Marchee Madness

This post has more than one objective. First, I want to relate to you my weekend in some disjointed way. So, I should really begin with my Saturday. I have no adequate pictures of the actual event, so I took this one of Tarzan with a monkey to subsidize it. Saturday marked the day after the 30th anniversary of a friend's birth, so we headed to Herb Hillz (read: Herb-euh Hill-jeuh), the eco-theme park in Southern Daegu. The relevance of the preceding Tarzan/monkey vine swinging paper mache statue is that the big draw in Herb Hillz (when herbs are not sprouting out of the dirt) is the eco-challenge. No, not some bullshit Captain Planet "recycling saves kittens" scheme, but a physical challenge involving rope climbing, zip lining, and pedaling a bike along a narrow platform 50 feet above the ground.

Of course, you are strapped in as though you are climbing the Aggrocrag, but it's still quite fun and, at times, scary. Indeed, by the end of it, the endorphin rush I got forced a smile to my otherwise stolid or scowling face.

The second objective is to point out two funny things I saw, also on Saturday. The first was at Herb Hillz (read: Herb-euh Hill-jeuh, remember?). Here you go:

Clearly, they are attempting Superman, but what makes it work on a whole new level is that "sopa" is the Korean word for "sofa" because they can't pronounce F. So, the obese female cut out clearly just needs help getting her fat ass off the couch for the pizza delivery guy. And I'm totally stealing Sopaman's line the next time someone asks me for help. "Hey, girl OK!"

The second was at a friend's apartment. Yesssss:

I, too, am anti-calculus. I assume that with the application of this paste, you become impervious to functions. Now, before we run away with this one, we should be aware that calculus can also mean tartar, and that was obviously the intention here. However, if you ever see an American toothpaste with "anti-calculus" on it, please let me know and I'll kick my own teeth in (and all the calculus that comes with them). It seems more like a political statement than a feature, doesn't it? This toothpaste is pro-subsidized healthcare, anti-communism, and anti-calculus

On Sunday, I didn't even get dressed. That's how I roll.

Ugh, I have a food baby.

Bob Dylan Wants To Kill Me

So, I've been back in Korea for a month and some change now. In that time, I have begun to have the same type of vivid, strange dreams I had been having last year when I first got here. I'm starting to think that it's not because of a sudden, drastic change in my living environment, but of a seasonal change in me...or the weather or something, I dunno. Maybe it's a nice little nightly postcard from Fukushima. Too soon?

Anyway, these dreams have ranged the whole spectrum of human emotion from slapstick comedy to romance to heartbreak to experiencing whatever my brain perceives is the sensation of death. Last night I had a dream that was somewhat tongue-in-cheek. I dreamt that Bob Dylan wanted to kill me. No, not the young, snarling, Like A Rolling Stone Bob Dylan, but the decrepid, nefarious, Dick Dastardly-esque Bob Dylan.

Oh, sorry, wrong picture.

MUTTLEYYYYYYY!!!!

So, Bob Dylan is trying to kill me for whatever reason (in fact, I don't remember if there was one), and someone in the dream had the clairvoyance to inform me that Bobby was planning to pay me a visit to take me to the cleaners. So, it is dark and I am living in a random cabin reminiscent of the one I spent the first seven years of my life in, and I see a black van pull up in the yard. I duck and hide because for some reason I'm afraid of Bob Dylan. I mean maybe he's got a gun, I don't know. Of course, it is a false alarm for dramatic effect.

Then another black van pulls up in dream time 5 minutes later or whatever. Same routine, I hide below the window sill line. Suddenly, I see this brick with a note rubber banded to it sail toward my window in what I thought was slow motion. Turns out, Bobby just threw it so softly that it just bounced off the window screen and then high-tailed it out of there, I guess in embarrassment. I never got to read the letter. I was hoping it would be a valid explanation of his Christian rock phase.

Berries and Leaves

So I have two experiences to relate to you folks and they both regard dinner with Koreans. The first took place last Wednesday. The week prior, I had drunkenly promised one of my male co-workers that I would go to dinner with him. To ice the cake, he requested that I invite my girlfriend (I know, I never mentioned it before on the blogosphere, but it's true. I am a taken man). I made the request with her and it was accepted. Wait a week.

We went out to 갈매기살 집 (some galmaegisal place) and had a pleasant enough dinner. Our third wheel did not possess the highest calibre of English, but the power of translation helped. We went to a bar afterwards (that I had unknowingly and indirectly introduced him to several months ago), and this is where the mood (at least for me) changed. While sipping on our last beer of the night, he says, almost verbatim, "Frankly, I don't think Koreans should date foreigners." Well, that sure is a nice thing to say when out on the town with a Korean/foreigner couple.

The next day, my girlfriend tells me that he was asking her things in Korean like, "What does your father think?" throughout the night. I was "frankly" taken aback because he had always been a nice guy, and we were in a foreigner bar when he said it. One that he has been to before, most likely with the unrealistic and hypocritical goal of picking up Western girls.

Let me pause there for some commentary. If you didn't know racism existed here, you do now. It's also much more blatant and accepted than in America. I've been to a couple of places that have refused to serve us because they are "Korean only" establishments. Even after that, I still believe people are entitled to their opinion, however bigoted and ignorant. Just don't say or do things that upset the balance, you know? I am used to it and can easily shrug it off and generally I think the pros of Korea far outweigh the cons, but I can only imagine what it's like for a Korean dating a foreigner. The general disapproval of the parents and the looks they sometimes get in public. It's gotta be tough. This topic deserves its own post, really, so let me move on to the happy ending (no, America, my co-worker does not get impaled with a stalactite a-la Cliffhanger).

In case you needed a visual.

Fast forward to Friday, when at 9 PM sharp I step into my frequented hair salon (no such things as barber shops [except ones doubling as brothels, so legit men get they hair did at hair salons, too]) to meet "the guy who cuts my hair" for sushi. He closes up (read: left his wife to cut peoples' hair) and we head to his brother's sushi restaurant.

I am going to venture to say that my Korean and his English are on par. I think our conversation was mostly in Korean and hand gesture language, but through it I learned that he was a really nice guy and it wasn't nearly as awkward as I thought it would be. We talked about life and baseball and food and all that, and it was pleasant. On top of all that, he does a good job of cutting my hair whenever I go into his salon.

So, the redeeming ending is here: after talking about his wife he asked me if I had a girlfriend. Still stinging from Wednesday, I reluctantly said yes. Is she Korean? Err, yes. Turns out, he was really happy about it, wanted to meet her, and talked about how good it was that I was dating. He said, essentially, "I hope you marry because Korean women are the best!" I, of course, laughed. However you read into it though, it was a genuine and nice statement that brought my approval of people into the positive a little more.

To sum up, in case you didn't gather: There are people who are ignorant jerks everywhere, whether it be due to lifestyle difference or difference of opinion or whatever. However, for every one of them, there are multiple people who would give you the shirt off their backs despite the fact that you have next to nothing in common with them. Those are the ones you should remember despite your mind being biologically hardwired to remember what berries and leaves to avoid in the forest...

Apsan...OWNED

Look at that stunning panorama shot of the muggy, yellow dust infested skyline of Daegu from afar. That's what the commanding views from atop Apsan (or Ap Mountain for those who only now know that "san" in Korean means "mountain") offer you after a surprisingly arduous hike or a quick cable car ride wherein you pay money and stand.

And I had forgotten about the random gym/playground that rests in the woods about a quarter of the way up: Who climbs into the woods a kilometer upwards to go work out? Granted, just about everybody was using it as a rest stop and not for its intended purpose (except for all those meddling kids!). Still, I can't help but wonder if there was some government mentality that they would be raising a legion of super soldiers who trained by climbing mountains and then working out at the conveniently placed gym. Or, maybe it's a coincidental relic from the Korean War. I don't know.

Anyway, so Sunday some friends and I made the journey to Apsan Park on a whim to conquer a mountain. Conquer a mountain we did. If you remember from a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I came here with my landlord Mr. Lee and we began the trek only to turn around a quarter of the way up (before the hard part) due to inclement weather. I now wonder if he was saving face and really wanted to turn around because it was, indeed, too difficult for a 60 year old jolly landlord. Although I wonder, I still doubt. That man may very well be capable of flight. He was keeping up with me admirably on the route that we took and probably would have surpassed me on the steeper incline. I digress. Back to my journey Sunday.

Once you get to the top (if you get to the top) you are rewarded with a stunning view of trees and sky. What you thought was the end of your journey is just a change. Now, after climbing straight up for 2.4 kilometers, you must make your way across three more mountain peaks to reach the end, where the cable car sits to whisk you back down. This is where the views lay:

You can just about make out me house from there, but it's a little to the right of this picture, most likely behind that shrubby little mountain top. But I did like Daegu's Woobang Tower and Duryu Park that I got in it.

Luckily, they have a restaurant (actually two) on the top of the mountain to satisfy your now ravenous apetite. You better like Korean food though.

Snippets Frommamind 2: Gellin' Like Magellan...which is a stupid rhyme in the first place

So, I have to skirt the issue of racism here by saying that many Koreans I know will, when walking somewhere, often take a strange "short cut" that is not a short cut. I can't quite explain why. Just the other day, I saw some teachers walking to school only a few meters in front of me (for those who measure things in terms of football fields, they were a few yards ahead of me). Instead of walking the way I always take to school (which was straight and directly in front of them), they cut left and disappeared down a back alley. When they re-emerged next to the school, I was ahead of them. Perhaps they stopped to tie a shoe or save a dying kitten, but I doubt it. That's not the first time this has happened.

Again, I can't explain why this happens. Thus, I over-applied and over-generalized this strange little quirk to account for the Western discovery of the "New World." The reason Koreans did not discover America is because they tried getting there via short cuts.

He's scowling because he just tried kimchi for the first time.

Anyway, I've kind of worn this thought out.

Blasts From The Past

Ladies, ladies, ladies. I'm about to disclose some information to you. Before I do, and before you get on your preachy soap box about how I could be doing more important things with my time, let me remind you of the hours you spend in front of the mirror applying make-up for God-knows-what reason. There, I feel more justified with my actions. I, friends and family, bought one of these: What is that, you ask? It's a Playstation 3. Don't gimme no lip. I'll list the reasons why I bought it.

1. I can play video games. New ones that are shiny and include lots and lots of gratuitous violence.

2. I can stream media from my laptop to my Playstation/crappy crappy TV (pictured here:)

via wireless internets. How spiffy is that?

3. It's a money saver! Yes, it cost money to buy, but now that I have it, instead of going out to drink all the time, I can stay in and drink all the time! Whee!

4. No more pesky friends!

5. Works great as a bookend for all those books that I'll never read now that I have a Playstation.

6. It is powered by enriched uranium.

7. Outside? What's that?

Ok, ok, I'm exaggerating. I'm not a game crazy kid (anymore), and can honestly say I've logged about two hours on the thing since I bought it a few days ago.

The main reason for this blog post, nestled in the fluff I have already presented to you, is to inform you of a blast from the past. Did I spend last night playing that expensive new gadget I bought? No, I spent last night playing Super Nintendo games with a free emulator on my laptop. It wasn't even my idea. My friend downloaded it onto my computer without my knowledge or consent. He does that sometimes. The only consolation is that I hooked up my PS3 controller to it. Anyone remember this gem?:

Or this one?:

I hated Dragon Chan more than brussel sprouts. Ah, the memories. I'm personally excited to bust out Sim City and Super Mario World or something...but I should really consider spending time with people/away from a screen.

I guess my next purchase, after I figure out how to send those SNES games to my Playstation (for free, of course), is a TV. Damn...then I'll never go outside.

Snippets Frommamind 1: Ugly Pan

I'm going to try a different direction with some posts. Short and to the point, they are...Snippets Frommamind (is that a jolly hobbit name or is it just me?).

If you met a man who looked remarkably like this: ...what would you do?

The particular man I refer to owns a restaurant that has tasty, tasty donkatsu. I struggle to finish it anyway. And it ain't because the rice is filling.