Dog House W/ Patio

An Ode to Lucifer

I decided to play a mini-version of Mad Libs in one of my English classes the other day. I set it up for the students as follows:

Yesterday, I went to _______. I saw ______. I ate ______ and drank ______. It was ______!

I would then go around the room and ask each one to fill in the blanks. Time after time they would copy one another or keep it relatively mundane. An example:

Yesterday, I went to the zoo. I saw monkeys. I ate pizza and drank water. It was fun!

I was therefore surprised when one student delivered:

Yesterday, I went to Hell. I saw the Devil. I ate people and drank blood. It was great!

I gave him a sticker for pure originality.

ps- Stickers are form of currency at the hagwon. For every 10 stickers they get one 'dollar' which is then traded in for candy or school supplies when we hold a Market Day (which happens about every two months).

Just when you thought it was safe to eat your gimchi...

“Jo-Yong!” I commanded the child still chirping away after two previous attempts of asking him to be quiet in Korean. There was still no effect on him. If this wasn't a common occurrence in my classrooms I would have been insulted. I had gotten over that by now and decided on a more direct route.

I slyly walked over toward him (he was still talking to his friend and not paying attention to me) as I asked the students to repeat after me, “What's your favorite color?” As the chorus of muddled voices sang back at different intervals I slammed my book down on his desk. All the students stopped and stared, a look of dread and confusion came over their faces and I was left in a very awkward moment.

What had I done? I've used this method before to get their attention and they usually laughed and we continued our lesson. I've actually found that some students enjoy the attention and know what will be coming, so they carry on like a running gag that hasn't realized its outlived its humor. So why were my students mumbling to one another in hushed Hangul?

It was somewhere between the echo dying from the slam of my book and the first above-whisper comment that I heard it: a slow droning siren. I looked at my students who looked back at me, and then realized that this sound wasn't too unlike that of the tornado warning system back in Champaign-Urbana. The first Tuesday of every month a siren would sound off for about five to ten minutes to test that the system still worked. It also began its slow Doppler rotation whenever a tornado watch or warning would arise. Is that what this was about? A storm was a-brewin'?

I knew that Ulsan was prone to be hit by typhoons by this time and imagined that this might be the explanation. I ventured my guess to my students. They seemed to be more interested in my impromptu performance of what a typhoon would look like if a crazed westerner with a red beard could create such a storm than answering me. Yet another communication breakdown…

Finally one child understood what I meant by flailing my arms around and making whooshing noises and promptly informed me that this wasn't the reason. She then made the international sign for September the 11th. That is to say, while holding one hand up vertically and the other horizontally she recreated the events of 9/11 in slow motion by careening her horizontal hand into the vertical hand and making an explosion noise topped off the performance by making the vertical hand into a fist, consuming the horizontal hand.

Got that? Well, if you're an American traveling with few working words of the native tongue you see this often, usually followed by an awkward political discussion. It can be very difficult trying to explain your stance on the American Electoral College when you can barely buy laundry detergent or garbage bags at the corner store.

I paused for a moment trying to understand what 9/11 had to do with a tornado siren. I was at a loss. I opened a window and saw to my disbelief that pedestrians were filing into the nearest store, cars were stopping in the middle of the road while the drivers walked into the stairwell of a nearby building, and policemen were rounding up anyone who wasn't taking the same actions . I still had no idea what was going on but it was starting to become clearer once I heard the jet fighters scream overhead.

I watched as the two planes flew around the city in tight circles. Perhaps feeling the need to turn this distraction of class into a learning opportunity I informed the nearest student to me that they were F-16s. He looked at me in disbelief (whether it was out of him questioning my ability to name a jet or out of the fact that I was hanging out a window while the rest of the populace was obviously running for cover I wasn't sure- I went with the former). I then pointed to the fact that there was only one tail fin, unlike the two found on the F-18.

He continued to look at me in disbelief. I guess I picked the wrong motivation…

Then as a Chinook helicopter flew into sight on the other side of the apartment buildings across town, I figured it was time to close the window and see if I couldn't get down to the bottom of this. I turned from the windows and din to find my class no longer a ball of nervousness like it was when the siren first began wailing but quietly chatting like nothing was happening. I was confused at this point and decided to press the subject.

One of the Korean teachers walked by at that moment and I flagged her in. She explained that this was a warning system for terrorist threats and that everyone was supposed to clear the streets. I asked if they do this on a schedule so everyone knows that its just a drill, remembering fond moments of classroom disruptions back on that lovely first Tuesday of every month in college. I was surprised to learn that this was not the case for the terrorist drills.

“But how do you know if its not a drill, then?”

“If it wasn't a test then we would have heard it by now, so there's nothing to worry about!” she giggled as she started walking out of the class.

“But…” I stammered after her, knowing that less than a minute had passed since I first heard the alarm and there were still people haughtily making their way to cover.

I turned to my class as the door closed behind her and asked, "Am I the only one who read 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf?' "

Damn, another communication breakdown...

A Weekend to Remember

This past weekend I had the opportunity to take my first motorcycle trip ever. The weekend had been extended to Monday due to Korean Independence Day. The cast included Dave Ayers, Heather, Tamsyn and myself. My scooter would not have made the trip, so we instead procured a 250cc cycle from the Ulsan Motorbike Shop. Tamsyn had her 250cc cycle, Heather her 125cc scooter, and Dave and I doubled up on the borrowed bike (yes, we didn't have to pay for it- hence, not 'rental bike').

We began our journey with a few bumps but got out of town at a decent hour and headed southwest for Jinhae where the ferryboat awaited us to shuttle our faithful steeds to Goje Island. Since my motorcycling experience consisted of watching the shiny 'big boy bikes' on the highway I had the privilege of riding 'bitch,' as it were, the entire trip. I say privilege because this allowed me to take pictures and video while we were driving. I managed to get some great footage that I plan on piecing together once I figure out how to operate my editing program. The drive was uneventful but hot and sunny. We all sustained a fair amount of sun and fatigue but made it to the ferry terminal and headed across the bay to Goje.

Upon arriving it was clear that this island was far from what we were used to. Ulsan is a booming city filled with cars, pollution, apartment skylines, and noise. Goje was green, the roads empty, the sky clear, and only the sounds of insects in the surrounding forests. The air had a welcome coolness and the roads a welcome one-lane heaven for bikes. We found our first camping site with a relative amount of ease thanks to the help of one of the many amazingly helpful Koreans we had met along the journey that day alone. We felt like we were on vacation, not hanging out in the town we lived in- a very important distinction for all parties.

That first night was the highlight of the trip by far. We managed to find one of the few sand beaches (most beaches were pebble-not conducive for sleeping on) and promptly set up the tents and relaxed, worn from our day on the road. The town (barely more than a street with 20 structures) had a true community feeling. The shop owner was all smiles and information for his out-of-town guests. There was impromptu Karaoke outside on the wharf that was mostly traditional Korean songs denouncing the Japanese. It was fantastic to see such soul from the ajummas as they sang away with deep, throttled voices. After we pulled ourselves away to our campsite we beheld a shocking natural phenomenon.

We were just about to crash for the evening when we noticed that the waves that were settling into the shore were tinged neon blue. Instinctively I looked around trying to find the source of the reflection but was unable to find one. The moonlight was the only thing illuminating the cove. We went in for closer inspection and found ourselves being awe-struck by a horde of jellyfish that were slowly advancing on the beach with each wave. Wherever the water was disturbed a blue neon shock was emitted and slowly dissipated as if the blue light was being absorbed back into the lapping waves. The wet sand left behind from the retreating waves sent out a shockwave of blue wherever we stepped. Upon researching the circumstances once we got back we determined that it was not the jellyfish giving off the light but bio-phosphorescence caused by algae that occurred when conditions are just right. We happened upon textbook-perfect conditions for this event and bore witness to the best fireworks I've ever seen.

The next day we drove around the island and made our way to the Historic Goje POW Camp. The camp had been used during the Korean Conflict and housed over 173,000 North Korean POWs. The camp has an interesting history and story to tell, as there were over 3000-recorded deaths during its operation. Unfortunately, as we pulled up to the gates of the Camp it was clear that somewhere during the planning of this historic site someone got their signals crossed. Imagine that you were at Six Flags and there was an area called POW Land. It seriously felt like you could easily place Astroturf and a few holes in the ground for a Putt-Putt course. There was a serious lack of respect for the soldiers who were interned there. The signs were in broken English and told stories of how lovely it was to be a North Korean POW as compared to being a soldier for the ROK (the South Korean Army). All in all, it reeked of propaganda for South Korean pride and was slightly sickening. There were dioramas depicting the life of the POWs that were often comical looking and some amazingly disrespectful picture taking opportunities for tourists (and yes, we upheld this norm- we had to purely because if we didn't laugh, we would've cried). But I believe the true kicker was that at the actual memorial statue for the POWs there wasn't a soul there save four wayguks who needed a break from the spectacle that had rattled us so much. I figure that somewhere I missed the details that explained why they chose this motif as compared to every other war memorial I've ever been to, but I cannot imagine agreeing with those reasons.

In an effort to find another sand beach for the evening and to get as far away from the Historic Camp we hightailed it to the very southern most point of the island and randomly met up with another group of wayguks, one of which was a girl we knew from Ulsan. We had another enjoyable night, even sans nature's pyrotechnics.

On Monday we spent most of the day driving back to Ulsan at a slow pace. Despite a relaxed attitude about the days drive we made better time then we did on our way down. This was an amazing feat as it was Korean Independence Day. I later found out from my students that the role of the holiday is not to celebrate but to commemorate (thus explaining why no one was on the roads- they were honoring their forefathers, a great revelation to have after visiting the Goje POW Camp).

I had many hours to think about everything and nothing at all as we drove, but a few themes persistently returned to my head. I had developed a newfound respect for the culture from the ajummas singing on the beach. I was amazed by the natural beauty of the island and of the Korean mountains that I rarely have a chance to see in Ulsan. The strange parallels to western life and Korean life seemed to becoming more apparent to me. The culture-shock aspects still unnerve me, but that's a good thing. There are some things in every culture (even my own) that I do agree with. I have to come to terms with knowing that and reveling in what I take to be sacred, even if someone else doesn't.

Here are some pictures for you all. Be sure to click on them to get a full view.

This is one of the jellyfish that beached itself the night before. We nicknamed our first camping site "Jellyfish Cove" in their honor.

One of the great sunsets on Goje Island.

To enter the POW Camp you had to take an escalator through a tank. Still not sure why...

Here's one of the guard towers throughout the park (er... historic site). Most of them had mannequins with rifles staring down at you.

Another random military mannequin. This one dangled over the walkway. Once again, I'm at a loss.

This is one of the propaganda signs that showed what great benefits the POWs had. This is one of many. Others included POWs putting on plays, washing clothes, and taking Korean lessons.

One of the dioramas. I would think this was showing the hardships of POW life if they didn't seem so comical the way they're put together. Note the guy in the back, taking care of business. Everyone would laugh at the dioramas as they passed.

Here's a common site: people taking pictures with the mannequins and acting like they were POWs, too. But it gets better...

Here's me following suit of the other patrons and standing in front of a tank picture/action-statue. As you can tell, I'm a bit confused at this point.

Here's one of the most offensive things I've ever seen (and, I'm ashamed to say, participated in). This was one of the most popular attractions. I'm still amazed that it exists, but by the time you get to it you are no longer surprised. Rather, we had the attitude, "Of course." Whoever designed this park should issue a formal apology.

Here's a sunset shot Tamsyn took from the beach. The colors were amazing.

Here's a collage of 6 pictures I took on our bike tour on the southern end of the island. It was an amazing sight, as you can see.

Just a Moment

Sorry its been a while since the last post. I had a great weekend and I have the pictures to prove it. Once I get it all together it will be here, I promise.

I'm working on getting a glossary together that you can access at anytime as well as leaving my contact information to be readily available.

Thank you for your patience!

A brief story for your amusement

The following is a short story based on actual events. No animals were harmed in the writing of this story.

------------------------------

My day started like any other here in Ulsan. I woke up later than I'd like to admit and was barely able to clean myself up and get out of my apartment so I could make the quick ten-minute walk to work. After having been in South Korea for over a month now I was used to the abrupt change from my now Americanized apartment to the streets of my neighborhood, Mugeo-dong. It usually came in the form of a squint, a sniff, and then a recalibration of my bearings. I was getting used to the stares of the Korean people who were not accustomed to my wayguk-presence strolling down the streets. I was getting used to the growing number of people who would stop and attempt communication with me in an effort to practice their English and/ or establish a new friendship between the cultures.

This interaction normally looks like the shy beginnings of a romance. The Korean in question will hesitantly approach me like they were offering a strange dog a treat, still unsure of its disposition. If I were to return with a smile, a nod, or any other recognition short of grunting they will either begin speaking in broken English or smile and nod back. This is usually the extent of the interaction as we are both going in opposite directions. These fleeting moments tend to build up over the course of a few days and then deteriorate to simple nods as we pass much like the first time you see an ex on a busy street, apprehensive of where your relationship stands at the current time.

These norms were thrown out the window on that mid-July day. I made my way around the corner now on autopilot to work. I gave the customary nods to my new “friends of the week” and continued on by myself. And then it happened:

“Hello!” someone shouted.

I turned… no one was there. I stopped dead in my tracks, afraid that I had perhaps passed one of my friends without noticing them. Not wanting to cause any discord in my neighborhood I stood in the middle of the street turning around slowly then more rapidly, searching for the friend I missed. No one was around. No one is in the doorways of buildings, the windows were empty, the streets bare.

I suddenly felt like I was being watched, not just stared at out of curiosity, but as if I were being observed. I wanted to find the source of this sudden English intrusion. There was still no one in sight. I thought I heard a giggle but there was no way of pinpointing its location. Slightly pink, I slowly walked away from the scene dumbfounded and perturbed.

By the next day I had forgotten about my experience in the street and once again made my way out of the English Sanctuary and down the road.

“Hello! Who are you?”

Stunned, I wheeled around to yet another soulless sight.

Giggle.

And the wayguk marched on, this time more amused than unsettled knowing now that this had to be a child. No Korean adult would attempt something as attention seeking as this. But it was the giggle that gave it away: a short high-pitched giggle that could have easily been issued by a young boy or girl. The hunt was on.

I started noticing over the past weeks before this that there were a number of my students who lived in the same neighborhood as me. This made me very anxious to watch the students' reactions as they saw me for the first time that day, hoping that one would slip up and emit that same giggle upon seeing me in class as opposed to on the street from their hiding place. Nothing. No one reacted differently. No one seemed to whisper in their neighbor's ear and then glance up at Ryan Teacher and smirk. Not a damn clue.

After the fourth day in a row of random English shouts from what I could only think was a child hiding behind a car I was getting desperate. Ideas of how this kid was pulling this off stirred my imagination. A walkie-talkie. It had to be a walkie-talkie. No, no, no… It was two kids, hiding in different places! Then I realized that if I added one more, it was officially a conspiracy. I dropped my 'tag-team' theory immediately. Luckily I had not lost any sleep over this… yet.

It was Friday afternoon and I was walking down the usual route. I had thought of taking a different route to sidestep the situation but realized that this game was helping me break the monotony of my past few weeks and stayed the course. I was approaching the scene where I had been shot down four days in a row, where I was out-gunned in my native tongue by a child, where I stood slack-jawed and spinning for minutes on end. My eyes were searching every window, doorway, car, and manhole cover.

I got within three steps of my recurrent assassination site and then I heard it. Behind me, upper level, dead center: a window shade being pulled open.

My heart beat faster, time slowed, and I found myself doing a sudden about-face and without realizing what I was doing or saying blurted, with double finger-guns pointing towards the child's silhouette in the window:

“HELLO!”

After a split second of shock, the shape collapsed from view of the window and then we shared a maddening giggle as I turned again and continued on my way to work never to know the identity of my English sniper.

Back from Vacation

I finally got everything up and running, including myself, so I apologize for the lack of posts for the past few weeks.

I had all of last week off due to summer vacation but will be returning to my hag-won on Monday. I spent the last week seeing the sights around Ulsan since I did not have enough time to plan anything for my vacation. Nonetheless, I had a great time showing Dave Ulsan and hanging around with some folks who are on their way out. The negative to this is that I have completely inverted my sleep schedule for the past week. In a very depressing sort of way it reminds me of my time recovering from my back surgery as I've been up all night and reading Harry Potter.

The good news is that I have officially been in South Korea for over two months now. I have been able to adapt well to my surroundings and have found a very solid group of people to befriend. I hope that with this foundation the next ten months will be full of fun memories and good times.

I had a great opportunity to head down to Ilsan beach with Dave again where we commenced playing carnie games and drinking with Tamsyn, Heather, and random other wayguks who showed up throughout the night. We had a great conversation with a Korean guy outside a 24 hour mart where we decided to set up camp for a few hours. It still amazes me how much information you can pass on with less than ten words of common language and non-verbal communication.

Next weekend I am planning on heading down to Busan where I will meet up with Dave and head over to an island south of Busan that was used as a POW camp during the Korean Conflict. Should be a very interesting visit.