, which is rare, isn't it? Oh Korea. Make no mistake because of these pictures. I am still lazy as hell when it comes to taking my camera anywhere. I would rather not have that one more protrusion in my pocket these days. Once fall hits and I have to wear long sleeves or jackets then I will consequently have more pockets I can put things like cameras in.

That night we went to Kyungpook University (경북대학교북문) to watch our friends play in their snazzy little rock band. I sure do love the devil's music.

The second week went by uneventfully. At some point in that time, it was determined that a group of us will go to Japan. At first, it was Osaka because I've heard Osaka kicks the pants off of Tokyo. But, being that we're going on a Korean national holiday where all the foreigners hightail it out of Korea, the ferries for Osaka were all booked. Instead we opted for Fukuoka. We'll have more time, probably spend less, and still get to experience a little taste of Japan. I'm very excited.

That second weekend was highlighted by a birthday party for someone I had never met before and some friends from Seoul visiting. Hmm, kind of end of story?

Third week: let's talk about Bob Dylan. I watched No Direction Home this past week. It's really long. Also, it's really good to get a perspective of where Bob comes from and kind of confirms that he's got a little ego. But I would too if I were Bob Dylan. Perhaps it's best at making you empathize with a man who was given a heavy burden (the voice of a generation, etc) and how he reacted to it. I'd still suggest it to anyone with an interest in the music, the man, or the times.

Friday, I went to what will probably be the last Korean baseball game of the season with a Steve Holcomb in attendance. I went with my male co-teacher. It was a good time, and it was nice to talk to him on a human, non-coworking, level. I never caught who won because it was tied 2-2 when we left at the top of the 10th inning. I'm willing to bet that Samsung won, just because they own Korea and probably called the CEO of LG and told him they would bury him in the Han River tomorrow if they didn't.

Saturday, I saw The Last Airbender. Ok, yes, it was entertaining. The acting was particularly atrocious and you can tell they are going for trilogy. They didn't even try to hide it. I still am wholly unimpressed with M. Night Shamalamadingdong as a director.

Aaaaaaannnnnndddddd...catching you up on my life is complete.

Familiarity

It's probably not worth the time it'll take you to scroll down, but below my dear mother's birthday post is the end of my vacation post. It's wholly negative and not satisfying in the least, kind of like watching an episode of the Gilmore Girls. So we are going to move on to more positive fare.

During my vacation, I had actually developed a longing for Korea. Something about that did not sit right with me. Here I was on two tropical islands, and a part of me wanted to get back to Korea. I don't think I longed for Korea herself, but for the ways and familiarity that had been revealed to me about Korea. If you're anything like me and you spend six months in this country, something will stick with you about it. The growing familiarity of the language, the familiarity of the mannerisms, the familiarity of the customs, the familiarity of your own developed rituals, the familiarity of an adopted home. I was as happy as an exhausted, about-to-take-a-4-hour-bus-ride-at-10-PM-and-going-to-work-the-next-morning elementary school teacher could be when I stepped off the plane at Incheon to that familiar Hangeul and that familiar 대한민국 immigration welcoming me back.

I also learned after catching up with friends about their vacation that I was not the only one who developed a dull longing to get back to Korea. I don't think it was the majority of people, but more than one, at least, mentioned to me that there was a place in their hearts for this crazy peninsula. Maybe it's because every day of our lives looks exactly like this:

I'm sorry I used the word familiar so much. It was the best I could do.

Also, I apologize for not updating more timely. I don't think I've recovered from the laziness yet. It's like a big locomotive beginning its long journey again after being stopped by a cow on the tracks. I probably should have just obliterated the cow and not slowed down at all, but cows can be enticing that way. Anyway, the locomotive takes a while to get going again. Starts off smooth and slow, but it takes some dude shoveling coal into it to get it up to an acceptable travel speed. Help me shovel coal!

It's Birthday Time Time!

This one will be short and sweet, but I had to take a moment to pay tribute to my dear mother. It's her birthday today, and I felt obligated to spend some time telling all you, my three readers, how wonderful a mother she is. Ever since I was born, I've never asked for a different mother. She's been there whenever I needed her. She's always been patient, understanding, helpful, and just laid back. I think she had a large part in helping me develop who I am, and I know I would not be where I am today if it was not for her.

Her life has not always been the easiest, and I knew that fact at maybe a younger age than I should have. I made it a point not to be a bad son for her sake, and I hope that I have helped make her life at least a little bit easier. I know in my heart of hearts that she is a wonderful person and I am so lucky to have such a great mother. So here's to you, Mom. I hope your birthday is great and I truly am sorry that I can't be around for it. Happy birthday!

In other news, I still have my last Philippines post to catch you up on. Look for that back in August. Depending on how you view this page, it may be below this post. Or, maybe I'll get lazy and just put it in September as it probably should be. Only a jerk back-dates his posts, right? Well, maybe I'm a jerk then. What do you think of that, huh?