Kookies in China

I just got back from spending 5 days in Beijing, China.

It was an organized group trip with around 300 people. They were all English teachers like myself, mostly Canadian. From Busan, it was only a two hour flight. Our hotel in Beijing was a super-grand, massive, 5-star ordeal. It had 5 restaurants, two pool halls, indoor tennis courts, a bowling alley with several lanes, etc., etc.

The hard part about this trip... I was sick.

During the entire trip (and even still) I suffered from a very sore throat accompanied by a crazy hacking cough. As well, I've lost my hearing. I tried to enjoy myself as best I could, but at night I would have amazing coughing fits. I guzzled copious amounts of water and trudged onwards.

Beijing itself was busy. Very busy.

It's population is 16 million people. Toronto is just a quaint village in the grand scheme of things. The roads in Beijing were not only littered with cars, but with many, many, many bicycles too. They had their own wide lane on every road. Every bicycle looked like a grey, rusted 1977 Raleigh. How the locals can tell their bike from others when they are locked up together amongst hundreds of other exact-looking bikes is an amazing feat.

Then there's the sites.

I saw Tiananmen square, the Forbidden City, Summer Palace and the Temple of Heaven. But the highlight was the Great Wall of China.

The Great Wall consists mainly of stairs. Stairs, stairs, stairs. With just enough room for people to go up on the right side, and come down on the left side. There were four stations, each looking like a miniature castle with windows and turrets. The fourth station was at the very top. I would climb a long set of stairs wheezing because of my illness. Then, after reaching the station, I would go into an unstoppable coughing fit where everyone would look at me, thinking I would die. I thought I was going to die too. I would chug water and eventually the coughing would subside. Afterwards, I could climb the next long set of stairs.

But at the third station... it happened. I tossed my cookies off the Great Wall of China.

I couldn't help it. Being so high up, the air was thin. Shallow breaths and an uncontrollable coughing fit led me to desecrate one of the seven wonders of the world. I clutched the stone sides of a turret opening and heaved my breakfast from hundreds of feet up.

Afterwards, I felt much better.

I made it to the top successfully, still coughing all the way. I also purchased a shirt that said "I climbed the Great Wall of China". I want to take a marker, cross out "climbed" and write "puked off".

I think that would be more fitting.

Homekoming

My flight to Canada is finally booked after an interesting ordeal. Last Thursday, while I was getting my 6th dixie thimble cup of coffee, my school manager asked me, "So, have you booked your plane ticket yet?"

*PHHHHffffttttttttttt* (me doing a Jack Tripper spit-take)

With coffee drenched lips, I sputtered, "W-what??"

"You know, your plane ticket to Kanada?" she said (She accents the first letter, thus the capital 'K').

"I thought you guys were taking care of it?!?"

She stared back at me blankly. No sound. This is so not good I thought.

"Well, I guess I can look online..." I said just as the school bell went off, thus abruptly ending the conversation. I taught my remaining classes for the day, though I was preoccupied with my stunted exodus from Korea.

Fortunately, my friend & co-worker knew somebody who works at a travel agency. I asked her... begged her...to use this resource. What a pal she was. The very next day she had it sorted. Her friend found a round-trip ticket for 1.9 million won ($2,130 Cdn). The reason for the high cost was because: a) the short notice; and b) many Korean students are returning to Kanada to study.

No problem. The school's paying for it.

But alas, when I presented this to my manager, she nearly did a spit-take. "W-what?? That's too much!!"

I gave her the reasons and then she asked me if I could go later in the week such as Sept. 3rd or 4th instead of the 1st and still come back on the 15th, thus cutting my vacation time shorter. The rationale was that it's cheaper to fly on weekdays. I tactfully and gracefully explained the need for the full two weeks and wanting to go by the 1st.

Somehow it worked.

Yesterday, I was presented with my plane booking. *PHEW* was the big sigh of relief. I am now leaving the morning of Aug. 30th. It's Busan-to-Tokyo-to-Detroit-to-Toronto. Through the magic of time travel, I will arrive in Toronto on the same day: Aug. 30th at 7pm.

I go back to Korea on Sept. 15th.

So after all this turmoil, I got my plane ticket and an extra couple of days than originally planned. Nice. But for my fellow teachers, they must now cover 12 days instead of 10 thanks to my school's logistical prowess. Sorry guys.

Well Kanada, here I come!

Married vs. Single

The children in my school have to write daily diaries to practice their English writing skills. On Friday I asked my different classes to write about the pros and cons of being married or the pros and cons of being single. What I got back was very interesting, particularly the roles of men and women in a Korean marriage. Archie & Edith Bunker comes to mind when you see the comments. Here, for your reading pleasure, is the uncorrected English of what children (aged 12-15) think about marriage and being single.

FYI, I've noted 'M' for male student and 'F' for female student.

Marriage (Pros)
- You generate you and your husbands baby. (F)
- I can have my sons or daughter. (M) *Note: 'sons' is plural and 'daughter' is singular...hmnn, interesting.
- When I finish my work and arrive at home, they welcome to me. (M)
- If I'm dead, my husband and sons and daughters preparing my funeral. (F)
- I can live with my lover forever. (F)
- I didn't do housework very much. (M)
- Wife is clean up home because I'm comfortable. (M)
- I can go any party with my handsome husband. (F)
- We make new baby so, we carry on a family line. (M)
- I don't have to scared at night anymore. (F)
- If I have a married I'll be a convenient because my wife take good care of one's things so, I'll be comfortable because of wife. (M)

Marriage (Cons)
- You have to clean the house and cook. (F)
- It's needs a lot of money. (M)
- I can't play late night. (F)
- I can't meet other women. (M)
- Everyday you have to wake early. (F)
- Will get fat. (F)
- I must have much money for my sons and daughters. (F)
- Wife is yap at for being late or other reason. (M)
- Money will blow. (F)
- Wife is dig into private life. (M)
- I can't work anymore. (F)
- If your husband is not good, marriage life will be terrible. (F)
- I get a lots a stress. (F)
- Some men, and women yelling to their spouse, and also they hit their spouse too! (F)
- If you have your kid, compelled by society and home getting more harder and harder! (F)
- If I go to company maybe I have problem and I'll have a dining together so, I'll late to go home but my wife don't understand me so we have fight. (M)

Single (Pros)
- You can wake up when you want. (F)
- The house will be quiet. (F)
- I can play all night. (M)
- I can work always. (F)
- Freedom!! (M)
- Will meet many boys. (F)
- You are free! (F)

Single (Cons)
- It's a lot!!! (F)
- Usually house is dirty. (M)
- Alone and pity. (M)
- The life isn't stable. (F)
- I did housework many time. (M)

Right now, I'm torn on which is better. However, living in Korea and being single, my place is most definitely a mess! Cue the "All in the Family" theme song please. "Boy the way Glen Miller played..."

Seoul Train - Part II

The subway system in Seoul is something. The network spider-legs off in all directions with some stations receiving 3 different trains. Transferring at these stations is like Spadina station x 5. They have moving walkways to speed you and over 10 million Seoul residents along, but it's still an ordeal. The system itself is easy to follow. You just look at the map at the ticket booth and your destination will dictate what price you pay. The most I ever paid was 1,400 won ($1.60 Cdn).

The sad part is, I never got a seat.

Not once did I ever get a chance to sit down.. The subway was always full, so it was standing room only for me. But this gave me a great vantage point to view the TV monitor suspended from the ceiling. It would display commercials, but my favorite was the informative "What to do in case of..." spots.

They showed various situations in which most cases you should call 119 (Korea's version of 911). In one case, they show a strange looking bag sitting on the tracks. A man on the platform spots this and quickly calls 119 on his cell phone. Obviously, the spot expects EVERYONE to have a cell phone, and so does all of Korea. Not having a cell phone is preposterous. I didn't have a cell phone for my first two months here and the Korean people I met were puzzled by this. It seems owl letter carriers haven't caught on here like at Hogwarts.

Then, the doozy of all "What to do in case of..." spots came on.

The situation:
Everyone is sitting calmly inside the subway car when suddenly, a large leather-jacket wearing Korean (who resembled Sammo Hung) jumps up and starts shouting maniacally. In one hand he has a lighter ignited with a good amount of flame continuously gusting out; the other hand is wielding a non-labeled, 2 litre water bottle. We're to assume that this is no innocent water. Oh no. It's lighter fluid, I'm sure.

This was not a campfire smores moment. This Korean meant business.

But don't panic! The video was quite informative. It showed step-by-step what to do in case an obese, leather-jacket wearing Korean decides to have an indoor barbeque on a subway car.

What to do:
To diffuse the situation requires three people. Fortunately, the subway cars are always full, so three people - no problem. Person 1 (sitting behind the flaming assassins' right-hand) is to jump up, grab his lighter arm and extend it backwards, away from the bottle. Person 2 (sitting behind the flaming assassins' left-hand) is to jump up, grab his 2L lighter fluid bottle arm and extend it backwards, away from the lighter. Person 3 (anybody behind the flaming assassin) is to jump up and dial 119 on his cell phone.

The end.

All will end well if you (and two other noble citizens) follow the procedures above. The subdued flaming assassin's indoor cook-out will be completely quashed according to this video. What's scary is that the previous video spots showed possible, likely situations. So, what goes through my mind is this: Just how often does a chunky, flame toting Korean jump up in the train for a "What to do in case of..." video to be warranted??

The other thought I had was this: If both arms are extended backwards, couldn't the lighter and fluid still make contact behind his back?? After all, yoga is very popular in Korea, so maybe even an overweight assailant could connect the two behind his back, then *WHOOSH*.

Nonetheless, I'm ready to do my part. Courtesy of a very helpful video.

Seoul Train

I took a trip recently to Seoul via the KTX, Korea's bullet train. The first thing I noticed was how organized the whole system is. You buy your ticket and then feed it into a machine, just like a subway. So no conductor comes trotting down the aisle saying "Ticket please".

Smart.

Even smarter was that all the seats were assigned. This has always been my beef with VIA Rail back home. We're forced to stand in line for an hour and then mad-rush the train for the window seat. Here, you can show up 5 minutes before the train leaves and you'll be fine. Which I did.

The seats were ultra cushy too which made me wonder what first class was like. Once on our way, I noticed how ridiculously quiet it was in the car. People who spoke were talking in the most hushed whispers, moreso than a library. "You could hear a pin drop" is no longer just a saying, it was a reality. The TV monitor cracked into life and displayed short videos of the rules of the train. One of them was NO LOUD TALKING.

A-ha. Now I understand.

The TV monitor would also periodically display our train speed. I watched as the number climbed and climbed and climbed. At one point, it started rolling over into 290 km/h. The train was shaking like the Millennium Falcon going through an asteroid field. And still the number kept climbing, but slowly, into decimals.

297.3... 297.8...298.2....and so on.

At peak, it reached 301.9 km/h. Outside the window, it looked like a Salvador Dali painting. The trees blurred and the landscape melted like those old "In the Land of Dairy Queen" commercials with the fudge mountains and chocolate rivers cascading amongst the nougat rocks.

How crazy would it be to try peeing in the washroom at this speed - STANDING UP - I thought.

Once it dropped down to a semi-calm 270 km/h, the snack cart came. I decided to have a coffee to shake up my nerves some more. In Korea, I haven't learned the money language, so no matter what they say, I always hand over a 10,000 won bill (a little more than 10 bucks Cdn) and wait for my change. After getting my coffee, I gave my money and the change I got back was 3,000 won. That's it?!? 3,000 won change?!?

It was Train Robbery.

My train robber didn't wear a cowboy hat, red handkerchief or point a six-shooter at me. It was a beautiful Korean woman wearing a smart red-blazer and black skirt combination. The coffee cost me 7,000 won which is 8 dollars Canadian. Great Caesar's Ghost! Even Starbucks would freak at this price! To add insult to injury, the coffee cup was about the size of a medium at Tim Horton's. Wow. All I thought was, never again.

So the KTX arrived in Seoul 3 hours later and my wallet 8 dollars shorter.

Awesome.

I highly recommend being financially sodomized at nearly 300 km/h if you're ever in Korea.

Tell 'em Dan sent you.

Korporal Punishment

A Korean friend of mine regaled me with the tale of what happened to her when she wet the bed as a kid. The parents, on top of doing laundry, will administer a very unusual punishment. After soiling the bed, the offending child is required to perform the following activity the next day:

Step #1: The child must wear a strange, wooden headdress (see the attached picture).
Step #2: After donning the headdress, the child must go over to their neighbours house, knock on the door and ask for salt.

That's it.

After this utterly horrifying embarassment, the salt was brought home. My friend couldn't explain what the salt was for. As far as I know, the salt was either thrown out or perhaps used in some Korean dish that day.

Some enuresis studies back home indicate that children who wet the bed is a result of neglection on the parents part. Well, in Korea, after turning your bed into a swimming pool, you definitely get the attention of your parents... AND the neighbours.

This makes me think of my childhood and imagining that I had to perform this corporal punishment. The definition of corporal punishment is the infliction of pain. Well, I can't think of anything more painful then having to dress up in some weird wooden headdress and beg for salt from the neighbours.

This is a depressing version of Halloween.

Growing up, most of my neighbours were grizzled, jaded people. Particularly one house with a man my brothers and I nicknamed "Grumbles". I believed him to be a retired, crotchety, old prospector. He loathed children and having 5 brothers and 2 sisters, we were considered an infestation on the street. I can just picture walking up to his house in my wooden garment and asking for salt. He'd probably force me to tuck my pant legs into my socks and pour the salt down my trousers.

While being in Korea, I think I'll watch my drinking intake... just in case.

Air Konditioning

Rain season is here and it sucks. From the end of June until about the third week of July, it's grey skies with on-again, off-again rain. Not to mention the unbearable humidity. Wearing pants to school these days blows.

Thank Zeus for air conditioning.

However, a teacher at my school is constantly turning off the air conditioner. Why oh why does this person wish to suffer so? Masochistic perhaps? Or maybe they believe in fan-death, which also carries over to air conditioners too. Why can't they just adjust the temperature? Instead, when nobody is looking, *click*, off it goes and the school office turns into Hades.

This is an ongoing battle. Like the rain, we have on-again, off-again air conditioning.

In my classroom, the air conditioner is on and everyone loves it, save for one kid. Sorry junior. Majority rules. Interesting though is that whenever I leave the classroom for a second to make a photocopy, I will come back to find that someone has opened the window?!? "Who opened the window?" I always ask only to be met with blank stares, pretending that they didn't understand my question. I'll close it, then later have to pop back into the office for something, come back and...ta-da, the window's open again. Damn poltergeist!

Actually, it's fan-death averted.

If a fan or a/c is on, it is believed that a window should be open a crack. Otherwise, you'll meet your demise. I've also been jumping into taxis lately and the a/c will be on, but windows are cracked open. Don't they know this negates the effects of the air conditioning?

So it looks like I'll suffer through the sticky humidity of rain season with pseudo-air conditioning.

If I die, which it looks like I will, you'll know it won't be because of fan death.

30 Sekonds of Diarrhea

My previous occupation was Advertising, so I can't help analyze the TV commercials here. For the most part, they're as funny, stylish or as annoying as the ones back home.

Except for one diarrhea ad.

This particular commercial opens with four Korean women giggling in an immaculate white washroom (Note: The washrooms here are anything but immaculate!). One of the women pops a laxative pill, puts on a race car driver's helmet, and enters the middle stall. The other women look on with ear-to-ear smiles.

The helmet wearing woman sits on the toilet and then the whole stall revs up. RRRrrrrrr. Sound effects and all. The stall shakes tremendously and WHOOSH!

Turbo Diarrhea.

Her hair flails from some unknown wind while she bares a gaping, open mouthed smile shortly followed by laughter. Cut to a product shot. It's a close-up of the pills which are lime green, cylindrical and apparently work very very well.

Cut to the woman rejoining her friends in front of the sinks after expunging the contents of her stomach. At this point, I can't believe her friends were in the washroom the whole time, waiting. Wow. I know girls go to washrooms in groups, but I thought diarrhea is an automatic veto for that sort of thing.

Not in Korea.

The cluster of girls are all smiles and laughs. The helmet carrying woman, turns to the camera and says, excitedly, two Korean words. As soon as she hits the second word, her free arm does an umpires' "your safe" gesture. THE END.

Diarrhea never seemed so exciting.

Wake Up Kall

For the past couple of weeks I've had the pleasure of a Korean wake up call.

Every morning, around 8 o'clock, a truck full of fruit under a canopy will park itself on the corner, beside my building. To sell their wares, it's equipped with a Blues Brothers megaphone and a looping recording of a very loud sales pitch. The seller needs only to drive the truck while the recording plays non-stop, the following message:

"Bwow-wa-wa-wow-wow, mmmph meya, wa-wa wow-wow...."

It sounds exactly like a Charlie Brown cartoon teacher operating a fast food drive-thru speaker. This truck will blast its message on the street corner for about five minutes, then do a drive by of my building looking for people who desire fruit at 8am in the morning. It still blasts it's "fruit or else!" message as it passes under my window.

I guess this fruit truck is the Korean version of the ice-cream truck back home, except there's no soft jingle of bells. Just a Charlie Brown teacher chastising me about not doing my homework. Instinctively, I always jerk awake replying "Yes Ma'am" sheepishly.

I'm faced with Peppermint Patty's nightmare: An angry, incoherent elder.

At my school, I work from 2pm-10pm and then usually go out for food and/or drinks afterwards. So I don't get to bed until two or sometimes even 4am. Despite this, the fruit truck insists I wake up at 8am. No rooster. No alarm clock. Just a deafening message offering fruit for breakfast.

I'm thinking of buying all the fruit he has to sell to put a stop to this. But, for the month of August, our school schedule will change to 9am-5pm. Given this, I'll definitely need this loud-speaker in August to provide me with an 8am wake up call. I'll thank him for the service.

And of course, have fruit for breakfast.

L-shaped Women

Walking around Busan, you can't help but notice the staggering beauty of Korean girls. Slim, fashionable and striding along sidewalks in heels that seem ridiculously comfortable to them, regardless of the uneven ground beneath their feet. They're ubiquitous in Busan. Trying to spot one that's even slightly out of shape or flawed in some way takes some doing.

Then along comes the L-shaped Women.

Amongst the Korean Stepford Wives, there stands out elderly ladies who are permanently hunched over. These poor old women, who look no less than 80 years old, are forever folded in half. They look like the old man on the cover of Led Zeppelin 4, minus the bundle of sticks. But they have the wizened features of someone who could dispense limitless knowledge. I think they should be on top of Korean mountains providing sage advice to fearless climbers. Instead, they walk the street, permanently hunched, making eye-contact with the waists of people who walk by.

What have they been carrying for 80 years?!?!?

I feel like I'll see them again one day on a Fox Television episode of "When Yoga Goes Wrong". Needing closure, I asked one of my Korean friends about the L-shaped Women. He told me that it's the result of calcium deficiency (Obviously, he's much smarter than me). With next to no milk and cheese in the Korean diet, this is the possible end result.

To think that the outcome for the myriad of Korean beauties I see are to grow old and take on the form of a Sesame Street character letter is pretty scary. I now think that the "Got Milk?" ads back home got it all wrong. Most of them show some athletically fit, drop-dead gorgeous girl with a milk moustache. I propose a new campaign: Ads that say "Drink Milk...Or Else" and show a picture of an L-shaped Woman.

Or the cover of Led Zeppelin 4, minus the bundle of sticks.

Konglish 101

Konglish is a term for Korean-English which means one or all of the following:

a) Mixing Korean words with English words
b) Misspelled books and signs
c) Broken English (spoken or written)

The children at my school are notorious for all of these, mostly (c). I've written some of the dialogue below that I've experienced over the past few months. Some of it is correct English, but it's just so damn funny that I've included it here. So in the tradition of Bill Cosby, kids say the darnedest things...

Me: Why didn't you do your homework?
Student: I'm not understand this.

Me: For homework, finish exercise three on page 57.
Student: Dan is babo!
(Note: 'Babo' is the korean word for 'stupid')

Me (On the phone): Are you ready for phone checking?
Student: Yes.
Me: Okay, turn to page 21 of your textbook for your first question.
Student: I can't. I don't have book.
Me: Okay, I'll wait while you go and get your textbook.
Student: Teacher... I'm on toilet.

Me: Copy the sentences on this page please.
Student: Copy?
Me: Yes.
Student: Copy and donuts?

Student: Teacher, are you married?
Me: No.
Student: Why not?

Me: Today, we're going to talk about sharks. Does anyone know anything about sharks?
Student: Teacher, sharks is very delicious! Very expensive!

Me: What do you think of nude models?
Student #1 (girl): Not smart.
Student #2 (girl): Slim.
Student #3 (boy): Beautiful.
Student #4 (boy): Sexy.
Student #5 (boy): I want it!
(Note: Hey, gimme a break! The topic was in the textbook and this was an advanced class, discussing stereotypes of nude models, politicians, teachers, etc.)

Me: What do you think of public breastfeeding?
Student: Teacher, I don't want to make a baby in public.
(Note: Again, this was my advanced class. The student meant to say 'milk'.)

Student (boy): Teacher, Jiny punch me!
Me: Jiny...no punching.
Student (Jiny): I NOT PUNCH!

Me: Billy, can you give me the answer to number two?
Student (Billy): Skip.

Me: Tom... where's your book?
Student (Tom): Book no!

Me: How old are you?
Student: I'm fine thank you. And you?

That's all folks!

For now...

Fan-tastic Fable

I apologize to the masses for my literary absence. To me, it seems there's been no Korea Kapers lately. My recent exploits have just had me toiling away at the school and visiting bars or restaurants on weekends. But today, I had a revelation. Almost everything I experience is a Korea Kaper, even when I think it's a little thing.

Today's little thing: Fan Death.

It's exactly as it reads. Death by fan. Apparently in Korea, people have died because of leaving a fan on. And it is believed that YOU will DIE if you leave a fan on...especially while you sleep. Furthermore, Doctors will sign the death certificate as "Fan Death".

I first heard about this at a party from my Canadian compadre, Denis. I couldn't believe what he was telling me. In probing the Korean people over the past while, yeah, many of them believe it. They really believe it.

I tried to think of a Canadian-related version and the best I can come up with is the people who slip, fall and die from shovelling snow off of their roof in the Winter. What do we call this? "Snow Death"? "Stupidity"?

Because of "Fan Death", fans in Korea have timers. I've told some Koreans that many fans back home don't have timers. The look I received was that if you told someone you rock climb without a rope and harness.

Denis, being a risk-taker, has proposed a stunt: In true David Blaine fashion, he wants to sit in a clear glass booth for 30 days in downtown Busan with several fans inside, constantly running. That's right people. And NO TIMERS! Call him cavalier, call him mad, but the man is on a mission.

He figures that summer will be the best time to pull off this feat. I only hope that following the 30 days, I won't be writing his obituary. In truth, he will probably be the most comfortable person in Busan with fans running 24-7 during peak summer.

Godspeed Denis and go make Korean history.

Koins

I've now reached the mid-point of my stay here in Korea. I've hit the six month mark and thoughts turn to what will happen when I get back home. In addition to things that I miss, there are things that I don't.

Coin exchange is one of those things.

Here, no matter where I go, whenever there's a transaction, coins are ALWAYS placed into my hand if it is outstretched in front of the cashier. I've never had change placed onto the counter.

Back home, it's a crap shoot.

I could have my hand ready to receive the coins and *ca-chink*, *ca-chink*. The clerk drops them on the counter while I stand there dumbfounded. I then have to 180 my open palm, come down onto the change, and swiffer it off the ledge into my left hand.

It takes seconds, but it's annoying.

Why was my hand dismissed I always wonder? Maybe the cashier doubles as a psychic palm reader and saw misfortune in my future. Taken aghast, the clerk accidentally dropped the coins onto the counter and is too speechless over my bad karma to apologize.

I'm reminded of one particular place where the change on the counter scenario happened frequently. It was a lunch spot near my last employment. They had amazing pita sandwiches, which kept me coming back. After getting my hummus pita, I'd sidestep to the cashier, hand her my money, then stand there with an open palm.

*CA-CHINK*, *CA-CHINK*. My hand was invisible.

How could she not see that by cupping my palm, I magically morphed into a change-holding vessel? Instead, heads & tales stared up at me from the glass counter. My brain went to Def-Con 1. If I had any psionic ability, my mind would've flung the cashier backwards into the dressing table, followed by a cool one-liner: "Keep the change!"

It gets worse.

For this particular glass counter, I couldn't sweep the change into my hand. There was a metallic strip at the edge of the counter with a lip that stopped all coins. I could zamboni-palm the change to the edge, but that's it. I'm forced to pluck each coin, one by one, off a sheer, smooth surface with my thick digits.

And as a guy with no elongated nails, this is a trying task.

I considered wrapping my hand with masking tape in reverse so that I could speed up this process. Or bringing a magnet. Instead, I meticulously try to retrieve each individual coin while the line behind me backs up, waiting to pay for their food and be victimized by the change-dropping cashier.

Why did I keep going back? Probably so I could write this story.

Don't Tell Mama

A few weekends ago I was drinking at my favourite neighbourhood hangout, Harlem Beer Market.

Harlem is a very cool, loft-style looking place with painted pipes and exposed bricks. It's a self-serve beer market where clear-glass fridges face outwards to reveal beers from around the world beckoning your palate. You open the fridge, help yourself and pay at a cash register. Here, a bottle of Moosehead is 3,300 won (Today's rate: $4.15 Cdn).

And that's one of the more expensive beers in the place.

My favourite, Cafri, a Korean beer that tastes a lot like Corona, is 1,500 won per bottle ($1.89 Cdn).

So I was at Harlem Beer Market with the infamous Kami, who has since recovered from the speaker stalactite that came crashing down on him on New Year's. We were joined by a couple of Kami's korean friends. After many beers, the guys wanted to hit a club, so we went on a 15 minute walk through the labyrinth of streets that traverse my neighbourhood and came upon a neon spectacle. Large, blinking korean characters were above a vast double doorway coaxing us in.

Kami leans over and with an index finger raised to his lips, he whispers, "Shhhh. Don't tell Mama." which causes me to laugh.

We stand there in front of the doorway for a moment and I ask, "Kami - what's the name of this club?"

"What the $^&$#!" he says, "I just TOLD you. It's 'Don't Tell Mama'!"

"Oh..." I said and we proceeded in.

After descending down a very large spiral staircase, we were at the opening of what was one of the largest clubs I've seen. It was huge. Ridiculously huge. Rows and rows of tables and benches towards the front, a very large dance floor at the back, and behind it was a raised broadway stage. We sat down at one of the booths and the waiter came over and took our orders. After he brought food and beer...he brought women.

Seriously. He brought women.

I watched as the waiter went to a booth full of girls and led them by hand to our table. They weren't working girls. They were just other club-goers. The girls took up book-end spots around us and we started talking to them. They stayed for a few minutes, drank some of our beer, and then scurried off to the dance floor. No sooner had they left, the waiter sprung into action, went to another table of unsuspecting girls, and dragged them over to us.

I say "drag" because the girls put on a show of reluctance while the waiter grips their elbow ever so softly.

This was going on all around the bar. Squadrons of waiters were running around like worker bees escorting female club-goers to tables with males.

After talking to Kami, I got the low-down: Korean culture is very conservative. So much so, that guys and girls have a hard time meeting each other. The people here need a meeting/dating catalyst and this club is it: Guys come here knowing that females are going to be brought to their tables, and the females go knowing that they are going to be dragged from table to table. The females put on a show, feigning like they don't want to be led away.

I said to Kami, "They wouldn't come here if they truly didn't want to be led to other tables and set up with guys. They would've gone to a regular dance club, so their 10-second protest is all an act, right?"

"Now you're thinking like a Korean," Kami said and clinged his glass against mine.

Don't Tell Mama gets better. They occasionally have contests. One such contest, at 4am when everyone has liquid courage in them, is one-thousand dollars to the girl who takes off the most amount of clothes on stage. Again, because of the conservative culture, a few girls get on stage and take off a boot or a shoe to start. It's very slow...painfully slow, with constant coaxing by the dee-jay to get the girls to reveal more while the girls hold up one hand, cupping their mouths and do that typical childish, embarrassed giggle.

This contest takes forever.

In Canada, this would be a speed contest! $1000 bucks?!? Hell, I got female friends who would shed their clothing faster than the dee-jay could announce the rules!

So that's Don't Tell Your Mama. A den of dating and debauchery in the eyes of the locals here. But back in Canada, this is any night at the Rose and Crown with my friend Andrea, minus the thousand bucks.

Dan

Rubik's Kube

As you know, a few weeks ago I was at Muju Ski Resort carving through mass amounts of artificial snow. My school director wouldn't let me open my wallet for anything. Rentals, food, accommodation... all gratis. How do you repay such overwhelming generosity?

With a cake of course!

I asked my Korean colleagues what was an appropriate gift and cake was the answer. I picked up a beautiful chocolate number at a bakery here called Paris Baguette. I also had it in my mind to get his family wine and a toy for their 10 year old son, Eric, who acted as my translator for that weekend. The wine and toy were to be obtained at Lotte Mart.

Lotte Mart is a multi-leveled Wal-Mart, offering everything from clothes to electronics. On the 1st floor, groceries are sold and free food samples are offered every few feet by model-esque Korean girls in shorts, stockings and ankle high boots. I stopped at every one. I was hungry.

After procuring the wine, I made my way to the 3rd floor and wandered up and down the toy aisles. I soon found myself in the pre-school section. There, nestled amongst the 0-6 month old toys, was a Rubik's Cube.

A Rubik's Cube?!?

And not just one. There were several behind it in case a slew of Korean mothers came into the store, in a Cabbage-Patch-Kid-like frenzy, seeking higher education for their newborn offspring. Erno Rubik, the inventor of the cube, would be proud. He would also be pissed. For the name on this 0-6 month old toy was "Edison's Cube". Come to think of it, Edison's descendants would be pissed too.

It's lawsuits all around.

A video of my nephew after 6 months revealed him in a jumper, bungee jumping with glee and his tiny hands in apple-like fists. How these could clench the cube, let alone solve it, is mind-boggling. There's also the added dimension of the cube becoming slick with six month old saliva, making the sucker slippery to hold or turn the tumblers.

Being a former marketer, I figure this is just a point-of-sale toy. A mother purchasing a 0-6 month old squeeze-toy for her newborn must not forget the much-older child who may become jealous. Purchase the cube and all will be well in the household.

But if this is not the case, then as Justin Timberlake says, "Go Baby Go!"

Dan

P.S. I ended up getting Jenga for Eric. I hope his intelligence isn't insulted.

Kocktails and Kulture

Many people have asked me how I've dealt with the culture shock. It's actually been easy. I've never been utterly confused or frustrated at any point. I stumbled a little maybe when it comes to ordering food, but overall it's been okay.

Except for pouring etiquette.

There are a number of rules when it comes to pouring beer or soju (Korean vodka). It took me a few drinking outings to get it down pat, but it goes like this:

Section 1.0
1.1 NEVER pour your own drink... EVER. Period.


Section 2.0
2.1 POURING

Subsection 2.1(a) Pouring For Someone Older:
Use two hands on the pitcher or bottle if pouring into the glass of someone who's older than you.

Subsection 2.1(b) Pouring For Someone Younger:
Use one hand if they're younger and place the other hand across your chest mid-way below the armpit (think of it as a one-handed self hug).

Subsection 2.1(c) First & Subsequent Rounds:
On the first round of drinks, pour from eldest to youngest; after that, you just pour whenever you see someone's glass empty.


Section 3.0
3.1 RECEIVING

Subsection 3.1(a) Holding Your Glass For Someone Older:
Hold your glass with two hands if the person pouring is older than you (even if it's the soju shotglass, you MUST use two hands).

Subsection 3.1(b) Holding Your Glass For Someone Younger:
Hold your glass with one hand if the person pouring is younger than you. The other hand can just be at your side or utilize the one-handed self hug (formal).

Subsection 3.1(c) Holding Your Glass For Someone The Same Age:
See Subsection 3.1(b), same rule applies.


Section 4.0
4.1 EMPTY GLASS

Subsection 4.1(a) Patience:
You can sit and wait for someone to notice. This is never long around Koreans.

Subsection 4.1(b) Impatient OR Thirsty:
You can pick up the pitcher or bottle and just hand it to someone. That's the sign for them to pour your drink. They may also apologize for not noticing.

Subsection 4.1(c) Super Impatient OR Tremendously Thirsty:
You STILL cannot pour your own drink!


That's the rules and they are strictly followed until the cab ride home. I got used to them fairly fast and realized how super-cordial Korean people are to one another.

Now try adhering to these rules after polishing off many a drink! Little do they know, the Koreans have accidentally invented a drinking game for us Canadians.

Cheers!

Dan

If you build it, Koreans will kome...

If you build any tourist attraction in Korea, it will instantly be swarmed by numerous Koreans.

Muju Ski Resort is no exception.

This past weekend found me spending time with one of my favourite hobbies: Skiing. The skiing at Muju was impeccable with an unending view of mountains, mountains and more mountains.

But also, people, people and more people.

I've never seen so many people at a ski resort in all my life. The chair lift lines were impatiently long. At one point I waited 45 minutes. However, this is offset the longest ski runs I've ever done. One in particular is called 'Silk Road' and it is 6.1 km long. To get to the top, you either take a gondola (for an extra fee) or two chairlifts (which takes 20 minutes to reach the top). At the peak, the start of Silk Road, the view is nothing short of mesmerizing.

As for the weather, it was the warmest climate I've ever skied in. In the pictures, I'm donned in a winter jacket and hat, but don't be fooled. That sun was piercing and I found myself way overdressed.

Attached is one of many pictures I took. I was snapping pictures at every vantage point possible during this trip. Whenever I exited the ski lift, I whipped out the camera like a six-shooter. Aside from the mountainous views, take a look at the number of people in the pic above. All those tiny dots, those aren't an army of ants, those are Koreans. And they're here for one thing: FUN.

Enjoy,

Dan

Smoking is Kool - Part II

Following up yesterday's story, I thought it would be interesting to share one cultural tidbit: It's considered rude to smoke outside near older people. Inside, that's okay. But outside, be mindful that there are no older people around. It's considered very offensive.

I was reminded of this taboo during a debate class I run with my advanced students. The debate was "Smoking indoors should be banned". The negative team brought up the cultural point above and in the context of this debate, it was a very valid reason as to why smoking indoors should NOT be banned.

I have some Korean friends who, if outside, will shoulder check and look down the path we're walking to ensure there's no elderly before lighting up. I even have one hiking friend who will drag me off the hiking path several feet so that he can have a smoke break, for fear that older people might hike by.

Because of this troublesome double-checking, most of my Korean friends don't even bother to smoke outside. Inside, they're virtually chimneys.

Dunhill Dan

Smoking is Kool

Coming from a country where smoking is banned everywhere, except in the bedroom post-coitus, it's interesting to be in Korea. Here, you can't help noticing that smoking is EVERYWHERE.

And I mean everywhere.

Bars, restaurants, noraebangs (karaoke rooms)...simply everywhere. You'll find ashtrays in the craziest of places. Suspended above urinals in the washrooms or shoulder-height with toilets. Sadly, you get used to it.

Then you get addicted to it.

With smoking being so ubiquitous and culturally ensconced, after several drinks in a bar you can't help lean over and say, "Hey, can I have one?" in your best, broken Korean. Pretty soon, you're buying your own packs.

My choice: Dunhill 1mg

Dunhills are an American splendour that I've discovered here. They come in so many varieties in cool, succinct packages that don't have pictures of bleeding gums or blackened livers emblazoned on 'em. Thus, for awhile I temporarily suspended my Canadian persona of grimacing whenever I was in the presence of smoke, and took to it like Dean Martin.

However, I am now in relapse mode.

Recently, several foreigner friends and I have felt the repercussions of the white devil sticks and have unanimously decided to quit, hoping to get rid of the monkeys on our backs. I have prevailed, but other friends have fallen back to the allure of the Dunhill Devil.

Here's hoping those of you who quit, stay quit, and those of you who haven't started, stay far away from Korea.

Dunhill Dan

The Not-So Amazing Spiderman

December 31st. New Year's Eve. A time of revelry and joy 'round the world.

Mine was no different here in Busan, South Korea.

That eve, myself and 5 other friends decided to celebrate in the middle of the city at a foreigner bar. My group consisted of 4 Canadians, 1 Korean local, and a Korean/Australian hybrid named "Kami".

Kami was born here in Busan, so he is indeed Korean, but he went to live and educate himself in Adelaide, Australia. There, he lived and studied for 7 years and just came back to Korea a few months ago because of National Service duty. Here, every Korean male is required to serve in the military for two years. Kami is back under obligation as a Korean citizen to fulfill his "duty", but because of some stressed joint or whatever in one of his arms, he instead works for Busan Transportation (aka the Subway here).

He's more than happy to have avoided the traditional army service and on weekends, hanging out with me, he raises a beer bottle with his "injured" arm with tremendous ease, showing no sign of pain. When I point this out and inquire as to what exactly his injury is, he turns, smiles and says "No worries mate."

Forever relaxed, that's Kami - my best friend in Korea.

So the group of us whooped it up listening to a foreigner band and then doing the New Years countdown, minus watching Dick Clark and the apple drop, which was a bonus.

Afterwards, we needed sustenance and decided to go to a restaurant called JUNCO.

JUNCO is Disneyland, Chuck-E-Cheese and Denny's all rolled into one. The staff acts zany, skipping and waving at you with double hands if they pass your table. Hokey, harmless fun. That was, until my friend Erin pointed at our other friend, Sarah, and said "It's her birthday today."

That was said at the beginning, when we first sat down at our booth. Erin's thinking was they may bring out a free cake or something.

We got something all right.

Dinner and alcoholic drinks proceeded for awhile... when suddenly, the restaurant was plunged into darkness. Every light went off. There were murmurings at the other booths and nobody could see anything in front of them. Everyone thought it was a power failure.

My concern turned to where my cocktail was in all this darkness.

Suddenly, a booming voice over a loudspeaker was uttering many Korean words in the dark, ending with "...Happy Birthday Sarah!!" A strobe light activated and the darkness was replaced with an intermittent blinding white light to the beat of Korean hip-hop music.

While everyone was trying to regain their eyesight amongst the lighting flashes, a girl (one of the staff) appeared at the end of our table holding a wolf-man mask over her head. Her hands were at her neck to keep the thing on while she hop-danced from side-to-side, keeping in step with the beat of the music.

From behind the wolf-man-girl (it had breasts, so I deduced that it was female), out jumped Spider-man. And I mean jumped. Spider-man, within seconds leaped up, and perched himself behind my friend's Jan, Kami and Erin on top of the tiny ledge that separated the booths.

Squatting, Spider-man proceeded to flail his arms up and down, keeping in beat with the music like the wolf-man-girl. In his frenetic movements, his one hand came up and hit one of the small stereo speakers suspended above our booth, causing it to come crashing down...on Kami.

This appeared in slow-but-fast-motion, courtesy of the strobe light effect.

The speaker grazed Kami on his right temple, which had him instantly clutching his head in agony, and continued to tumble under the table, finding a new home on the floor.

Strobe-light still flashing, music still grooving and the wolf-man-girl still gyrating, Spider-man shouted "Are you okay?" to Kami, while still squatting overhead. Kami didn't answer. Spider-man said this once more, than jumped down from his perch and ran away with the wolf-man-girl in hand, leaving the scene of the crime.

The lights were turned on and everyone was dumbfounded.

Looks turned to Kami. He was semi-unconscious. His face was pulled back in a grimace, his eyes squinting and slanted more than usual. All the while, all of us were in tears of laughter because the whole scene was so surreal. From the time the lights went off and then were back on, it was all but 90 seconds. My words make it seem longer, but I kid you not... the pace was so frenzied that when the lights were back on, we were all in tears of laughter and disbelief over what had just happened.

The only clue, a remnant to what just quickly took place, was Kami still clutching his head.

In between laughter, someone finally said "Did that REALLY just happen?" Almost as if in answer, a thin, Korean male waiter showed up at our table and asked Kami, "Are you alright?"

Kami didn't answer. He was still tending to his wound.

Again, the waiter asked softly, "Are you alright?"

My friend Erin turned to the waiter and calmly asked, "Are you Spider-man?"

"Yes" he said without hesitation, which caused us to erupt in laughter again having heard him give up his secret identity so easily. Well, all but Kami, who held one arm to his head, the other searching for his drink.

Spider-man, defeated, left our table alone.

When the laughter finally subsided, Kami looked up and quietly asked "What the #%^%!# just happened?"

The laughter continued.

J. Jonah Jameson, editor of The Daily Bugle, was right. Spider-man IS a menace.

The tale ends here. I hope everyone had a great New Year's!

From your friendly,
neighbourhood
Dan-man

Dishes, Dishes, Dishes

During my first week in Busan, I would emerge from my apartment to find the hallway littered with dishes. Sitting outside of my neighbours doors would be plates, bowls and bento boxes.

I couldn't figure this out???

Was there some kind of dishwashing service in my building? That would be cool. I am without a dishwasher, so a service like this is would be worth it's weight in gold.

Or perhaps the dishes were waiting for some magical elves to come whisk them away, clean them and return them.

Either way, I wanted in on this gig.

I asked one of my Korean colleagues why my neighbours did this. It turns out that this is "take-out" Korean style. People order food and it's delivered complete with dishes and cutlery. After finishing the food, you set the dishes outside your apartment and the delivery guy comes back and picks them up.

No charge for delivery too!

So these delivery guys have to come to homes TWICE! Once to deliver the food. Then again later to pick up the dishes, including half-eaten food occupying some plate or bowl.

A big reason for this is they're super-conscious about garbage and recycling here. So no styrofoam containers, no wrappers, no plastic cutlery - everything's the real deal.

Aside from treading lightly in the hallways for fear of getting a chopstick skewered in my foot, I am enjoying this magical service.

I order the food. I eat the food. And the dishes...*poof* disappear!

Thank you Korean elves!