powerful little collisions

a few weeks ago, under explosions in the sky of pohang and swimming rivers of makoli that fed into bukbu beach, I met a really fantastic man visiting friend here in SoKo.  Connections ensued, and for two weeks our paths collided in the skies of gimcheon and in the woods of jisan and now he is off and away in saipan.

in jisan I found more.  I ran into an EPIK guy, from orientation, whose name was less memorable than his face, and somehow through smiles and cocktail bag chats our paths converged through the maze of the festival.  

and then there were the gyeongsaners i found beneath an umbrella toasting me with buckets and enticing me under their shade to catch up, but instead of catching up, my saipan friend and i followed a diversion down to the creek where our universes crashed head-on with Hoon and Junghwa and Hong, where tequila sunrise and moleskine notebooks presented an arena for some truly epic wandering and wondering.  I saw them again this weekend, reunited by a jisan band and the bars of seoul.  seoul for the soul, this therapy in the form of conversation and poetry session in a red-boothed bar.  

and then there was the pink-haired british pin-up, who I only briefly reconnected with walking down the streets of Seoul, opposite ways, but both stopping for a shout and cheers to our shared memory

and then I revisited the morning, the sunrise service of Jisan, where i met rob and becca, both from different groups, brought together by our circle of singing and drinking koreans enjoying sunrise setting on our festival.  becca who danced and ran for drinks with me, i bumped into Saturday night in Hongdae while out with the Hoon and Junghwa, my other Jisaners.  And amazed faces said it all just then.  and then Mr. Rob, British Rob, with the smile-big-for-life face, just as familiar in Sunday afternoon revelry as he was in Monday morning revelry at Jisan, I ran into him at an Irish Pub in Itaewon.  

and then the man getting the rat tattoo while B2K were waiting or their ink, bumped into us on the street the next day, the pain still fresh in his eyes, with some local know-how to get to the yuk (station).  

these are not all of them.  not even close.  Here, I mostly have the recent, recurring ones.  The ones in this past month that have rocked me, and them, enough to make a lasting note in each of our lives.  I'll give em a whole post ^_^

Almost 49million people in this country, and yet we bounce around and run into each other like charged little molecules, gravity and whatever ions we need to exchange pulling us back into each other again and again.    I love the smallness and infinite vastness of this world.  I love that I can have a thirty minute conversation with a complete stranger and know that we will both carry it with us, impacted by our words and shared energy for as long as we need to remember it.  Even when he's off in Saipan, or she's swallowed up again in Seoul, they carry a bit of me with them.

x

On a side note, it has been ages--AGES, I get it!-- since I have last posted.  Sorry.  SoKo never stops, never sleeps, and so neither do I.  

Quick recap, then revisits, I promise: 

Shows I've been to: Major Lazer, International Breakdancing Competition, and Korean Ska Band in Seoul.  Pinnacle the International Hustler, and Funk and Soul DJ set in Busan.  Hood Internet, Teengirl Fantasy, Handsome Furs in Daegu.  Jisan Valley Rock Festival, including Belle and Sebastian, Vampire Weekend, Massive Attack, Pet Shop Boys, Muse, 3rd Eye Blind, a Korean Marley cover band, foam dance tents, a giant pool, sunrise sing-alongs, etc!!!

Festivals: Boryeong Mud Festival (craziest, muddiest party I've ever been to), Seoul International Graffiti festival, Busan Sandcastle festival, some Daegu art festival, Pohang Fireworks festival, Jisan rock festival...I feel like I'm missing some...

And I can't leave out Beijing--7 glorious days exploring past-present-future crammed into one of the most interesting cities I've ever been in.  Phew.  

School starts this week, but the fun don't stop (but playing around with the language and using poor grammar will...)

an epic dance through daegu

Saturday was my first trip outside of Gumi since getting here. Woke up early to throw in a load of laundry, run to the PCbang for wild graspings at plans and communication. Woot for facebook chat. After some scramblings, we had plans to meet at dongdaegu station at 4pm. Never having been there before, I went to the station a bit early to try it out. Made the 2:15 train. 30min ride, only 2,500won--cheaper than a taxi to homeplus. Sit next to a Korean woman, not much talking, watch the mountains roll by. Mist mist mist. Then Jack and Gi come up and surprise me. We make our way to the cafe car, find Tom on the way. Try our best to shrug off the biggest know-it-all thinks-he's-hot-shit American who wants to tell us everywhere we should go, hang out with us in our free hour, follow us to a rave that night--and lucky for us, no cell phones, so, "bummer dude, guess we'll have to split ways." Good day sir.

When we get to the station, we walk a bit into the drizzling neon that is the town, grab the usually sorry excuse for coffee in a colorful little second-story shop. Relax. Feet dry. Then back to the station for the 4pm-not-so-sharp rendezvous. After about 30min, a chat with a very strange Korean rando, and a guilt-buy gum purchase from a man in a wheelchair, we have a solid group of epik reunitees.

Oddly enough, a little over a week away has made their faces feel like home. Exciting rush of joy. HUGS. We hit the subway, then we hit the city; scattered sort of buddy system keeping us together. And here is our Korea: flashing lights, narrow streets, west-meets-east in Gumi on steroids. Here is where I'll come to buy my boots. Fo sho. We're all cravin a bit of warmth, a bite of food, and where are Blake, Sean, and Lindsay most excited about: Burger King. almighty! the last thing that I could possibly missing. But we stand outside, and I do, yes, have a salty warm fry. Watch some free huggers, reunite with more Epiks in passing. And then move on.

Downstairs Beer Bar--all the foreign bottles you want. Not for 6,000won a bottle, so Korean Max all around, Kamsamida. We're the only ones anywhere we go in this early light. They bring us first cheerio-like snacks. then it's nachos. then it's strawberry and apples. O'malley's popcorn and peanuts has nothing on the bar snacks here. Few bottles down, tally it up, move on out.

Down a few more streets, can't decide where to go. Libby and I run upstairs to check a swanky spot out. First bit of Korean snobbery: completely empty bar, and we are told "No. Koreans only." What the wha?!? Well, alright, we'll take our big ol' group of spenders to a more welcoming place covered in post-it notes next door. Another bottle, more snacks, until--finally--we find a spot for food.

Out of the rain and into a posh industrial set up, Swankified second floor. Pasta plates made for the sharing, all the salad you want. And, no joke, a bathroom with two toilets set up to stair each other in the face. You can talk about how great the food is while you're both grunting it out of you. Ha. Roly poly stuffed and warm, split up the bill--only 7.50 per person. How bout that for cheap. Then it's out into the rain, into the new night that's not-so-dark, and look for a new place to drink.

Found some ex-pats with word of a Happy Hour. They lead us through the streets, dancing and dodging Koreans the whole way there, a new track for the soundtrack in front of every store. Holy Grill. Canadian ex-pat setup. Good music. Endless drink happy hour. Jarrod, Virginia, Lindsay and I have a go at some foozball. Phoenix is playing and it feels like partying back in the states. And, who's there but that big ol guy from the train (who, with the help of Blake, we are able to avoid). Darts, dance, drinks. And then, Lindsay puts in a whisper and the lights come on and we treat Jarrod to a "Happy Birthday" from everyone in the bar. The bartenders treat our crew to free shots. Nice.
Then, Happy Hour ends. A hug bell is rung, and it's free shots for everyone still in the bar. Pass 'em on back. Nicer.

Back to the rain. Work our way past all the shops with winking models and oh man will I be returning soon to do some shopping. We end up at the Monkey Bar (I think) Pay a cover, get a locker, and make our way in. Now we dance. Dark and smokey with no waegooks in sight, we create a circle of foreign dancers right by the bar. Shake our hair, beat it on down, and show this country how we do it back home. oddly enough, all the music we hear are the familiar American remixes with a dj singing along with his favorite lines. Ha. But it was great. Sweating through neon lazers, we danced off that dinner and then some.

After they (not me, no sir) had enough dancing, we make our way out to a place for billy bowling (pool-billiards combo). Sip on a few more drinks, and let the last vestiges of the night trickle by us until it's 4 or so and we make our way back to find a way home. We say goodbye to most everyone at the trainstation. Hug hug hug.

Jack, Gi, Tom and I get ourselves a ticket on the next train to Gumi. We have an hour at least to wait. So we look for food. Of course, everywhere by the station is closed. Walk towards some lights under the bridge, and we find a little korean dive. Soju. Rice. meat (not for me). kimchi. radish. garlic. Yummmm... Surprisingly my chopstick-fingers were highly adept even in these fuzzy morning hours. We thank her, pay, and make our way back to the train station, waving goodbye to the last few lights of Daegu, and up the stairs to the platform. There is a small group of Koreans--ending their night I presume. Strangely we all look very alive. On fire with it, I guess.

On the train there is Tekken and internet and two other westerners we share the car with. Our spirits are high--in many many ways. It was an epic night, well worth it all. As we roll into Gumi, we wish Tom well until the next stop, and Jack, Gi, and I make our way (luckily) down the same street, branching off at our respective alleys.

It's a little after 6:30 by the time the benadryl hits in. I sleep for the whole day. And come Sunday night, I am rejuvinated in so many ways. Daegu was excellent.

Familiar like home, and yet...

Night three in Gumi as successful as the first two. It's quite easy to run into people at the bars here--just like back in Manhattan. The last few days have been comfortably fun shifts between chaos and nothing with enough walking around to give me shin splints and soggy shoes. Lovin it.

Woody, my American team-teacher and guide to the world that is Gumi--has been taking me around with his Korean fiance, Boram. English-meets-Korean, midwest-meet-far east. Best of both worlds there. I helped them move from across the hall of my apartment to a much swankier setup a half block away. They have a sweet pad and roof access where we take breaks and have a great view of the town and mountain. Fully excited for future BBQs and sunbathing. Plans for a kiddie pool are already in the works.

The blessings of Boram are already unlistable. Besides her insight to Korean culture and patient translation, she acts as an interpreter. Already she helped me order a meatless menu at this wonderful pizza place. We sat on pillows in a room where soup, bread, pickles, salad, pizza, coffee and cheesecake were brought to us by impeccable service (which I'm still adjusting to not tipping for) that only cost around $12. She also has a car, which is invaluable here for taking me beyond downtown.
She and Woody took me to Lotte Mart- a massive 5-story Targetish buy-anything-you-could-imagine sort of place. After navigating our way through crowds of Koreans, whose cart traffic is as chaotic a system as their roadways, she drove me back to my place where I made my first peanut butter and jelly since leaving the states. Good lord did I miss my Skippy.

Woody's southern midwest nature fits right nice with me--and the friends they've shared with me seem fully ready and willing for anything I could offer. There's such a mix of personalities here, yet we all share one thing in common: we are open, honest, and 100% genuine from the get-go. No wasting time with drama or masks. Travelers, I have always believed, step outside of the pettiness that exists in the stagnant life; Korea is proving this to be truer than I could have imagined.

I've gone out and run into several other people from my EPIK class. The past two nights several of the guys met up at Waegu (foreigner) bars. Corona seems to be the place for me, right across the train station, a few blocks walk. There is a good mix of Koreans and foreigners, so I don't feel completely cut off from the culture there, and the owners are incredibly welcoming and excited to see us. And there is whiskey. Ah, what a break from Soju, even if it is a bit more expensive. Warms my soul. And decent music, and a bit of dance party seems to find its what in each night. I even managed a bit of Hula hooping last night. Made me miss my sistas back in Manhappening. But no longer O'Malley's Alley, Gumi is the place to be.

Saturday night I got my first real look at the intensity of Korean honor codes. Jack, a guy from Wales who was in my group, met me and we made friends with several English dudes who had been in town a lot longer. First Corona, then over to Mai Tai where we drank coctails from buckets, then back to Corona where we melded into a larger group of Western revelers. A Korean man named Kevin had gotten himself good and sloshed and was chummin up with the group of us. PLayed a bit of Jenga (oh that really reminded me of home) and watched as Kevin's wife waited, dozed, and waited. Sometimes she would join us a bit, but it was clear she was much more aware and ready to leave. Well, sadly Mister Kevin was not, took a swing at her (thank god he missed) and the Korean DJ (who I hear is typically mild mannered) took after Kevin. Fists-a-flew. And, being in the Western bar, western minds stepped in, and there were Jack and some very big English arms trying to hold the two back. They tood it outside, we tried to get Kevin to leave, and all he kept spouting was that he was going to kill him. Kill him. The DJ, bent on his own rules of honor, wanted to kill Kevin (who in everyone's eyes, deserved it). I am told he is known for beating his wife, which is appalling since she is there taking care of him, waiting on him, feeling shame like no one could believe and still being the supporting wife. It did not sit right with any of us. And there was Kevin, his mouth all bloody, trying to tell me that the DJ shamed HIM and would die for it.

Soju brings out the best and worst of men; travel all the way around the world and it's the same. If not for the foreign interference, I have no doubt those two would have battled it out to the end. It's an odd tension I'm trying to get my mind around, this country--and my province in particular--where there is no crime towards others, you can safely walk the streets alone, and yet, if someone feels their honor has been taken, they will turn with an intensity to reclaim it. It's not the same as bar fights back home where people drunkenly brawl out for no reason at all; there is a charge that drives them here, and will probably cause it to end in extremes. But, luckily for the group mentality here, no one outside is included. It is a contained sort of violence.

Aside from that one insident, which was in a sick way, quite thrilling (especially for Jack, who said he'd never been part of a proper fight in his life), peace abounds. In this city that is bustling, people seem to be laughing, enjoying themselves, weaving in and out of each other with no problem at all. The mist clings to the mountains, the temple peaks out of all the bustle of everyday life, and the neon and hello kitty bring cartoonish fun to everything. Easy to slip into, easy to become a part of. And ridiculously easy to move into the close-knit community of foreigners living within it all.

I start teaching tomorrow. Big day. I'm excited to meet my kids and work with Woody and my Korean coworkers. I know I can handle Gumi; I hope it is ready for me.

Finally Off the Boat

So I spent the last ten days in an amazing padded room of cultural squishiness--plenty of english with a sprinkle of korean. Schedule, food, comfort. Easy peasy. And apparently a few didn't even make it past the orientation before freaking out. They haven't come close to culture shock. But the past week where EPIK eased us into this place has been amazing. So many different, like-minded adventures, converging in one point. And then, in less than a day, they spat us out all over South Korea (puked is more like it, after all the soju). Talk about epic.
Well, as our quickly established bonds are being tested and stretched, we rush to make every possible connection(thank you facebook) and lock down everyone's location for future floors to crash (and how warm and cozy they are here).

Even though I don't allow myself disappointment, I was, I admit, giving into some doubts about this city in the middle of the mountains (goodbye, hopes of coast) that was only being described to me as "oh, there are many factories" (goodbye, hopes of nature).
We said our goodbyes, crammed onto a crunchy bus ride until we all met again at a rest stop. We said more epic goodbyes and headed for Gumi (the city I was destined for). We drove through the city that was looming dirtier and busier than ever, then suddenly cut over a dam to a lake in the mountains, little swan boats smiling at me. Bam. I was relieved that this, at least would be outside the city from me.
We eat our last bit of bibimbap in a traditional little mountain restaurant (that for some reason has a giant Kint Tut on the outside of it; still not getting the significance) and then, goodbyes again, load back onto the buses. Drive about 10feet and stop in a parking lot full of very scared looking Koreans waiting for us, names on signs (some, like mine, spelled wrong, some even upside down). Now we have arrived.

As if to reinforce our week's lesson, (Korea is dynamic) it is chaos. Where is the truck with our luggage, where is our coteacher, where are we going? My coteacher, June, a short spunky Korean woman was standing with Hank, another Korean teacher, much taller, under an umbrella. They met me, pointed across the parking lot (mountains, trees, lake, still in view) and said, "there is your school." Hot damn I about hugged her till her eyes burst, but remembering all lessons of social customs, bowed slightly, gave my best kamsahamida (still not sure about the romanization) and went about the business of getting my luggage.
Well, also remembering all of the emphasis on the importantance of first impressions in our training, I was mortified when they drove me over, freshly crumpled from the bus ride and an epic night of soju, to meet the Vice Principal. It went alright, I guess. hope. I met the rest of the English department, including Cara (the girl I'm replacing) and Woody (my savior and guide).
These first few introductions have me more excited by the minute. The highschool I was dreading is apparently the best possible placement. I am teaching with Woody, an American who's been there a year already. It's a foreign language high school (described here as geniuses), and it is very relaxed (in dress code, too, woot woot!) I went to a traditional Korean meal with June, Maryanne and Woody in a shack on the floor. We laugh easy.
I'm in a small, cozy-with-character apartment. It is loaded with stuff leftover from Cara and teachers-past (including 4 hair driers; no idea what I'm supposed to do with those). There is a close-knit Waego (foreigner) presence I have already been introduced to.
Last night we made it to the Waego bar. I played the hammer game (going around driving nails in with the wrong side of the hammer) and came out on top--shots shots shots for South Korea. It's going to be good.

jeonju routine

Things that are certain here at Jeonju: Hallways are not heated, so stepping out of my room is just as cold as stepping outside. Toilet paper is on a roll outside the stalls. Kimchi and rice are a given with every meal. Coffee is instant. There is no cheese. Snacks are odd, but handed out by instructors at least twice a day. Bottled water for drinking. The lines for the elevators are ridiculous--so I stairs it 8 flights 8-10 times a day. My gluts are lookin good.

"korea is dynamic"

We've been at Jeonju almost 5 days now. What have I learned more than anything? The same lesson I realize I was being taught from the beginning of applying for this position: Korea is Dynamic. They love saying it. Also, Every situation is different(ESID for short). Hear, hear. It's all about going with the flow. We're never exactly sure what's going to happen, or even, if we're doing things right. Easiest thing to do? Follow. Enjoy.

Not knowing where or who we're going to be teaching means no point wasting time thinking past this week--except that all of us teachers-to-be have a week of not knowing and getting to know each other. Maybe just a moment. Ice broken. We (most of us, at least) have no phone, no way of knowing who will be in your group, how they will divide you and it changes so frequently that the only thing really sure is that you can talk to the person right next to you. Instant potential travel buddies down the line. Remember the face, look at the name tag if you can, otherwise, just talk. Connect. Go with it.

Classes everyday (even saturday) are hit or miss, but I'm finally getting excited about teaching. Finally getting an idea about what that means, even. They're all about their lesson plans, and even more about being able to adapt when something throws your plans out the window for you. It's not that they're trying to make it hard for you, we're told, just that the system isn't designed to be smooth. Just adaptable. And it all makes sense to everyone here, so if we get fussy about it we just look like idiots overreacting over nothing. So this is EPIK's role. Prepare us to understand Korean culture and how our job will work within it. We're being conditioned to not worry too much, be prepared for whatever, and go with the flow.

Understanding this helps me understand Confucianism so much better here. Submitting to strict roles and social hierarchies ensure that everyone is taking care of what they need to, so that in the end, everything runs smoothly (even though it doesn't seem to). Keep a steady balance, follow when you're supposed to, be proactive when you're supposed to. Most of all, be respectful and content in it. It's not my job to know where I'm going--it's the Provincial Office of Employment. It's my job to be learning and absorbing right now.

The idea of collectivism did not excite me; no sir, individuality the way to be. But really, the collective values of South Korean's Confucian structure resonate quite nicely with my notions of nonviolence and the importance of community. It's not about zapping away your personality or your sense of self--it's about putting that sense of self into a selfless spot (or my way of rationalizing). I know my role enough to know how I can affect others--not just immediately, but in all their connections as well. And because I am aware of that power within myself, it is my responsibility to make sure I don't spread anything negative. It's conflating the individual and the community; recognizing that they can never be separate in cause or effects. At least, this is what I've been chewing on.
Respecting these roles of authority--age, or my employer, etc, will make it run smoother for everyone involved. And if I allow myself to be a part of it, I know the chain of respect goes both ways. I will be looked out for. Selfishly Selfless. right?

More philosophical ranting than I intended. But on the flip side of the world, it's bound to happen. All this idea and experience and story and moment sharing is overloading me. So on to the soju, where we can loosen up and really get deep! It's where I see it the most, actually, even though it's mostly a bunch of us foreigners taking over a place the way we do best. But it's about the communal enjoyment--we've already adapted. They don't split the tab here. And they want everyone involved. Whether it's just us westerners or with help from Koreans who join in our fun, we're figuring it out. We watch, we follow, we do what makes us all feel good. together.

kimchi and macaroni salad: first tastes of south korea

So after too many hours of moving standing sitting waiting, here I am in South Korea.  Jeonju University, which is not in Seoul, as I thought, but in Jeonju.  Of course.  I seem to forget that the obvious could be true here, since so much is uncertain.  I am not the only EPIK teacher who doesn’t know my destination.  Turns out, of the 340 of us in this intake, a good chunk of us only know our province.  The big metropolitan cities are their own province, and everyone destined for Busan and Daegu are stoked.  I call Gyeongbuk our mystery province.  We have no clue—that’s one big blob on the map we could be scattered through.  Keepin my fingers crossed for the coast.  It’s funny how much of our interactions—we English speaking strangers—keep coming back to the anticipation of where we’re going.  Who cares about where we’ve been?  Even stranger is where we are now—this odd cultural limbo.  Unmistakably in Korea, but not completely out of the West.   

Processing all of this comes most obviously through food these first days.  At the airport I was overwhelmed at mini marts where plastic wrapped sushi and mystery sandwiches were right next to the obvious hard-boiled eggs and bananas.  Then there’s freeze-dried squid and sardines with little cartoons of the live versions glaring at you a bit.  I wouldn’t be happy to be sliced up and laid flat in plastic with all my innards showing for the perusing snacker either, I guess.  But also are completely unrecognizable items likes these little squishy pink or white balls (I later find out are rice filled with a bean curd paste, dessert).  And yet, even in a slightly altered form, there they are: starbucks, pepsi, kellogg.  Keeping to my principles, I avoid them, opting for a coffee from a small café and a small Korean version of Crustables with strawberry jelly and cream? in the middle.  Alright snack.  And at the truck stop I learn everything here is sweetened, even the garlic chips I bought—and later even the spaghetti we are served.  And definitely the coffee.

Coffee here is the worst adjustment all of us are complaining about—presweetened powder or cold in a can.  Instant.  No black gold here.

We get three buffets a day.  Guaranteed rice and kimchi (LOVE the tang of it), watery soups—broccoli, soy, etc.  Haven’t figured all the options yet.  Then some sort of curry style mix of veggies, and one with meat.  And, assuming to accommodate us and ease our stomachs into this mix, are macaroni salad (can’t lie was my fav), corn flakes, spaghetti.  Lots of fish, lots of ham, some green veggies, very little dairy. 

Last night we feasted.  It was AWESOME.  EPIK even made a cake and we sang for all the birthdays this week.  The spread was tables and tables long, and luckily they still gave us forks.  Rice, kimchi, stir-fry, gobs of things in so many colors (I hope to figure out), and tons and tons of seafood.  Beautiful.  And the most colorful dessert table ever: tiramisu meets cream puff tacos and cakes and spikey little lychee fruit.   And then in the middle chefs were fresh-frying crab, squid, veggies, soups.  It didn’t seem to end.  And it hasn’t really, because I am still full this morning, getting ready to begin our training.   

 

 

 Perhaps that meal was our first real step onto Korea, Korea’s first real step into us.  I’m looking forward to being more adventurous and trading in my fork for chopsticks (not as scary since they still use a spoon).