Wednesday, October 9, 2013

I like stag beetles!



Dear Mom and Dad,
It's a stag beetle!!

                Have you ever had one of those days, where when you stop to look back on it, you just sort of go, “Huh?” “Did I really just experience that!?” 

                As if you couldn’t guess already, yes, I had one of those days.  It started out normal.  I woke up.

From there the day just started to spiral into something that resembles one of my weirder surrealistic dreams.  If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that I was actually stuck in the land of Nod. 

I wake up. Get ready for the day.  Everything normal, so far. There is a typhoon expected today.  Lots of rain, lots of wind.  Grab my taxi, while holding my umbrella down.  (It likes to flip in the wind.)

I get to school.  The kids have exams, no biggie.  I scrambled to find my coordinating teacher to get  my proctoring schedule.  He shows up five minutes before the first bell rings.  Meanwhile I have just gotten the schedule from the only other slightly English speaking teacher in the teachers’ room.  I have an exam to assist in proctoring first period.  I race to the classroom.  It’s a first year class that I haven’t been to yet.

 The students see me come in and there is a collective, “Whoa!!”  and a few courageous “Hello! Hello!” ‘s.   And one or two “Hello, how are you, I’m fine thank you” ’s  and a couple of “Nice to meet you!” ‘s before the exam starts.  Mostly I just stand in the back of the room and pretend to watch for cheating.  Mostly I’m just daydreaming about when I can sit down and catch my breath.  Once in a while, I get to replace a student’s test card and pretend that I’m actually doing something useful.  Even with 36 students on a class, this doesn’t happen as often as you’d think.  Or as you’d like, if you’re bored…

Second period I have a break, then third and fourth period I have first years and third years to help proctor.  Once again, I have been in neither of these classes, and know pretty much none of the students.  One of the first years kept repeating “Hello, teacher.” “Hello, hello, hello.” It was, well, not irritating, but a little exasperating after the second “Hello”.   Since I was passing out tests at the time, I mostly ignored it since I wasn’t all that close to the kid.  But, it annoyed the co-teacher enough that she snapped at him.  !”  (Stop that!)  Several of the boys kept turning around before they got their test cards.  Then the third years:  the boy in the front, (and by in the front, he was close enough to almost touch the board) kept peering up at me.  It was distracting enough that I didn’t really notice if others were, or not.  This is why I stand in the back of the classroom during exams…

Even still, all of this is not so unusual.  But the day before, I got conned by my co-teacher into joining in on a “field trip for the second years.”  Thinking that I had to join my second year students on a field trip, I was not exactly looking forward to this trip.  We were supposed to leave at 1:00.  But 1:00 comes and I’m surrounded by a group of teachers and all of the students have left the building.  Exams days are half days…
It slowly dawns on me; it is a field trip all right.  But not for the second year students.  It is a field trip for the second year teachers!  And on top of that the bus was an hour late.  So I am standing in a group of teachers just going with the flow!  The anticipation is running high in my co-workers.  High spirits and a couple of goofballs, from what I can tell.  Comedians here are called gagmen.  I am taught this word in connection with one co-worker in particular later in the day.  It was already rather apparent.  He was also armed with a camera…  This should have been a clue.

Finally the bus arrives.  Might I mention that there is a typhoon this day?  We are headed to a place a little over an hour away, called Boryeong Dam.  I was under the initial impression from the previous day that we would be heading to a coal museum in that area (oh, joy. But ok!)  Well, no.  That didn’t happen.  We headed to Boryeong Dam.  An hour later loaded with more snacks than I eat in a month, and one smart phone conversation with the art teacher later (I did manage to get an invite to her housewarming party.  When it’s finally built.) we made it to Boryeong Dam, and as we round the corner to a rather impressive view of a medium size dam, and the rock stairs built into the hill side across the river, we pass a large sign that says “No Photography”. 

Well, the bus climbs the hill to the top of the dam and we all pile out.  A few head to the bathrooms, and the rest of us amble over check out the view.  But our appreciation of the scenery is cut short, by a coordinated attempt at gathering everyone together in front of the carved rock sign that says in Korean “Boryeong Dam” (I could actually read it, yay!)  We quickly had our pictures taken, without umbrellas.  (May I say once again, there was a typhoon??)  Well, we spend less  than five minutes (I checked.) before we pile right back onto the bus…

Moderate Statuary
Seriously!?  I thought we were going to spend at least a few more minutes there!  We drove an hour and fifteen minutes to get to the dam and we took one picture and that was it!?  We were there for so short of a time, that I didn’t even have a chance to dig out my camera…

Well, then we head off and eventually pull into a strange little museum parking lot.  Lots of rock carvings, and baby deer on leashes;  a few carvings of the blushful sort.  There was a continuation of the theme in the main lobby.  There were a grand total of three rooms in the museum.  I spend most of my time in the side room.   Of course the somewhat riske artwork was in the entrance, and again we have to get our pictures taken.  In front the riske-est of them all.  As the only foreigner in the group, I am  given special attention throughout the entire trip, especially in the joining of photo groups.  No hiding in the back for me.  “Oh no.  영어선생come up front please.”  (Yeongeo sungseangnim –English teacher) We were there less than ten minutes.
Following the-well not leader, but the next best thing

Again, this was not the highlight of the day, yet.  We pile back into the bus.  And drive 100 meters across the parking lot.

We pile back out. (There’s still a typhoon…)  And visit an indoor garden park.  But not in a leisurely stroll type of fashion.  Oh no!  We march through that park as if we were being chased by rabid dogs.  By this time, I have finally gotten to my camera.  I try taking some pictures, but we were going so quickly many of them were a blur… Sorry!  We march right back out (after having been attacked by a neck swiping herbalist along the way.  Whatever it was, it was cold and smelled like Eucalyptus.)We get to the entrance and there I see a rather interesting truck shaped like a hippy stag beetle that quickly drives off before I can get a really good picture of it.  Once again the theme of my photos is “The Blur.”
A picture that's not blurry!
Well, whatever it is that we raced through the garden for, apparently isn’t ready so we head back in for another 20 minutes.  By this time, I am so tired of going through the garden that I just wait at the entrance with a group of the younger teachers.  All along this trip I just follow in the wake of whatever teacher I recognize and pretend like I know what is going on.  I really don’t…  I’m still figuring it out       /(o ^~^o)

Apparently, by the time the rest of the teachers get back from their second speedy perusal of the gardens, and after I am cheerfully required to give the names of such things as “bleeding hearts”, “carp and catfish”, “tangerine tree” ,“Rosemary, mint, and geranium”, we are finally ready to go.  I am glad to get back on the bus.

The hippy stage beetle. Better springs and it will actually be cute!
But wait!  We’re not getting on the bus!  We’re getting on that strange little vehicle that drove off earlier before I could get a good picture of it.  Once again, I fail to get a good picture of it.  But that is because I am suddenly on this green hippy stag beetle truck with 24 co-teachers and a small group of elderly men with their caretaker.  Abruptly, I find myself bouncing on a dirt road, through a statuary park, in a typhoon, in a hippy stag beetle.  Oh, yeah!

Luckily, most of the statuary this time is of the rather ordinary kind.  There is only so must riske-ness I can take in the presence of co-workers that I really don’t know well (or even if I do. ) This time, the statuary is mostly Korean quotes, and carvings of preserved Korean cultural songs.

 Oh, and then there was the random ancient Chinese military obstacle course and the two ostriches and the non-responsive pony.  By then my mental faculties were shutting down.

Dinner # 1.
Eventually, we find ourselves back at the bus, although this time I am escorted to one of the teacher’s cars and driven to the restaurant reserved for all of us.  We have tofu (-dubu) with octopus, crab legs, mushrooms and clams.  We eat quickly, and apparently we are actually on a schedule because my one co-teacher tries to round everyone up before they have actually finished eating.  We find ourselves back on the bus-again- and on our way back to school. 

This is when they broke out the norae-bang features of the bus.  They turn off the lights and turn on the colored lights, passing the microphone around and begin to sing.  There was a variety of songs and some of the most dignified of teachers broke out in enthusiastic song and dance…  I carefully declined the offer at the very beginning, and nobody missed my singing at all.

Bus norae-bang
 Eventually we make it back a little after 7:30 in the evening.  I am actually supposed to have dinner at 7:30 with friends for Diner’s Club across town, so I have to decline the offer of a ride home by my co-teacher.  I grab a cab at 7:45 and the trip that is supposed to take 20 minutes takes a little less than 10.  I must have grabbed the fasted taxi in town *sigh*  But I get there before 8:00!  I wander in- and I must have frightened my poor friends.

 “What’s wrong!?!?  Are you ok!?” 
“~~~Yeeaa~~haha….I think so…~~~”  It is samgyeopsal, one of my favorites, but I can’t eat much.  I was already too full!





Friday, October 4, 2013

TAXI!




Dear Mom and Dad,

I missed the bus this morning.  So I had to take a taxi this morning.  Taxis arefun.  And interesting.  And then there are the drivers!

You know, when I think about it, I dont think I ever rode in a taxi at home in the states.  I did in Scotland and London.  Well, at least, when I had enough spare change to share a cab with someone else

   But, yes, taxis are interesting and my ride this morning was fairly mild compared to some rides Ive had.  And some drivers.  Ooh, Im getting ahead of myself!  My driver this morning had a mild case of jackrabbit-itus.  Im not sure why.  But instead of steadily engaging the accelerator, there was this vrrm-erch, vrrm-erch for the entire 10 minute ride.  It wasnt an extreme vrrm-erch.  There was no whiplash involved.  This time.

My street.  I guess I could ask for the police station too!
I actually dont mind taking taxis here, now that Ive figured out the system.  I think the most important breakthrough I had in my taxi-taking experience was learning the word for post office 우체곡.  Why?  Because my apartment is right across the alley from the only post office in my neighborhood.  So all I have to say to the taxi driver is 신동오체국요.  Which basically, means ** post office, please."

  Ive learned a few other key landmarks to tell the taxi driver.  Of course, my schools, but also a few major shopping department stores.  Luckily I live in a town in which there are only one of every major department store, or I would be slightly out of luck

Oh, yes, thats another thing.  Road signs exist.  But apparently they dont mean much.  Ive tried giving my street address, and it doesnt exist even in the GPS  Landmarks are the way to get around, so ** post office works on every taxi driver.  They all know the post offices.  ** Middle school, or ** elementary school, are great to navigate by as well. 

taxi stand outside Lotte Mart
My neighborhood-university district
 I have to be careful though, with English names that have been Koreanized or as its said here, my Konglish. (No, Im not joking)  That is a blend of Korean and English in the Korean language to come up with words that are English in origin, but said with Korean pronunciation. 마트 is ma-teu or mart, 버스 is beo-seu, or bus. 터미날 is teo-mi-nal.  I leave that one up to you!  There is a store here called Lotte Mart (as is low-tay mart) but if I say mart the taxi driver doesnt understand and gets frustrated and may even say he doesnt know and he might not actually take you, or even ask you to find a different driver.  Thats if hes having a bad day.  So you must say it properly in Konglish.  Low-tay ma-teu yo. (Yo is the polite ending, definitely add this to the ends of most basic sentences, especially when speaking to elders or strangers.)

To navigate, the cities are divided up into neighborhoods.  So if there is more than one of a certain type of landmark, post offices for example, you must say the neighborhood first, then the landmark, and then yo.  Unless your word already ends in yo, then you add a Ka chuseyo.  Which means, Please, take me to…” or Please, go to …”

  Well back to taxi drivers.  Usually taxi drivers are men, mostly older men, which for some strange reason, never match their ID photosphotoshop maybe? Most photos are at least 20 years younger, with a rather fuller head of hair, andwait the photo has glasses??  The best was a photo of a younger man in his forties, but my driver must have had a serious identity crisis, because she didnt look anything like the photo

I feel like Cinderella
Some times the cabs are more fascinating than the driver, or even the scenery.  Who knew that pink and purple and disco balls went together outside of Disney??  And all of the evening dramas, documentaries, and news programs on the GPS?  Yep, it all contributes to the taxi driver ajussi being the second most dangerous vehicle on the road, closely following the scooter ajussi (ajussi means something like Mr. and pronounced ah-jew-she).  Most taxis that Ive been in have a hidden present left behind from me.  Fingernail indents!

My experience with the taxi driver ajussi has been a very quiet drive (except for the music or TV playing in the front dash).  But once in a while, there is a talkative one, whose curiosity about the foreigner in the backseat overcomes his reluctance to start a conversation.  Its like playing Russian roulette.  

In Gwangju
Ah, Russian.  That is a question that taxi driver ajussis (and regular ajussis, sometimes too) like to ask.  "Are you Russian?"  This is a question best answered with a resounding No!  I am sorry for the poor Russian foreigners here.  Unfortunately, Russian women do not have a good reputation here.

I had one driver ask this, and when I said 아니요! 미국사람입니다.  Which means, No! I am an American.  He became very animated in his conversation that consisted of a stream of Korean of which I understood only a small handful of words in no particular order or context, and body language which included the miming of a gun and a hand clasp.  What I concluded from the very long conversation was that he was saying something along the lines of Good, Russia and Korea fight (brr-brr-brr) America and Korea friends! (clasp).  Meanwhile we were speeding through three lanes of stop and go traffic, and he was spending more time looking at me than at the road. 
Enjoying our ride

 An additional road hazard is the right lane that doubles as the parking lane, bus lane, and intermediate lane between the road and sidewalk.  Thats another story.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Eating! Food is always good!

Dear Mom and Dad,

Wanju Wild Food Festival 2013-bamboo steamed samgyeopsal
   Emily Post would have a heart attack teaching me etiquette.  Seriously, a different fork for every course?  Not to mention all the extra spoons, plates, bowls, and all the blah, blah?  All I can say is that she must not do her own dishes!  And the whole “tear your toast into pieces before buttering”?  Really??  I hate bread crumbs in my butter.  I can’t stand having anything except butter in my butter.  As for all the crumbs all over the table,that’s definitely not my cup of tea! 



     There have to be some rules, right? Because without some sort of order there would be chaos and nothing would be accomplished by anyone.  Left is right.  Fork on the left, spoon and knife on the right.  Don’t double dip.  Don’t lean your elbows on the table.  No slurping your food.  Eat with your mouth closed.  Don’t talk with your mouth full.  Sit up straight.  Mom, I'm hearing your voice in my head as I type…^-^


    As with everything else here in Korea, I’m learning a new way of dining.  My first meal was with the elder of my meeting and his wife and our workers.  We had bulgogi at a very good restaurant in Jeonju at the Hanok Village.  I had to demonstrate my skill and dexterity with chopsticks.  I can use chopsticks.  Not with as great of dexterity as a lifelong user, but I will not starve.  Noodles and long slippery foods are tricky and provide my dining companions with great hilarity at times, but again, I will not go hungry.  Learning to use my rice spoon with my left hand to hold the noodles - now that takes practice!  Well my first meal, I learned that there is no “left is right”, no precise placement (at least for everyday meals) of spoon and chopstick.  Everything else is “Let’s eat!”  and the older the average age of the table is, it becomes "Don't get in my way!"

Natalie and I enjoying duck and banchan in Gwangju
     There is some passing of dishes…If you know the name of it…  Generally it is “eat a bit of this, then a bit of that, then a scoop of this and snag that before it’s gone.”  Most restaurant meals consist of the central dish surrounded by small dishes of very small servings of “banchan”.  Banchan are side dishes.  Side dishes are very, very important in Korean dining.  Many meals can consist almost entirely of banchan and they must be limitless at a restaurant.  If you want some more of something, just say “Yogi-yo!”, which means “(Come) Here, please” and hold the dish you want replaced.  Oh, and there usually are no plates.  Or if there are, they are very small, about the same size as the banchan dishes: imagine a tea saucer.  Everything is shared.
     By shared, I mean double dipping with your chopsticks is…wait for it…OK!  Using your own spoon to eat of the communal soup bowl is…OK.  Flipping meat or garlic on the grill is…well not really ok, but just because the spitting juices kinda hurt that close.  But grabbing it off the grill is…ok!  Using your hands to wrap your meat in a lettuce leaf is…great!  Popping the whole thing in your mouth in one bite is …fantastic!








  Slurping and the eating with open mouth thing is mostly ok too.  I was told one time by one of my Korean co-workers, a very elegant and professional looking woman, that I didn’t make sounds when I ate.  We were eating neang-myeong – cold ice water noodles, which are fantastic during summer time.  But they are long, very long noodles and it is very soupy.  I think she was worried that I didn't like it.  My co-teacher explained to her that it was rude to make sounds during eating in Western culture and that I was just being polite.  She was satisfied with that.

    Sit up straight is mostly the same, except when you sit on the floor.  Many traditional
Eating spicy nakji in Seoul (octopus)
restaurants will have sections (or maybe the whole restaurant will be that way) were there is floor seating.  The tables are about a foot high, often with a grill set in the middle.  The restaurant provides seat cushions for a little comfort and you may sit with your legs crossed, stretched out in front, to the side, one propped up.  (Almost) Anything goes for seating style.








     And, finally tearing things apart, well, there’s not much bread served here.  Really not even in the Italian restaurants and Western style restaurants I’ve been in.  Except at Outback Steakhouse.  Mmmm…steaks… Ah!!  Sorry!! Back on track!  So the whole cutting your food
Shabu-shabu
Shabu-shabu meat and veggies


etiquette is different.  Mostly because most food here is already bite sized – or rather chopstick sized.  Or steamed to the point where you can cut it with your chopsticks.  Which is why steak makes me salivate just hearing the word... 


Nokcha (green tea) jjajjangmyeon
      So, I told you about the very long noodles, right?  There’s a very handy solution to that here.  It’s a little known secret called –use a pair of scissors…  No! Really!! Just grab your kitchen scissors and cut your noodles in half or thirds or quarters or however many times you need to.  Sometimes those scissors are used for really long kimchi leaves and when ever long strips of meat come out for the grill (remember the middles of restaurant tables often come with grills) as the long strips of meat grills ever so nicely; when it is almost done, start cutting the long piece into short bite sized pieces to be wrapped into your lettuce leaves.  And again, it’s all because of the handy dandy, ever-so-useful scissors!  They're for more than just paper and cloth now!

Love you and have a great day!
ME ^_^!!!