Midnight Runs and Nori Bongs

Hello again from the sunny side of South Korea,

Just as the northern boundary waters continue to be the focal point of tumultuous foreign relations, so our hogwan has served as a volatile point of instability over the past couple of weeks. Within three days, our foreign teacher staff underwent a firing, a “midnight run,” and three contract completions. For all of you who are out of touch with “Overseas English Teacher Lingo,” the definition of a “midnight run” is as follows: when an employee leaves the country he/she is working in with a) no intention of coming back and b) no word of warning to the employer. I do not wish to discuss any of these events simply because I feel like too much of my time on this God-given earth is already spent on discussing/pondering/complaining about these job related things. However, I felt it necessary to contextualize this post by explaining the chaos that has been our young “professional” lives.

Sadly enough, it’s difficult to think of things that are not work related. Whether we like it or not, (and to be sure, we don’t) our lives are dominated by the logistics and drama of the workplace. There’s nothing more frustrating than going home frustrated after a frustrating day at work. The ability to leave work at work is an acrobatic act of genius that we have yet to become enlightened to. But as I said before, and have already failed at doing, let’s avoid grumblings of work.

For the most part, I feel like we have settled into Busan. Sometimes, especially in the morning, I sort of even feel like a local: I go to pick up a fresh loaf of bread at the bakery conveniently located downstairs, I pick up a colorful variety of produce at the grocery store across the street, and more often than not, I give a friendly head-nod to the security guard at the entrance of our building…It’s the small hints of familiarity that appease my occasional disdain for living somewhere completely and utterly foreign.

Perhaps the biggest cultural event that we have experienced in the past couple of weeks was the “professional” basketball game that we attended this past Sunday. We had the pleasure of attending the match with our good friends Kevin and Laura. While entering the stadium, we knew that if not for the competitive level of the game, we would, at the very least, be entertained by the game’s environment. Sure enough, the game wasn’t all that, and the environment was everything.

One of the most comical aspects of the Korean basketball league is that each team is only allowed two foreign players. What this ends up meaning is that each team consists of a platoon of 5 foot something Korean guys and two, massive black men. Further affirming the obvious truth that the foreign men are the best players on the court is the rule stipulating that only one foreigner can be on the court at a time. The offence at both ends of the court can be boiled down to: give the foreigner the ball and see what happens. Surpassing the entertainment value of the game itself is the cheerleading squad, with their clavicles appropriately covered and their choreography reminiscent of Brittney Spear’s “innocent” schoolgirl era. And of course, there’s the mascot. “Teletuby on crack” is really the only way to describe the creature that all-to-gleefully frolics around the sidelines. If all of this excitement wasn’t enough, throughout the game there also was a small man in a Santa coat leading the stadium in synchronized cheers.

Another noteworthy cultural experience was when our school staff went out on the town. After hitting up a local bar we decided it would be best to showcase our singing talents at one of the many Nori Bongs in the area. Widely known to the rest of the world as karaoke bars, the element of musical excellence in these singing rooms is taken to a whole new level on the Korean peninsula. Whereas we North Americans might view karaoke as a time to mock past and contemporary pop songs, South Koreans place noticeable importance on the execution and delivery of their favorite hits. To be sure, the Koreans have a good time in the nori bongs, but they also value a well sung song. Not to be arrogant, but I dazzled the crowd with a soulful rendition of Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas.” Kat gave Kanye West’s “Gold Digger” her best shot. Unfortunately, it just wasn’t enough.

Well, that is all for now. Let’s wrap this post up with a nice holiday bow.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!

Love and Peace this holiday season.

Mitch and Kat

December Blues

Hello again from the other side of the world.
Before I begin, let us first apologize for not being more punctual with this blog entry. When we first started this blogging endeavor we had hoped that we would post something every week. A month and a half into our stay here and it seems like this goal has already fallen by the wayside. We realize so many of you eagerly await the release of these entries, so failing to provide entries is like depriving a baby of its mother’s teat…cruel, unprovoked, and just downright sad.
But in all seriousness, we appreciate your interest.

As you may have gleaned from the title of this entry, December has brought with it a wave of emotional volatility. Actually, wave might be too strong a word; a gradually drifting grey cloud is probably more accurate. In short, being away from home during the holiday season is difficult to swallow.

At a time when families are gathering and festive cheer is generously being lathered upon society, we’re in a country that doesn’t know the difference between a stocking and a Yule log. At first, being removed from the Christmas hype brings a sense of intrigued wonder…i.e. “I wonder what being away from home during the Christmas season will be like?” This is closely followed by a less intriguing sadness. After the sadness, a bizarre hope that we might be able to recreate the aura of Christmas emerges. This is now being chased by a sobering realization that no matter what we do, Christmas just won’t be the same. By now you might be wondering, “But what about the Christmas spirit? It’s not about ribbons, tags, packages, boxes or bags…Christmas doesn’t come from a store, Christmas means a little bit more…” And you’re correct. The Grinch hit it right on the head. However, I don’t think it’s the fervent, unchecked consumption and materialism that Kat and I are missing the most. It’s the little things- it’s that “little bit more” that makes the meaningful difference.

If I were to guess, and obviously I will, I would say that it’s the lack of familiarity that has been making this month so difficult to bare. Of all the seasons and holidays, I would venture to guess that Christmas is when Westerners crave the most familiarity- we go out and buy the right decorations, we spend hours making the appropriate meal, we absolutely must watch the classic movies, we need to carry out the traditions are families have always practiced… To forget or neglect such things would mean to throw off the very atmosphere that we try so desperately try to create.

And so, being in a foreign, unfamiliar place during a time when familiarity is yearned for, worked for, and even paid for, can be frustrating. When it’s hard enough to get a home-made American meal, how could one even flirt with the idea of getting a little taste of the North American Christmas experience? Certainly, the spirit of the season lives on, but how quickly it seems to go unnoticed when the little things that remind you of its presence are nowhere to be found.

So, enjoy this Christmas season. Savor the familiarity, in all its gross excess, joys, flaws, and all. One day you might miss it.

Peace and Love to all.

P.S. Soon we’re hoping to post some pictures of the Christmas crafts that Kat and I have been busy making.

Kat’s Topical Analyses: Topic no. 1 - The Ajumma

“Ajumma” is the Korean slang term for the tiny old women with black, balding perms and sharp, pushy elbows. They are generally considered to be mean little troopers. Small and hunched in stature, the Ajumma tends to find standing or walking a challenge, yet they are somehow able to block one’s attempts to pass them on the sidewalk. Though the Ajumma is usually slow-moving, she can muster up a sizable amount of energy to sprint toward the closing doors of a subway car, leaving other contenders and passers-by as casualties in their wake. The Ajumma finds the elbow to be a useful weapon when making her way through a crowd, or claiming territory on a congested bus. She thrusts her elbow without mercy, and it lands with precision in the most effective places. Because the Ajumma has most likely paid her debt to society by giving birth to children and increasing the Korean population, she is no longer restricted by societal considerations and/or demands. She takes great pleasure in staring. She will position herself closely to her subject of interest, which tends to be individuals of foreign descent, and she then partakes in a long and overt gawk session. If the subject reacts in any way, such as speaking, laughing, becoming visibly uncomfortable, or attempts to dish it back and stares at the Ajumma, the Ajumma will most likely take offense, and the full-frontal gawk turns into the ever-feared Ajumma Glare of Indignation. This glare is intentional, and usually latches itself onto an exposed collarbone or partially visible tattoo. The Ajumma follows a strict dress code, wearing a knit turtleneck and pants with elastic waist and ankle bands. Their tightly-permed curls stand proudly, impervious to the band of the visor with the exaggerated bill that hides half of the Ajumma’s fallen face. The lower half of her face is covered by a mouth-and-nose mask, made fashionable by the H1N1 epidemic last fall season. Though initially perceived as helpless, the Ajumma is able to sit on her heels for hours at a time, tirelessly preparing copious amounts of kimchi. The Ajumma can hold her liquor. She can drink with her husband, and drag his wasted body home. She can finish a line of Soju shots, outdoing even the freshest foreigner who has come to Korea for round number two of the college life. I find the Ajumma both entertaining and frightening. To me, the Ajumma has been the most fascinating cultural trend I’ve experienced so far in Korea. Please stay tuned for Kat’s Topical Analyses: Topic no. 2 – The Cute Korean Girlfriend (A Phenomena), coming soon.

Field Notes

While at a café this past weekend Kat and I could not keep from being distracted. Across the room from us was a table of four or five nicely dressed Korean women, all of whom must have been in their early thirties. The women, who were obviously very close friends, were laughing and gently drinking their milk-heavy coffee drinks...The whole thing screamed of a weekly coffee date with the “besties.” What made this seemingly normal situation unique enough to grab our attention was the odd behavior of the women. Although quite docile at first, the women’s laughter and actions became louder and more intense over time. At one point the noise was so loud that Kat and I turned around only to see the group fully engaged in a raucous game of hand-slapping. As strange as it was to see responsible looking, grown women behaving in such a way, it wasn’t incredibly shocking. The truth is, since being here in Korea, Kat and I have seen many adult aged people acting in ways that can only be described from a Western perspective as “childish.”

It’s a social phenomenon that seems to present itself frequently and in a variety of situations: an otherwise austere school director attempting to tell a juvenile yet crass joke to his employees, professional women acting more like giddy schoolgirls than mothers of families, successful businessmen stumbling drunk through the streets on a Wednesday afternoon …it doesn’t take long before you seriously start to wonder why such “immature” behavior is not only so prevalent in this culture, but so widely accepted. After wondering about this for a while, the two of us have come up with a couple of logical reasons that might help answer this conundrum.

1) Sometimes strange cultural phenomena emerge from the unusual marriage of the traditional and the modern. Since Korea finds itself square in the middle of this marriage, one could say the issue at hand finds its origins here. As we were told recently, it is very common for Korean men and women to continue living at their parents’ house until they are married. The result of this traditional mentality being enforced in a contemporary setting: a lot of twenty or thirty-something professionals living in their parents’ basements. It only takes a quick look around the staff room at lunch to see this truth reaffirmed. Each person’s lunch is still made and packed by their mother---home-made meals elaborately packed in little Tupperware containers that are of the same color scheme. Seeing as so many adults still live off of their parents, it’s not hard to see why they would behave like children….in many ways, they’re still treated like children.

2) Contemporary Korean society squelches childhood. This might be an understatement. From dawn till way beyond dusk, the average Korean kid’s day is filled to the brim with countless class lessons. Even Saturdays, (a day in the West that has long been equated with sleeping in, watching cartoons, and doing whatever a kid wants to do) are reserved for going to school and studying. After each weekend I ask my students what they did, and like the predictability of clockwork the most common response is: “nothing, I studied and now I’m tired.” I’ve actually heard that children here are more excited for the week than they are the weekend. It makes sense actually…whereas during the week the kids are with their friends at school, on the weekend, the kids are at home, by themselves, studying alone. This society’s push for success and trained excellence leaves little room (or time) for simple fun. For this reason, it is likely that many Koreans take advantage of their older years by embracing the carefree mentality and behavior of which they were once robbed.

Of course, not all Korean adults behave immaturely or childishly. We have met and enjoyed the company of many adult Koreans who act in a way that is normal for Western standards. This blog entry is merely a description of an observation; an observation that has recurred enough times to note its regularity. Regardless of what the cause is behind this socio-cultural phenomenon, it is exactly this type of puzzlement that makes living in a foreign culture the exciting, humorous, frustrating, and often enlightening experience that it is.

Another week in the land of the morning calm

Gleaning from our minimal observations so far, Korea seems to be deserving of this otherwise clichéd nickname. In the early morning, not a whole lot is happening. On our first morning here, Kat and I decided to wander down to the local coffee shop and start the day right with a strong cup of joe. Much to our dismay, the lights were turned off and the door was locked shut. The only English on the door’s sign read “open at 10:30.” For Westerners accustomed to the early morning, half-conscious mob of professionals desperately scouring the street-sides for their first cup of coffee, this seemingly nonexistent need for a legal stimulant seemed strange, and at the time, disappointing. Don’t get me wrong, Koreans love their coffee and their trendy coffee shops, but their drinking of it tends to happen much later in the day. In the same vein, the nights are longer here. Even though the workday’s hours are about the same as back home, their nights are much longer. It’s a quizzical riddle concerning the health of the modern Korean working man: 8-10 hour work days and bars that remain open until 6 a.m. And apparently, no need for an early morning coffee. Something doesn’t add up.

But I digress. Last weekend was full of activity that demands explanation. On Friday our school threw a Halloween party for the youngest students. Planning it was quite a bit of fun, especially since the Korean teachers seemed more excited about the idea than some of the students. The kids came all dressed up in whatever costume they or their parents thought was customary for Halloween. Seeing as the festivity is almost unknown here, many of the costumes consisted of items that could be hastily purchased at the local grocery store. Kat and I went as Harry Potter and Lisa Simpson- two familiar pop icons in this country. The celebration was going smoothly until the school’s director decided to have all of the students line up outside in order to experience our coveted “trick or treating” activity. At first it seemed like a decent idea; get the kids out of the building, show them how to properly partake in such an important aspect of the cultural event, waste some time, ect., ect. Such perceptions changed when we learned what was really going to happen.

It turns out that our school’s financial leaders had been keeping their collective eye on a newly opened, upscale apartment building complex in the neighborhood. Naturally, the school wanted to tap into this market as soon as possible- little did we know that it would happen during our much anticipated Halloween bash. In the end, the party turned into a marketing campaign for our private school. All of us foreign teachers were made to wear sashes that displayed the company’s name as we walked the long line of students through the neighborhood and towards the apartment complex. When we reached the gate to the complex, the security guards refused to let us in. As a result, our little caravan of decorated marketing pawns was kept out in the cold for half an hour, waiting for the unknown. Once inside, the situation didn’t get much better. While some of the children were allowed to escape the cold and get inside the warm apartment buildings, other students were left outside in the cold. What’s worse is that the children who did make it inside were given candy. The children who were left outside were eventually met by their warm, cheerful, and candy carrying classmates. Obviously, fairness and equality do not seem to be valued here as much as in North America. Actually, we’ve felt this sentiment on a number of occasions already, and it seems to emanate from our perception of Korean culture as being harsher and less sensitive than that of ours…whether this is a qualitative truth is beyond us. We understand that when experiencing the initial stages of cultural immersion, one has the tendency to start comparing the new culture with his or her own.

Besides the Halloween party going up in flames, the rest of the weekend was very enjoyable. Kat and I hit up a part of the city we hadn’t experienced before with a few friends Friday night, and on Saturday we were shown around the fish market area in Nampo-dong. My friend Mark from high school has lived in Busan for over two years now and he and his Korean girlfriend Yeojin have not only been incredibly hospitable, but more than willing to show us the sights and sounds of the city. After giving us a thorough tour of Busan’s renowned fish market, Mark and Yeojin took us out for perhaps the strangest meal I’ve ever eaten: live octopus.

As we entered the modest restaurant I could tell that it had not been frequented by many foreigners. Some of the Koreans looked at us as if we had arrived there by mistake. Some simply chuckled. We sat cross legged underneath a table that was raised about half a foot from the wooden floor. A live octopus was brought to our table and snipped into pieces by a woman using rudimentary scissors- the kind a kid might use to cut construction paper. The tentacles writhed in shock, dislocated from their fellow limbs. We indulged. If you’re inexperienced in the field of octopus eating, be sure to chomp the living ink out of it, because if you don’t, the tentacles will suction themselves to your throat as you swallow. It’s a bit disconcerting eating something that still has the capacity to wiggle its way out of your mouth. Regardless, we ate the creature successfully, along with the eel that had been mixed with it.

After the octopus and eel, we set off into the dark alleyways of the fish market area, in search of yet another unique Korean delicacy. Our reasoning: if the creatures of the sea failed to appease our hunger, maybe a respected land mammal could. The restaurant (if you want to call it that) for this next meal resembled a mechanic’s garage, and it had the smoky air of a tent containing a burning barbeque. After sitting on one of the many metal benches lining the perimeter of the room, we watched a woman chop up a long, rope-like strand of meat, and place the cylindrical pieces into a skillet in front of us. The dish: fried pig intestine and heart. To be honest, I wasn’t a big fan of the intestine. It was like eating a fried chunk of pig fat, and in actuality, that’s largely what it is. The heart had more taste to it. Overall, the night was a tasty, albeit interesting culinary experience.

More to come.

The First of Many...

Greetings family, friends, and curious web surfers,
Welcome to our blog.
As you may have known already, Katherine and I are spending this year living and teaching English in Busan, South Korea. We’ve created this blog as a means to share our experiences, observations, and revelations with those of you who wish to read along. We hope that as much as this blog will serve as a meeting place for us to stay in touch, it will also provide a cathartic way for Kat and I to personally convey what we are experiencing on the other side of the world. We also hope to continue writing this blog long after our bodies have been cleansed of the kimchi that runs through our veins…i.e. when our stay in Korea comes to a close.
But enough of prefacing, it’s time to begin…

Yesterday marked the end of our first week in Korea. It was a whirlwind of week, as any initial week will be when transitioning into a foreign culture and attempting to recover from a 16 hour, jet-lag induced, mammoth of a plane ride. When we finally awoke from our time-(dies)oriented coma, we began training at one of our hagwon’s (private academy) campuses. Kat and I were both struck by how welcome we were made to feel by the Korean staff and foreign teachers. Actually, that is perhaps one of the most notable aspects of our stay here so far: no matter what the context, we’ve enjoyed the company of every foreigner we’ve met. (Any native English speaker not from South Korea fits the “foreigner” bill. Canadians, Americans, Aussies, and Brits are the most common.) I guess this job, and its complete experience, tends to attract a certain type of personality that we find to be easily likeable. It’s difficult to deny a sense of camaraderie amongst the foreign teachers- a collective mentality resulting from our common situation.
During our first week we were invited over for breakfast by an incredibly hospitable couple from Texas. They not only treated us to some good ole southern cuisine, but they also showed us the ins and outs of the Busan subway system, which could have been daunting had we been without the guidance of seasoned veterans. Another Canadian couple (the only other foreigners at our campus) have been extremely helpful with getting to know the ropes of this gig. We definitely feel blessed to be surrounded by so many supportive and generally nice people.

This past Monday was our first day of teaching. After sitting through a week of training, Kat and I were eager to jump into action, and so far we’ve really enjoyed the job. The kids are surprisingly well behaved and the school’s environment is relatively relaxed compared to that of other hagwons. On an average day Kat and I might teach 3 to 4, 45 minute classes. Although the rest of our eight hour work day is supposed to be used for lesson preparation, the curriculum is so thoroughly mapped out for us that it doesn’t take long to beef up a skeletal outline. Kat was even able to learn how to read Korean in her extensive periods of free time. Sometimes I feel guilty spending hours reading online news articles or checking the scores from Sunday’s NFL games, but there literally is no way we could prepare more for a 45 minute class that is so curriculum focused.

The dichotomy between the foreign teachers and the Korean teachers is also sometimes awkward due to the fact that the Korean teachers have so much more to do. Simply carrying a conversation in English is a difficult task for most of the Korean teachers at our school, so preparing a lesson that deals with translating the nuances of English grammar into Korean takes a substantial amount of their time and energy. We would like to spend some of our free time helping them, but without an understanding of Korean we unfortunately have our hands tied. The result is as follows: the foreigners sheepishly watching sports highlights and reading while the Korean teachers scurry around the office preparing for their next lesson.

Besides school, we’re really enjoying living in Busan. Last weekend we were able to witness the city’s annual fireworks festival---visually stimulating to say the least. Approximately 2.5 million Koreans crammed the beachfront to watch a dazzling 50 minute firework extravaganza that was synced to epically-enhanced orchestral music. It made Ottawa’s celebration of July 1st at Parliament Hill look like the launching of a single emergency flare. Besides the fireworks it was also entertaining to watch the old Korean women muscle their way through dense human crowds. They might be short and arthritic but they sure know how to throw a mean elbow when in desperation.

And what would a note on cultural immersion be without the mentioning of food. So far Kat and I have been able to experiment with a number of traditional Korean dishes. I think our favorites range from the infamous Korean bbq to a conveniently portable and cheap dish called Kim-bop. Consisting of rice, strips of some type of meat, pickled turnip, sprouts, carrots, and egg, the kim-bop roll is held tightly together by a thin piece of dried seaweed. In other words, sushi’s California roll meets Korean pickled vegetables. Among the top strangest things we’ve digested so far is dead yet still squirming octopus tentacles, fried chicken’s feet, and chicken liver. We’ve heard murmurings of a “dog soup,” but we haven’t worked up the courage to try wet Clifford yet.

Well I think that’s sufficient for an initial post. Tomorrow our hagwon is throwing a Halloween party for the students, which promises to be interesting considering the event is nonsexist over here. If even for an hour, I’m glad the kids will have a break from their success-driven, businesslike lives and be able to experience a little slice of childhood lightheartedness.

Much love from the both of us,

"Keep a good head, and always carry a light bulb."
- Bob Dylan