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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
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.
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 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
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
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
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
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!
