So, after having taken a self-imposed hiatus from as many school dinners as possible (and there have been many!), I finally had some spare time (and patience, ha!) to attend another full-out gathering..
Overall, I would say that it was infinitely milder (thank goodness) than the very first one, though not without remnants of the past. Although, I can't say that this "normalcy" (if that's what you want to call it) wasn't due in large part to the fact that I was smart enough to have left early this time around, as it certainly had the potential to become weird, fast.
So a quick run-down from my short stay:
-Much to my horror, the men have improved their English dramatically?! Of course they can't discuss the origin of water on the moon (Who can??), but they are more than capable of verbalizing their feelings and opinions, which is generally NOT a good thing for me. Yikes!
-The respective music and computer teachers still insisted on doing shots with me, despite the fact that I had been intentionally nursing a sprite since my arrival. (It's REALLY hard to turn down a genuinely nice, smiling, old Korean man--who's not trying to coerce you into a date, I might add--since they are such a rare breed. Plus, when the music teacher discovered that I would be attending the school's orchestra concert that he was conducting a few months ago, he handed ME flowers after the performance! An amazing gesture, n'est pas? So I happily obliged.)
-Teeny, tiny, bald, important man immediately sat on my left, after observing Mr. S come sit on my right, says, "He likes you, and I like you." He also repeatedly said, "He is bad boy, I am good boy. I am small boy." (This man is all of 5 feet, with special slippers on, maybe.) Exasperated and uncomfortable, I finally said, "I know," and shook my head, but this time Mr. S was able to ask, between shots of soju, "Why do you think that?" (Ahhhhhhhh! Why are you now able to say things in my language that I can actually understand??) While I wanted to retort, "because your propensity to engage in extra-curricular activities is obvious, sir," I instead settled for a nervous laugh and "it's just a joke."
-Just when I was preparing to make my smooth criminal exit, who but Mr. Closeted Cassanova and Mrs. C rush over to my table, with the former requesting that we take a shot together, and the latter pouting and telling me how disappointed she was with my leaving, given that she'd just arrived mere minutes ago (You don't say?? Why, that is precisely when I realized that it was time for me to make my exit!) and quizzing me over whether or not I drank any alcohol. (Really, lady?? What's that got to do with the price of tea in China?)
-Got lost on the way back to my apartment, which occurred in my attempt to escape the creepiness caused by Mr. Closeted Cassanova's suddenly feeling the need to see me out of the door (Remember: This man doesn't even make eye contact with me during regular school hours, and Korean men in general certainly do NOT partake in activities such as holding doors or escorting females!) and into the dark sameness that is night-time in Korea, so I made a wrong turn to get out of his sight (too short a distance for a taxi), to avoid the creepiness of his smiling and watching me walk away. (I think that I have a pretty good sense of direction, but you'd be surprised at how many cell phone stores, coffee shops (under the same brand), and internet rooms you could pass at any given time here, especially since there are no street signs.) Luckily, I was able to ask a few pedestrians for directions (which was still a gamble, given that many Koreans don't see any need to explore areas outside of their daily route, plus they would be more likely to give wrong directions rather than admit to not knowing something, and thus, losing "face"), and I eventually ended up right around the corner, again.
Like I said, this dinner was a cake walk (preferably, with Western-style cakes that don't include things like sweet potatoes and red beans..) compared to the first one. And while this story may be a bit more yawn-inducing (lol) than the first one, given the things that continue to constitute my Korean (work) experience, I'll take it!
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
The (Not So) Temple Tale.
So, I finally did it. The thing that every fellow foreigner has been ranting and raving about since I set foot on this peninsula: a temple stay.
Let me just preface it by saying that it was NOTHING like I expected, and, from the stories of others who have done it (as well as the itinerary itself), nothing like how it was supposed to be.
In the event that you've never slept in a Buddhist temple, let's start by exploring all of the things on the list of "supposed-to-be"s, shall we?
How it was supposed to be:
I'm told that it's supposed to be a very soul-calming and mind-opening experience. (Despite the fact that I'm definitely 100% Christian, I couldn't turn down the opportunity to have my soul calmed and mind opened, especially while residing in a place that is anything but.) Upon my arrival, I was supposed to be whisked into a room where I would learn all about Buddhism and temple protocols, and then made to change out of my regular-people clothes and into the baggy, gray, MC Hammer pants and Karate Kid shirt and belt similar to what the monks were wearing. (No one ever mentioned anything about having to shave my head, thankfully.) After having changed clothes, explored the temple grounds and getting settled into our women-only shared room, I was then supposed to have dinner with a monk and learn more about the Buddhist faith, various meditation techniques and exactly the things that temple life entails. I was also supposed to use this time to ask questions, which of course I had. After having my mind simultaneously calmed and blown via new information (I'm an info. addict, and I am NOT ashamed! Ha!) meditation, and temple tea, I was supposed to shower and retire to my pallet on the floor of my shared room (being extra careful not to kill so much as a mosquito, as Buddhists do not kill anything) and allow my newly-calmed mind to drift off into sleep in preparation for my 4 a.m. wake-up call. (This was all supposed to happen by 7p.m., in case you're curious.) After having awakened (That phrase was a bit of a challenge. You never realize how "use it or lose it" complex grammar is until you teach ESL!) before the sun, I was supposed to get lost in meditation and melody of the special drums being played by the monks. After being taken to yet another level of calmness, I was supposed to sip tea while discussing ways for world peace (Okay, so maybe that part was just something that I just imagined would happen, but you never know!). At around 6 a.m., I was supposed to have breakfast (vegetarian, bien sur) and meditate enough to be in complete harmony with the universe, drink some more temple tea and then prepare for my departure from the temple in an eternal state of bliss.
Now if you think for una segunda that even a watered-down version of the above story actually materialized, then I gotta bridge to sell you in Brooklyn. No, really...
How it was:
Where do I even begin? When we arrived, we were ushered to our shared, "women only" sleeping quarters, and allowed to explore the temple grounds. Never were we given our "Hammer time" pants nor our "Grasshopper/Wax on, wax off" shirts, which was a little disappointing for me. (Hey, I was really trying to get into the whole enlightened-minded-people-wear-the-same-clothes-as-the monks thing. Plus there was nothing calming about my multi-colored floral print dress.) While waiting for dinner, I hiked through the woods in said dress (And not a single mosquito bite! Amazing..) and had a 5 second conversation with a monk that we something like this:
Monk: "Hi. Where.are.you.from?"
Me, the soon-to-be-enlightened-chick-in-the-corner: "Oh, hi. I'm from the USA."
Monk: Smiles. "Very good. Nice to meet you."
Me: "Thank you. You, too."
Monk walks away.
Little did I know at the time, but, aside from a few orders given to me in Korean from the one female monk that I encountered (The next morning, she would also hand me a colorful bead bracelet with a glow-in-the-dark swastika in the middle. Apparently, Hitler stole it from the Buddhists. Who knew??) that would be the extent of my conversation with them. So I made small talk with the other foreigners who were also apart of the group to attempt to kill time. Dinner came and went sans fanfare, and again, there was more talking to foreigners. (I've never actually met anyone from Alaska. How's life up there? Cold? Is ice fishing really as boring as it looks? Do you make daily liquor runs to Russia?) Not exactly enlightening conversation. There was tea, but in light of the fact that it was like 95 degrees outside, I passed on that, too. Sadly, the most stimulation that I derived from "dinner with the monks" (sitting BEHIND us and eating in silence) was discovering that Alaska gets 20 consecutive hours of sunlight in the summer, and the slight sense of anxiety that I experienced while trying to eat every single thing that I had placed on my plate after being told that the monks are very serious about not wasting even a tiny morsel of food. (In the same breath I was also told that at some temples it is also customary to drink your dishwater as a sign of humbleness and harmony with the universe. Here's the part where I am actually happy about my unconventional temple stay experience.) The buck stopped there.
So, rather than meditating myself to sleep after dinner, we instead left the grounds to go to an expo of sorts, which was fine, because it was expected. What I didn't expect was watching our group leaders get inebriated while at said expo. (We were staying in a temple for goodness sakes! Really??) Turns out this was merely a preview of what was to come. Some other things that I didn't expect to happen:
-When we arrived back at the temple, I hopped off the shuttle and into a cloud of cigarette smoke. Apparently, our bus driver had decided that the entrance to the temple was an ideal spot to light up.
-After navigating through the nicotine, I entered the "women only" room (under temple rules, men were supposed to be prohibited) only to find that the men who had helped organize the trip were literally setting up mini tables for an impromptu makalee (Korean rice wine) party and chopping up watermelon (On our floor. In the woods. At night. In 95 degree weather. On the floor. Where around 15 women had to sleep and NOT kill forest-dwelling creatures.) and using super sticky/sweet rice cake as chasers. Completely incredulous, I glanced across the table to see our bus driver taking shots!? What the??? This "party" lasted well into the night, and eventually dwindled down to ONLY the very men who had initiated it, as the rest of us were exhausted. (I later found out that some older women had even taken their pallets outside in an attempt to get some sleep. Of course they would have never challenged the men. See "Hierarchies" story.)
-After we finally figured out a way to coax the men out of our room, the younger women trip organizers' extremely loud Korean chatter even later into the night and 1st thing in the morning. Read: No sleep.
-After having gotten intoxicated while at the expo, and staying up til the wee hours of the morning chatting, the ability of our group leader to change our wake-up time, and have it extended by 2.5 hours (which was only so that we could have breakfast if we chose to). While it may have seemed like a good idea at the time, it also meant no monk music nor meditating.
-Open, communal showers (No, I still haven't jumped on that bandwagon yet, as I receive enough staring from Koreans with my clothes on, thank you.), which involved a lady leaving the shower area but coming back to peek through the door at me, and then having a different lady(?) sit next to me the following morning and rub the skin on my arm and knee in amazement. (No, I hadn't shaved the previous night.)
-Cursing at the temple. Need I say more?
-Upon our return to the city, group leaders wanting to have dinner and drinks (with an emphasis on drinkS) after our long weekend of bus trekking, prolonged sun exposure ("sweaty" doesn't even begin to describe it), and lack of sleep. On a Sunday evening. (See: "A Short Story About Time")
After all of this hoopla, I actually began toying with the idea of drinking dish water. Would it really have been THAT bad?? I mean, I only used like 3 dishes anyway...
Oh, and did I mention that the main group-leader lady who stayed up late chatting and drinking, and who conveniently got all of the temple rules changed to suit her desires is--by her own admission-- a devout Buddhist??
Let me just preface it by saying that it was NOTHING like I expected, and, from the stories of others who have done it (as well as the itinerary itself), nothing like how it was supposed to be.
In the event that you've never slept in a Buddhist temple, let's start by exploring all of the things on the list of "supposed-to-be"s, shall we?
How it was supposed to be:
I'm told that it's supposed to be a very soul-calming and mind-opening experience. (Despite the fact that I'm definitely 100% Christian, I couldn't turn down the opportunity to have my soul calmed and mind opened, especially while residing in a place that is anything but.) Upon my arrival, I was supposed to be whisked into a room where I would learn all about Buddhism and temple protocols, and then made to change out of my regular-people clothes and into the baggy, gray, MC Hammer pants and Karate Kid shirt and belt similar to what the monks were wearing. (No one ever mentioned anything about having to shave my head, thankfully.) After having changed clothes, explored the temple grounds and getting settled into our women-only shared room, I was then supposed to have dinner with a monk and learn more about the Buddhist faith, various meditation techniques and exactly the things that temple life entails. I was also supposed to use this time to ask questions, which of course I had. After having my mind simultaneously calmed and blown via new information (I'm an info. addict, and I am NOT ashamed! Ha!) meditation, and temple tea, I was supposed to shower and retire to my pallet on the floor of my shared room (being extra careful not to kill so much as a mosquito, as Buddhists do not kill anything) and allow my newly-calmed mind to drift off into sleep in preparation for my 4 a.m. wake-up call. (This was all supposed to happen by 7p.m., in case you're curious.) After having awakened (That phrase was a bit of a challenge. You never realize how "use it or lose it" complex grammar is until you teach ESL!) before the sun, I was supposed to get lost in meditation and melody of the special drums being played by the monks. After being taken to yet another level of calmness, I was supposed to sip tea while discussing ways for world peace (Okay, so maybe that part was just something that I just imagined would happen, but you never know!). At around 6 a.m., I was supposed to have breakfast (vegetarian, bien sur) and meditate enough to be in complete harmony with the universe, drink some more temple tea and then prepare for my departure from the temple in an eternal state of bliss.
Now if you think for una segunda that even a watered-down version of the above story actually materialized, then I gotta bridge to sell you in Brooklyn. No, really...
How it was:
Where do I even begin? When we arrived, we were ushered to our shared, "women only" sleeping quarters, and allowed to explore the temple grounds. Never were we given our "Hammer time" pants nor our "Grasshopper/Wax on, wax off" shirts, which was a little disappointing for me. (Hey, I was really trying to get into the whole enlightened-minded-people-wear-the-same-clothes-as-the monks thing. Plus there was nothing calming about my multi-colored floral print dress.) While waiting for dinner, I hiked through the woods in said dress (And not a single mosquito bite! Amazing..) and had a 5 second conversation with a monk that we something like this:
Monk: "Hi. Where.are.you.from?"
Me, the soon-to-be-enlightened-chick-in-the-corner: "Oh, hi. I'm from the USA."
Monk: Smiles. "Very good. Nice to meet you."
Me: "Thank you. You, too."
Monk walks away.
Little did I know at the time, but, aside from a few orders given to me in Korean from the one female monk that I encountered (The next morning, she would also hand me a colorful bead bracelet with a glow-in-the-dark swastika in the middle. Apparently, Hitler stole it from the Buddhists. Who knew??) that would be the extent of my conversation with them. So I made small talk with the other foreigners who were also apart of the group to attempt to kill time. Dinner came and went sans fanfare, and again, there was more talking to foreigners. (I've never actually met anyone from Alaska. How's life up there? Cold? Is ice fishing really as boring as it looks? Do you make daily liquor runs to Russia?) Not exactly enlightening conversation. There was tea, but in light of the fact that it was like 95 degrees outside, I passed on that, too. Sadly, the most stimulation that I derived from "dinner with the monks" (sitting BEHIND us and eating in silence) was discovering that Alaska gets 20 consecutive hours of sunlight in the summer, and the slight sense of anxiety that I experienced while trying to eat every single thing that I had placed on my plate after being told that the monks are very serious about not wasting even a tiny morsel of food. (In the same breath I was also told that at some temples it is also customary to drink your dishwater as a sign of humbleness and harmony with the universe. Here's the part where I am actually happy about my unconventional temple stay experience.) The buck stopped there.
So, rather than meditating myself to sleep after dinner, we instead left the grounds to go to an expo of sorts, which was fine, because it was expected. What I didn't expect was watching our group leaders get inebriated while at said expo. (We were staying in a temple for goodness sakes! Really??) Turns out this was merely a preview of what was to come. Some other things that I didn't expect to happen:
-When we arrived back at the temple, I hopped off the shuttle and into a cloud of cigarette smoke. Apparently, our bus driver had decided that the entrance to the temple was an ideal spot to light up.
-After navigating through the nicotine, I entered the "women only" room (under temple rules, men were supposed to be prohibited) only to find that the men who had helped organize the trip were literally setting up mini tables for an impromptu makalee (Korean rice wine) party and chopping up watermelon (On our floor. In the woods. At night. In 95 degree weather. On the floor. Where around 15 women had to sleep and NOT kill forest-dwelling creatures.) and using super sticky/sweet rice cake as chasers. Completely incredulous, I glanced across the table to see our bus driver taking shots!? What the??? This "party" lasted well into the night, and eventually dwindled down to ONLY the very men who had initiated it, as the rest of us were exhausted. (I later found out that some older women had even taken their pallets outside in an attempt to get some sleep. Of course they would have never challenged the men. See "Hierarchies" story.)
-After we finally figured out a way to coax the men out of our room, the younger women trip organizers' extremely loud Korean chatter even later into the night and 1st thing in the morning. Read: No sleep.
-After having gotten intoxicated while at the expo, and staying up til the wee hours of the morning chatting, the ability of our group leader to change our wake-up time, and have it extended by 2.5 hours (which was only so that we could have breakfast if we chose to). While it may have seemed like a good idea at the time, it also meant no monk music nor meditating.
-Open, communal showers (No, I still haven't jumped on that bandwagon yet, as I receive enough staring from Koreans with my clothes on, thank you.), which involved a lady leaving the shower area but coming back to peek through the door at me, and then having a different lady(?) sit next to me the following morning and rub the skin on my arm and knee in amazement. (No, I hadn't shaved the previous night.)
-Cursing at the temple. Need I say more?
-Upon our return to the city, group leaders wanting to have dinner and drinks (with an emphasis on drinkS) after our long weekend of bus trekking, prolonged sun exposure ("sweaty" doesn't even begin to describe it), and lack of sleep. On a Sunday evening. (See: "A Short Story About Time")
After all of this hoopla, I actually began toying with the idea of drinking dish water. Would it really have been THAT bad?? I mean, I only used like 3 dishes anyway...
Oh, and did I mention that the main group-leader lady who stayed up late chatting and drinking, and who conveniently got all of the temple rules changed to suit her desires is--by her own admission-- a devout Buddhist??
Sunday, July 15, 2012
A Short Story About Time...
It's not really yours. At least not in Korea.
Your employer can arrange various dinners, marathon drinking sessions, karaoke gatherings, and team trips mere minutes before you're scheduled to leave work, and you're expected to attend them all. What's that you say? You had "plans"??? Bah!
This cultural norm also trickles down into social situations. Korean friends (especially if they're older than you--remember heirarchies?) think nothing of scheduling activities in your free time prior to finding out if you're actually "free."
And of course, everyone's always shocked when you are not actually available as you were "planned" to be.
The End.
Your employer can arrange various dinners, marathon drinking sessions, karaoke gatherings, and team trips mere minutes before you're scheduled to leave work, and you're expected to attend them all. What's that you say? You had "plans"??? Bah!
This cultural norm also trickles down into social situations. Korean friends (especially if they're older than you--remember heirarchies?) think nothing of scheduling activities in your free time prior to finding out if you're actually "free."
And of course, everyone's always shocked when you are not actually available as you were "planned" to be.
The End.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
The Tale of the Longest Bus Ride EVER...
Those who are close to me would call it inevitable, while I will just settle for the term "mind-blowing."
So I usually find myself largely ignoring old Korean men, as their stoic and perpetually angry expressions are extremely off-putting, if not completely intimidating altogether. Generally speaking, they are just not very happy/active individuals.. (Although there was that one time, when, after having slept for a mere 3 hours before having to work at an event outdoors, I decided to take a quick nap whilst walking through the park--Hey, it's called multi-tasking!--and upon opening my eyes I saw an old Korean male riding a UNICYCLE off in the distance. (How he was able to obtain a real-life, uber-fun unicycle in a country where the general populous doesn't have time to enjoy life I shall never know.) I nearly tripped over my own two feet out of shock and utter confusion. And then I laughed hysterically (maybe it was the extreme fatigue??) until he disappeared out of the park. Priceless.) That being said, they usually don't bother me, aside from the routine stares that I get from either being A) non-Korean, B) not white, or C) all of the above. So everybody's happy! Or not...
I don't know whether or not the price of tea in China has changed (Ha! Such a stupid phrase..But alas, I love it. Sigh.), but for some reason these "adjosshis" (as old Korean men are referred to here) have suddenly taken an extreme interest in my existence??
So I'm on one of the last buses coming back to my area on a week-night. As I am so entranced by my music (so as to remain awake and to keep my mind off the length of the bus ride), I do not notice the fact that all the people have gotten off, and I am the only passenger left until the bus abruptly stops and I hear the bus driver (also an adjosshi) yell something to me. So I look around, apologize, and quickly exit the bus VERY confused, as this bus was supposed to take me to my final destination, but whatever. So upon exiting the bus and seeing legions of Korean teenage boys dressed in school uniforms (it had to be after 10:30 at this point), I realized that I was at a bus station of some sort. Luckily for me, other buses were departing, so all that I had to do was chase the next one (Literally, as buses do not stop unless they are flagged down and chased. Silly people who actually WANT to ride buses!) and hop on. As it was at it's point of origin, it was refreshingly empty, and I resumed listening to my music and getting mentally prepared to the long ride ahead. After remaining relatively empty, a few stops later a group of people boarded. Anticipating the need for seats, I moved my bag into my lap from the seat next to me. Whhhhyy 'o whhhyyyy did I do that??? A few seconds later, out of the corner of my eye I observed an old man who was walking down the aisle take notice of me, and then sprint toward the seat next to me. SO I just turned up my music and proceeded to ignore his existence, as is common. (Again, Koreans=not bubbly individuals.) Imagine my surprise when he began to scoot closer and closer to me. I instinctively moved closer and closer to the window each time, until there was no room left and I realized that whatever was happening was no coincidence. So as I continued to ignore him, he starts poking me in my arm/side to get my attention. Annoyed at being poked, I look up to see him smiling (scary, given that they.don't.smile.ever. I'm pretty sure that he even had a gold tooth in the back, too!?) and pointing to his business card, which has magically appeared in his hands. I smile politely and take the card (using TWO hands of course, so as not to offend), and then nod slightly to show respect. After pretending to read/take interest in what it says (actually it was mostly written in English?? Something about being a wedding planner? Huh???), I start to put the card in my bag. He then, grabs my hand and attempts to speak English to me using a series of random verbs and pantomiming. Since I somehow understand him, I nod in agreement. He then resorts to Korean to ask me about going on a date with him, eating, drinking ("a little"--his exact words--which is also a complete lie. After attending a festival a while back, I noticed that the pamphlet said, "You think you drink like fish?? Well, Korean drink like WHALE!!" No arguing that!), and seeing a movie (I think?? maybe I'm getting him confused with another one from yet another bus...). (Side note: these are the same people who are known to openly insult white men who are even walking with Korean women. Koreans will tell you that they are "one race," and they are doing everything in their power--especially the old men--to main that distinction! Keep that in mind.) It's then that I realize his motives, and pretend not to have understood any of his requests. I smile politely and turn back around to face the window. I then feel him vigorously patting the left area of my chest (The fact that I'm a girl makes it a wee bit more than that.) with one hand and touching my knee with the other. Mortified, I turn around and push his hand away. "What are you doing? Don't do that" I tell him, but he is so excited to talk that after stopping, he resumes, only this timely slower, and even more child-like. He's now telling me that he is happy to meet me and that he works with people who are getting married. Again, trying not to be rude, I tell him, in Korean, "don't do that" and wave his hand away. I look around the bus and there are only a few, nearly life-less bodies scattered around, all collectively engulfed in their perpetual tiredness. (Not that they would've cared anyway. He'sa king an old man, he gets do do whatever he so chooses, be it "right" or "wrong.") At this point I'm annoyed AND exhausted, so I simply pretend not to understand that he's telling (Asking? Yeah right!) me to call him at that moment so that he can have my number, (of course I do no such thing) and that he will be waiting for my call the next day for our "date." Sir, as far as I'm concerned, we've already had one, which ended with you making it all the way to second base, thank you very little!!! Thanking GOD that my stop is finally approaching, I go to push the button and realize that he's waving good-bye. Nice. After nearly an hour on this bus from one part of the city to the next, it's revealed that he will also be getting off at my stop. Perfect! Thinking quickly, I hang back and wait for him to get off the bus, all the while making phone gestures with his hands. "Call!" he demands.
And yet again, no tip.
(I sprint to my apartment, relieved that I'm off that bus and away from the old Korean man with the gold molar who will be awaiting my call the next day. I chuckle at my luck, not realizing that two not dissimilar situations were about to happen to me again on two different buses a mere two days later...Yiiiiiikkees...)
So I usually find myself largely ignoring old Korean men, as their stoic and perpetually angry expressions are extremely off-putting, if not completely intimidating altogether. Generally speaking, they are just not very happy/active individuals.. (Although there was that one time, when, after having slept for a mere 3 hours before having to work at an event outdoors, I decided to take a quick nap whilst walking through the park--Hey, it's called multi-tasking!--and upon opening my eyes I saw an old Korean male riding a UNICYCLE off in the distance. (How he was able to obtain a real-life, uber-fun unicycle in a country where the general populous doesn't have time to enjoy life I shall never know.) I nearly tripped over my own two feet out of shock and utter confusion. And then I laughed hysterically (maybe it was the extreme fatigue??) until he disappeared out of the park. Priceless.) That being said, they usually don't bother me, aside from the routine stares that I get from either being A) non-Korean, B) not white, or C) all of the above. So everybody's happy! Or not...
I don't know whether or not the price of tea in China has changed (Ha! Such a stupid phrase..But alas, I love it. Sigh.), but for some reason these "adjosshis" (as old Korean men are referred to here) have suddenly taken an extreme interest in my existence??
So I'm on one of the last buses coming back to my area on a week-night. As I am so entranced by my music (so as to remain awake and to keep my mind off the length of the bus ride), I do not notice the fact that all the people have gotten off, and I am the only passenger left until the bus abruptly stops and I hear the bus driver (also an adjosshi) yell something to me. So I look around, apologize, and quickly exit the bus VERY confused, as this bus was supposed to take me to my final destination, but whatever. So upon exiting the bus and seeing legions of Korean teenage boys dressed in school uniforms (it had to be after 10:30 at this point), I realized that I was at a bus station of some sort. Luckily for me, other buses were departing, so all that I had to do was chase the next one (Literally, as buses do not stop unless they are flagged down and chased. Silly people who actually WANT to ride buses!) and hop on. As it was at it's point of origin, it was refreshingly empty, and I resumed listening to my music and getting mentally prepared to the long ride ahead. After remaining relatively empty, a few stops later a group of people boarded. Anticipating the need for seats, I moved my bag into my lap from the seat next to me. Whhhhyy 'o whhhyyyy did I do that??? A few seconds later, out of the corner of my eye I observed an old man who was walking down the aisle take notice of me, and then sprint toward the seat next to me. SO I just turned up my music and proceeded to ignore his existence, as is common. (Again, Koreans=not bubbly individuals.) Imagine my surprise when he began to scoot closer and closer to me. I instinctively moved closer and closer to the window each time, until there was no room left and I realized that whatever was happening was no coincidence. So as I continued to ignore him, he starts poking me in my arm/side to get my attention. Annoyed at being poked, I look up to see him smiling (scary, given that they.don't.smile.ever. I'm pretty sure that he even had a gold tooth in the back, too!?) and pointing to his business card, which has magically appeared in his hands. I smile politely and take the card (using TWO hands of course, so as not to offend), and then nod slightly to show respect. After pretending to read/take interest in what it says (actually it was mostly written in English?? Something about being a wedding planner? Huh???), I start to put the card in my bag. He then, grabs my hand and attempts to speak English to me using a series of random verbs and pantomiming. Since I somehow understand him, I nod in agreement. He then resorts to Korean to ask me about going on a date with him, eating, drinking ("a little"--his exact words--which is also a complete lie. After attending a festival a while back, I noticed that the pamphlet said, "You think you drink like fish?? Well, Korean drink like WHALE!!" No arguing that!), and seeing a movie (I think?? maybe I'm getting him confused with another one from yet another bus...). (Side note: these are the same people who are known to openly insult white men who are even walking with Korean women. Koreans will tell you that they are "one race," and they are doing everything in their power--especially the old men--to main that distinction! Keep that in mind.) It's then that I realize his motives, and pretend not to have understood any of his requests. I smile politely and turn back around to face the window. I then feel him vigorously patting the left area of my chest (The fact that I'm a girl makes it a wee bit more than that.) with one hand and touching my knee with the other. Mortified, I turn around and push his hand away. "What are you doing? Don't do that" I tell him, but he is so excited to talk that after stopping, he resumes, only this timely slower, and even more child-like. He's now telling me that he is happy to meet me and that he works with people who are getting married. Again, trying not to be rude, I tell him, in Korean, "don't do that" and wave his hand away. I look around the bus and there are only a few, nearly life-less bodies scattered around, all collectively engulfed in their perpetual tiredness. (Not that they would've cared anyway. He's
And yet again, no tip.
(I sprint to my apartment, relieved that I'm off that bus and away from the old Korean man with the gold molar who will be awaiting my call the next day. I chuckle at my luck, not realizing that two not dissimilar situations were about to happen to me again on two different buses a mere two days later...Yiiiiiikkees...)
Sunday, June 10, 2012
The quest for "High Nose, Big Eye, Small Face"
Koreans are surprisingly vain; there's no question about it. More so than Americans (and I didn't think it could get any worse than America...) Given their reputation of having one of the best education systems in the world (no comment!!), I naturally assumed that the focal point of their lives would be education. Ha! Boy was I wrong!
You see, while high academic achievement is important (to the extent that it sets you up to be able to make the most money possible--and Koreans LOVE money!), I would argue that physical appearance is even more important. Nearly all of the students carry around mirrors the size of their heads (no exaggeration), and even larger, full-body mirrors can be found everywhere from the hallways to the principal's office. (Oh, and don't forget the public restrooms, where there are mirrors in each individual stall, placed strategically at the eye level of the person sitting on the toilet at the moment. You're on your own if you want hand soap, though...)
So it comes as no surprise that while teaching teenagers, and working around women, the topic of "beauty" comes up on a daily basis. As the students are applying whitening cream to their faces and using toothpick-like devices to poke their eyelids into forming what Koreans refer to as "double" (i.e. Western-looking) eyelids (Well, the ones who haven't yet had the surgical procedure done. After we returned from our first holiday break of the year, I was shocked to see all of the students who were still wearing surgical tape around their eyes, apparently having taken advantage of their break from school to have their eyes done.), they always tell me how much they adore big eyes, "S-line" body shapes, and small faces. (I'm starting to think that this "big eye" obsession has become a little too extreme, as all of the female news anchors--and some actresses, who, I'm told, would not be taken seriously by their fans without it--have gotten so much of the skin around their eyes cut off that they look like real-life Anime characters, just plain freakish.) As far as the "small face" goes, there are ample billboards advertising plastic surgery procedures that involve chopping off pieces of the jaw and cutting it into a more slender, rounded chin, complete with before and after pictures! Nose and breast jobs are no big deal--only a few thousand dollars and a few stitches, and voila, you're set for life!
The men want to be beautiful too. My neighbor casually told me about his male friends' seemingly unnecessary procedures, from nose jobs, to chin jobs, to space-between-the-nose-and-upper-lip jobs, along with his father's use of special shoes to look taller (Hilarious, considering that this is a place where you have to remove your shoes constantly in public places. When I mentioned why this very fact might pose a slight problem to his father's ingenious plan, he told me that his father's strategy is to always be the last person in the group to take off his shoes before entering a building, and the first person to put them back on on the way out, even if it means that he has to drastically shorten his time to eat or handle business.), and the fact that many Korean men routinely go to beauty salons to have their hair permed. (He also spoke nonchalantly about all of his mother's voluntary surgical procedures, which was a little odd, given that he told me that she had also had to have very necessary surgery to remove cancer from some part of her body. How does that even work??)
Back to my point about being "set for life." Again, in a place where it's common for students to go to school from 8:30am to 10:00pm (and then study at private academies until midnight), and the government just recently made it illegal to have school on Saturdays (Though there are many ways around this, with the most common being to simply lengthen the school year and shorten holiday breaks. Calling Saturday school "optional" also helps.), not only do you have to include a professionally-taken photo of yourself on your resume, but most people attach pictures that look NOTHING like their actual faces?! Yep. I believe they call it "photoshop." Every.single.picture is photoshopped here. Resume pictures, social networking site pictures--even family photos! After having to have some pictures taken for my official documents here, I was floored to discover that the very well-meaning photographer had even photoshopped the pictures of me?!? When I pointed out to my co-teacher the fact that my eyes weren't quite as large as in the picture (He even added a cartoon-like twinkle to my eyes. A TWINKLE.), and that my skin wasn't exactly so flawless and creamy, she nodded with satisfaction and simply said, "More beautiful."
I am told that I am lucky that photographs aren't required on my domestic resume, because in Korea, employers are only interested in hiring beautiful people.
By the looks of it, the word "beautiful" is a pretty euphemism for people whose facial features are "not ethnically Korean."
You see, while high academic achievement is important (to the extent that it sets you up to be able to make the most money possible--and Koreans LOVE money!), I would argue that physical appearance is even more important. Nearly all of the students carry around mirrors the size of their heads (no exaggeration), and even larger, full-body mirrors can be found everywhere from the hallways to the principal's office. (Oh, and don't forget the public restrooms, where there are mirrors in each individual stall, placed strategically at the eye level of the person sitting on the toilet at the moment. You're on your own if you want hand soap, though...)
So it comes as no surprise that while teaching teenagers, and working around women, the topic of "beauty" comes up on a daily basis. As the students are applying whitening cream to their faces and using toothpick-like devices to poke their eyelids into forming what Koreans refer to as "double" (i.e. Western-looking) eyelids (Well, the ones who haven't yet had the surgical procedure done. After we returned from our first holiday break of the year, I was shocked to see all of the students who were still wearing surgical tape around their eyes, apparently having taken advantage of their break from school to have their eyes done.), they always tell me how much they adore big eyes, "S-line" body shapes, and small faces. (I'm starting to think that this "big eye" obsession has become a little too extreme, as all of the female news anchors--and some actresses, who, I'm told, would not be taken seriously by their fans without it--have gotten so much of the skin around their eyes cut off that they look like real-life Anime characters, just plain freakish.) As far as the "small face" goes, there are ample billboards advertising plastic surgery procedures that involve chopping off pieces of the jaw and cutting it into a more slender, rounded chin, complete with before and after pictures! Nose and breast jobs are no big deal--only a few thousand dollars and a few stitches, and voila, you're set for life!
The men want to be beautiful too. My neighbor casually told me about his male friends' seemingly unnecessary procedures, from nose jobs, to chin jobs, to space-between-the-nose-and-upper-lip jobs, along with his father's use of special shoes to look taller (Hilarious, considering that this is a place where you have to remove your shoes constantly in public places. When I mentioned why this very fact might pose a slight problem to his father's ingenious plan, he told me that his father's strategy is to always be the last person in the group to take off his shoes before entering a building, and the first person to put them back on on the way out, even if it means that he has to drastically shorten his time to eat or handle business.), and the fact that many Korean men routinely go to beauty salons to have their hair permed. (He also spoke nonchalantly about all of his mother's voluntary surgical procedures, which was a little odd, given that he told me that she had also had to have very necessary surgery to remove cancer from some part of her body. How does that even work??)
Back to my point about being "set for life." Again, in a place where it's common for students to go to school from 8:30am to 10:00pm (and then study at private academies until midnight), and the government just recently made it illegal to have school on Saturdays (Though there are many ways around this, with the most common being to simply lengthen the school year and shorten holiday breaks. Calling Saturday school "optional" also helps.), not only do you have to include a professionally-taken photo of yourself on your resume, but most people attach pictures that look NOTHING like their actual faces?! Yep. I believe they call it "photoshop." Every.single.picture is photoshopped here. Resume pictures, social networking site pictures--even family photos! After having to have some pictures taken for my official documents here, I was floored to discover that the very well-meaning photographer had even photoshopped the pictures of me?!? When I pointed out to my co-teacher the fact that my eyes weren't quite as large as in the picture (He even added a cartoon-like twinkle to my eyes. A TWINKLE.), and that my skin wasn't exactly so flawless and creamy, she nodded with satisfaction and simply said, "More beautiful."
I am told that I am lucky that photographs aren't required on my domestic resume, because in Korea, employers are only interested in hiring beautiful people.
By the looks of it, the word "beautiful" is a pretty euphemism for people whose facial features are "not ethnically Korean."
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Beware the Yellow Dust!!!
So apparently in doing my pre-Korea research, I missed the part about there being yellow dust storms. (Please don't bother asking me "how" it is that I was able to overlook such a major aspect of the Korean climate, as I've already asked myself that same question too many times. Ah well, I'm here now!) As any red-blooded Korean will tell you, the dust migrates over from China, each spring, is a byproduct of China's sacrifice of trees for economic growth (Can't eat trees!) and it is beyond obnoxious. (The word "China" is italicized to illustrate the deep disdain that most Koreans feel towards China--and Japan, too, for that matter. When I innocently inquired as to why that is, I was told "Because China gives us the yellow dust and the Japanese STOLE our cherry blossoms!!" True story.) They will also tell you that it can make you sick when inhaled on days when the levels are particularly high, and that you should invest in (okay, so they only cost like 2 bucks) a face mask that covers your mouth and nose. (Which probably half-way explains why all the little babies in the park look like tiny surgeons!) When I actually did some research on the yellow dust storms (after an entire day of being fully exposed, no doubt), I found out that it can also irritate your eyes and skin. (Wait. Skin?? My pores are already plenty clogged, thank you very much. They will most certainly NOT be requiring any help from China...) From what I can tell, it doesn't really seem like a huge deal for anyone who is over the age of nine and under the age of 90, and who doesn't have any major problems with allergies. In fact, some days when the dust is at it's highest levels it's kind of cool to watch it (literally) blow through the trees. (I'm a dreamer, what can I say?) Well, at least I used to think that watching dangerous dust blow was cool, until I realized that that this "cool" dust is more closely related to the word "pollutant" than it is "fairy," and that its magical journey through the trees eventually ended in my eyes, nose, and throat. (And heaven forbid that I have to visit the ear, nose and throat doctor here again. The guy that I saw was wearing one of those creepy headbands with the big, metal disks in the front like you see in cartoons, his nurses were all silent and wearing shagadelic prints, and his medical apparatus looked like video games from the 80s! Plus he sent me out into the world (unbeknownst to me) with white stuff oozing from my ears. I aint goin' back! You can't make me!!) Being the rebel that I am, I underestimated the dust and spent an entire day at the park. By the end of the day, I could literally see it comfortably chill-laxin' (and I don't even like that word) in each of the individual curls in my hair, from root to tip. (No exaggeration.) It was then that I discovered that yellow dust wasn't to be taken too lightly. (I can only imagine how much dust I had actually inhaled, yikes. Good thing God created nose hairs!)
Despite my colorful (but accurate, none the less) depiction of the great annoyance that is "yellow dust," there is plenty of good news. First of all, the news (and U.S. military websites) issues daily forecasts and warnings to stay indoors during peak times. Second, there are still plenty of low-dust-level days, and it has yet to inhibit me from doing anything that I've wanted to do. Further, I'm told that, due to global warming, spring only lasts for a short time here anyway. (Hey, you can't have your cake and eat it too.) While some people have had some difficulties, I think that I can say that I really haven't been bothered by it in any major way so far.
If you ask my pores, they may tell a different tale, though.
Despite my colorful (but accurate, none the less) depiction of the great annoyance that is "yellow dust," there is plenty of good news. First of all, the news (and U.S. military websites) issues daily forecasts and warnings to stay indoors during peak times. Second, there are still plenty of low-dust-level days, and it has yet to inhibit me from doing anything that I've wanted to do. Further, I'm told that, due to global warming, spring only lasts for a short time here anyway. (Hey, you can't have your cake and eat it too.) While some people have had some difficulties, I think that I can say that I really haven't been bothered by it in any major way so far.
If you ask my pores, they may tell a different tale, though.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Here, Hierarchy Rains...
There are some things that you just can't learn in the classroom. When I was in grad school, I took a course about managing the human resource aspect of different cultures. (Or maybe it was about managing multi-national corporations?? Yeah, something like that.) So of course I learned about the heavy emphasis placed on status in many Asian cultures, especially within the workplace. What they didn't tell me, however, was the fact that hierarchies exist within every.aspect.of.Korean.life..
A small digression about making friends:
Being the friendly little fairy that I am (and also being new to the country), I wanted to meet as many people as I could. While meeting fellow foreigners (I use this term because in Korea, anyone who's NOT Korean, despite his or her actual country of origin, is not only considered, but also called a "foreigner."), was no task at all, meeting Koreans of the same age is not as easy as walking in a bar and striking up a conversation. (There goes my plan!) This comes as no surprise at all when you consider the fact that they work insanely long hours, are painfully shy, and generally prefer to mingle with people who are already in their long pre-established circles. (When I asked my friend why she didn't bother to invite her good friend out with us so that she could meet another girl, who had just returned home to Korea after living in the U.S. for 7 or 8 or 10 years, she frowned and retorted, "but she doesn't know her." When I pointed out the fact that I (an obvious outsider) had been introduced to both girls, she politely explained that "Korean girls are shy to meet other Korean girls, but it's okay for you because you're a foreigner." Yeah...) In the end, every single Korean male or female that I have met thus far has been a result of my being introduced from another person, and that chain leads all the way to the first person that I met here (co-teachers don't count!): my neighbor. Kinda crazy when you think about it...
Okay, so you came here to hear about heirarchies. (Try saying that 10 times fast. Or not.) Well, it goes without saying that age is the number one thing that determines your daily life, from how you address the store clerk to the type of endings you use for your sentences to even which verbs that you use to describe a situation. (For example, if you want to say that someone is asleep or eating, the verb that you would use would depend on the age of the person completing the action. Con.fu.sing.) So it's waaay deeper than the pultry "sir" and "ma'am" that we use in the West. Your age (determined by the lunar calendar, which already makes you older than you really are), goes so far as to determine even how you address your school mates and--get this--siblings?! Older and younger siblings get called by different names completely, and there are 4 different words that can be used to address your older siblings depending on the sex/gender (synonymous here) of both yourself and of the older sibling in reference!
Speaking of "referencing people," you usually don't call people by their name. (This includes family members and "friends," which further emphasizes how loosely Koreans use the word. For example, if you meet any random person and they discover that you are both the same age, they will very likely refer to you as their "friend," since no one is of higher status than the other person. Fortunately, many younger, more worldly, Koreans have taken to using American names, so as to get around the whole "my-friends-can't-call-me-by-my-name" thing when dealing with foreigners.) Rather, people are generally addressed by their status (or a combination of one of their names--can't remember which one right now, but one is acceptable and the the other is deeply offensive--and their status), which is why it's so important to know who's higher up in the food chain, during any social interactions. Which is how I quickly learned that when all of the younger Koreans that I encountered asked me my age (Why does the bartender, who is female by the way, really need to know how old I am? Same goes for the nice lady in the museum... Turns out it wasn't the good genes!), they were trying to determine our respective statuses, and thus, establish the roles of each party for the duration of our relationship, however short.
Or maybe they just really wanted to know how to refer to me while talking to their co-workers? "This distinguished person would like a mimosa" versus "That foreigner over there wants to know what time the exhibit closes." (Literal translation of actual words used.)
Call it tomato or tomahto, but in Korea, it's the difference between a mere drizzle and an outright downpour.
A small digression about making friends:
Being the friendly little fairy that I am (and also being new to the country), I wanted to meet as many people as I could. While meeting fellow foreigners (I use this term because in Korea, anyone who's NOT Korean, despite his or her actual country of origin, is not only considered, but also called a "foreigner."), was no task at all, meeting Koreans of the same age is not as easy as walking in a bar and striking up a conversation. (There goes my plan!) This comes as no surprise at all when you consider the fact that they work insanely long hours, are painfully shy, and generally prefer to mingle with people who are already in their long pre-established circles. (When I asked my friend why she didn't bother to invite her good friend out with us so that she could meet another girl, who had just returned home to Korea after living in the U.S. for 7 or 8 or 10 years, she frowned and retorted, "but she doesn't know her." When I pointed out the fact that I (an obvious outsider) had been introduced to both girls, she politely explained that "Korean girls are shy to meet other Korean girls, but it's okay for you because you're a foreigner." Yeah...) In the end, every single Korean male or female that I have met thus far has been a result of my being introduced from another person, and that chain leads all the way to the first person that I met here (co-teachers don't count!): my neighbor. Kinda crazy when you think about it...
Okay, so you came here to hear about heirarchies. (Try saying that 10 times fast. Or not.) Well, it goes without saying that age is the number one thing that determines your daily life, from how you address the store clerk to the type of endings you use for your sentences to even which verbs that you use to describe a situation. (For example, if you want to say that someone is asleep or eating, the verb that you would use would depend on the age of the person completing the action. Con.fu.sing.) So it's waaay deeper than the pultry "sir" and "ma'am" that we use in the West. Your age (determined by the lunar calendar, which already makes you older than you really are), goes so far as to determine even how you address your school mates and--get this--siblings?! Older and younger siblings get called by different names completely, and there are 4 different words that can be used to address your older siblings depending on the sex/gender (synonymous here) of both yourself and of the older sibling in reference!
Speaking of "referencing people," you usually don't call people by their name. (This includes family members and "friends," which further emphasizes how loosely Koreans use the word. For example, if you meet any random person and they discover that you are both the same age, they will very likely refer to you as their "friend," since no one is of higher status than the other person. Fortunately, many younger, more worldly, Koreans have taken to using American names, so as to get around the whole "my-friends-can't-call-me-by-my-name" thing when dealing with foreigners.) Rather, people are generally addressed by their status (or a combination of one of their names--can't remember which one right now, but one is acceptable and the the other is deeply offensive--and their status), which is why it's so important to know who's higher up in the food chain, during any social interactions. Which is how I quickly learned that when all of the younger Koreans that I encountered asked me my age (Why does the bartender, who is female by the way, really need to know how old I am? Same goes for the nice lady in the museum... Turns out it wasn't the good genes!), they were trying to determine our respective statuses, and thus, establish the roles of each party for the duration of our relationship, however short.
Or maybe they just really wanted to know how to refer to me while talking to their co-workers? "This distinguished person would like a mimosa" versus "That foreigner over there wants to know what time the exhibit closes." (Literal translation of actual words used.)
Call it tomato or tomahto, but in Korea, it's the difference between a mere drizzle and an outright downpour.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
The Tale of the First School Dinner...
It is here where it would all begin..Where my outlook of my school, relationships, and of the entire Korean peninsula would be shaped, forever altered from what I initially believed to be true...
So I got word that we would be having our first (after) school dinner right before it happened (as is typical for being on the receiving end of information here). Given all the stories that I had heard about the mandatory, boring, dull, mandatory nature of these functions, I was naturally annoyed that I had to attend one. (As is the general nature of school functions that involve foreign teachers, the Korean staff converse amongst each other and the foreign teacher is largely ignored and left thinking, "Why am I even here??" ...Or the foreign teacher is the central talking point, which also leaves s/he wondering, "Why am I even here??") So this is what I was up against..Bring on the boredom!
So after an all-staff dodgeball game (which was actually pretty hilarious to watch--all these teachers wearing 4-inch platforms and scurrying away from the ball as though their very lives depended on it!), we go to an expensive Korean barbeque restaurant, where you cook the meat yourself at your own table, and the bottles of rice vodka (it's called "soju") and rice wine ("makalee") are seemingly innumerable. I, of course, was seated near Mrs. C initially, but after about an hour of watching her sip her one teeny, tiny shot of soju (drinking scares her, as does riding a bicycle--which is why she never learned to ride one) and listening to her chat incessantly about nothing to the other older ladies who were also seated at the table, I decided to go mingle with the other teachers, who seemed to be in a completely different world of joy and merriment. (This lone gesture would be the cause of all future drama surrounding this lady. No exaggeration.)
So I slide over to the "fun" table (quite literally, as we were all sitting on the floor, shoe-less), where my favorite/secret co-teacher is sitting, along with a few other (older) male teachers. As my co-teacher and I are chatting and enjoying the services, naturally, the men decide to join in on the conversation too (despite not actually speaking English). The computer teacher yells my name and suggests that we do a "love shot," and--as this is a purely "me, too" culture--then the music teacher suggests the same thing, followed by the teacher whom I affectionately refer to in my mind as "He Who Clicks," as, despite sitting next to him for months, I still lack any idea as to what it is that he teaches. In any case, he can always be found sitting stoically at his desk for extended periods of time clicking his mouse, slowly and methodically. (I guess I could just ask him what he teaches, but where's the fun in that??) So the laughter and "love shots" are flowing (saying "no" is considered deeply offensive), and all is good with the universe. Of course this didn't go unnoticed by Mr. S., who quickly came to make his presense known. He suggests that we do a shot (thankfully not of the "love" variety!), and then calls my name and yells that he is single. I smile and politely (always politely--these are some of the most sensitve humans on Earth) assert to him that he is, indeed, nothing of the sort. He then asserts, incredulously, that he is, and that he is actually "playboy," all the while patting his chest with both hands simultaneously. Seeing that ignoring his antics wasn't working, I then ask my co-teacher if Mr. S. is married, to which she replies with a straight face, "of course." So I just shake my head and pretend to be engulfed in eating cooked meat wrapped in leaves, hoping that he'll get bored and drop the subject, which he does. (In all honesty, I strongly believe that the fact that he remained so adamant about denying his marital status is rooted in a whole different issue unique to Korea called "weekend couples." It's too far off the subject to discuss here, but maybe I'll talk about it in a later post?) Naturally, as the jokes and flatteries are flowing, I spot Mrs. C. glaring over in my direction on several occasions, which I conveniently ignore. So goes the mingling and masticating, and alas, it's time to leave the restaurant.
The second phase of school dinner is the singing-room session, where a few private karaoke rooms are booked and filled with--yep, you guessed it--more alcohol. (Despite their love of public baths, Koreans are painfully shy when it comes to singing, speaking, or breathing in front other people, so the massive amounts of soju, makalee, and beer are as necessary as the very microphones used to sing!) So as we're walking to the singing room, Mrs. C. tells me that she felt "left out" while I was talking to my other co-teacher, all the while using the tone of a whiny three-year-old. Just as I am politely explaining to her the fact that it's not fair for me nor the other teachers for me to only talk to her all the time, someone yells my name and grabs my hand. Confused, I look up to see that it is none other than the very important man who presides over all of the school staff, third in rank (which is oh so important here) under the principal and vice principal. (Now not only does he not speak English, but he has probably been the least friendly of all the male staff since my arrival--very shy of course, but oftentimes pretending that I don't even exist!) So now I'm in a complete panic, as this is a culture where people don't even hug or shake hands as a form of greeting, and you NEVER touch someone who is your superior, ESPECIALLY if they are of the opposite sex (Translation: male). A few seconds pass, and I realize that he has no intentions of letting my hand go, and he is, instead, holding it and leading me in the direction of the singing room. Mortified and confused, I look around to see if there are any witnesses around to put an end to this awkwardness, and I spot Mrs. C., whose looks like she's just seen a ghost (as a woman and of lower rank, she was completely powerless to do anything about it), my favorite co-teacher (whose even more powerless) and, who but the very principal and vice-principal (the proverbial kings of thecastle school, and the only people who would have had the power to speak up). They, too, are wide-eyed and speechless, staring at me staring at them. Realizing that no one was going to do anything, and that I needed to make my discomfort obvious, I shake my head and put my hand over my face, and allow this man who I wasn't even sure liked me, lead me down the sidewalk and across the street while everyone watched in shock. (It's interesting to note that we--yes "we"-- nearly got hit by a car, as with his newly-found confidence, Mr. Closeted Cassanova (as I'll now refer to him) decided that he didn't need to wait for traffic to pass, and that, because he was holding my hand, he could instead just traverse the busy street and command oncoming traffic to stop by simply holding out his hand in front of the cars. Judging by the frowns on the faces of the drivers, I'm assuming that they didn't find my presence nearly as magical as he did, but--by the grace of God!--it worked, and we both walked away unscathed.)
So we get to our destination, and (thank goodness for narrow staircases!) I am finally able to let go of Mr. Closeted Cassanova's hand (without being impolite). I quickly find my secret/favorite co-teacher, and everyone's singing and mingling (except for Mrs. C., who is now seething with envy), and enjoying the night. It gets a little blury here, but at some point as I'm hopping from room to room and rapping along to (upon their request for me to sing, of course) songs like Nelly's "Shake a Tailfeather" and Sean Paul's "We Be Burnin" (Side note: What the heck was I thinking, choosing those songs???! Thank heavens those people didn't speak English! AHAHAHAHAHA!!), a few other male teachers (whom I had never met/seen?) pull me aside and decide to practice their English by engaging in very basic conversations. Of course they also want to toast to something like every half of a second, but by now I'm used to it. As I'm taking to one teacher--out of the blue--Mr. Closeted Cassanova (Mr. CC) walks over and sits next to me. He then proceeds to interrupt the talking teacher's sentence (in Korean), and says something like "go away now." The talking teacher looks surprised, and then continues to talk to me, and then Mr. CC hurls mean Korean sounds (hey, it is a tonal language, after all!) toward him and--get this--proceeds to frown and wave his hand in front of his face rapidly as though he is waving away a pesky mosquito on a hot summer night. The talking teacher, being the obedient Korean public servant that he is (no, really--that's what Korean teachers are referred to as), grabs "his" drink (maybe he simply picked up someone else's old drink, no way to tell really) and walks away like an embarrassed puppy literally with his head down and his tail between his legs (okay, so maybe the tail part isn't literal, but you get the point). He didn't look at me or come anywhere near me for the rest of the night. O.o Meanwhile, Mr. CC decides that he wants to "talk"...(Used lightly as he.doesn't.speak.English.) Yikes.
The remainder of the night goes on without as much fanfare as before. Mr. S is completely plastered (red face and all), and he has elected to use his turn to sing songs to me. (Maybe this is where he got the genius idea to sing Korean ballads to me later? I'll never know.) "He Who Clicks" is falling on his knees a lot (probably not a good look, on account of his oldness and all), and even through his inability to maintain his balance using only his own two legs (Why o why were humans cursed to be born with only two measely legs?? Tripods almost never lose their balance; surely there's something to be learned from them!), he retains his Korean-style, expressionless face. At some point Mrs. C, having had enough of my fraternizing, stormed off and left completely. (Though I can assure you, she wasn't missed.) At their request, I "sing" (Ha! I suck at singing!) one last song, choosing Sean Kingston's "Beautiful Girls" with no pun intended at all, and then, it's time (Speaking of, what time is it anyway??) to go home.
As I'm waving down a taxi to share with a nice teacher whom I'd never met (but who apparently is aware that we are "neighbors"), I'm told that, upon Mr. S.' request, they would like to continue drinking elsewhere. They explain that by Korean standards, it is still early, and that the party is, in fact, just beginning. Luckily for me, a taxi has appeared (we'd been waiting for a while), and I run toward it while yelling slurred good-byes, ready for it to whisk me far away to my apartment. (Turns out the nice lady wasn't as inebriated and confused as I thought--we were indeed only a 5 minute drive away from home. Imagine that!) I enter my apartment and prepare for work the next day. It's only Tuesday....
The next day, all of the male teachers act strange around me, and generally try to avoid making any eye-contact with me at all. All except Mr. S., of course, who has no shame. He waltzes over to me and tells me that he has a headache and makes gestures indicating a stomach ache, too. I nod in understanding, though I am feeling fine. Mr. CC generally looks flushed and ashamed, and when I finally run-into the principal and vice-principal, they are in such shock with not knowing how I would be reacting that when I greet them they just stare at me with wide eyes, afraid to say a word.
(This would all pass of course, and a few days later, Mr. CC pulled a move from Mr. S.' figurative playbook and stood in my path so that I would have to speak to him. I did so and smiled, as I continued to walk to class with Mrs. C. (who was still bitter, but containing it for now). After we had passed him, Mrs. C. looked back and began to laugh. When I asked her what was so funny, she said, "after you say hi to him, he is only looking up at the sky and smiling.")
We were indoors.
So I got word that we would be having our first (after) school dinner right before it happened (as is typical for being on the receiving end of information here). Given all the stories that I had heard about the mandatory, boring, dull, mandatory nature of these functions, I was naturally annoyed that I had to attend one. (As is the general nature of school functions that involve foreign teachers, the Korean staff converse amongst each other and the foreign teacher is largely ignored and left thinking, "Why am I even here??" ...Or the foreign teacher is the central talking point, which also leaves s/he wondering, "Why am I even here??") So this is what I was up against..Bring on the boredom!
So after an all-staff dodgeball game (which was actually pretty hilarious to watch--all these teachers wearing 4-inch platforms and scurrying away from the ball as though their very lives depended on it!), we go to an expensive Korean barbeque restaurant, where you cook the meat yourself at your own table, and the bottles of rice vodka (it's called "soju") and rice wine ("makalee") are seemingly innumerable. I, of course, was seated near Mrs. C initially, but after about an hour of watching her sip her one teeny, tiny shot of soju (drinking scares her, as does riding a bicycle--which is why she never learned to ride one) and listening to her chat incessantly about nothing to the other older ladies who were also seated at the table, I decided to go mingle with the other teachers, who seemed to be in a completely different world of joy and merriment. (This lone gesture would be the cause of all future drama surrounding this lady. No exaggeration.)
So I slide over to the "fun" table (quite literally, as we were all sitting on the floor, shoe-less), where my favorite/secret co-teacher is sitting, along with a few other (older) male teachers. As my co-teacher and I are chatting and enjoying the services, naturally, the men decide to join in on the conversation too (despite not actually speaking English). The computer teacher yells my name and suggests that we do a "love shot," and--as this is a purely "me, too" culture--then the music teacher suggests the same thing, followed by the teacher whom I affectionately refer to in my mind as "He Who Clicks," as, despite sitting next to him for months, I still lack any idea as to what it is that he teaches. In any case, he can always be found sitting stoically at his desk for extended periods of time clicking his mouse, slowly and methodically. (I guess I could just ask him what he teaches, but where's the fun in that??) So the laughter and "love shots" are flowing (saying "no" is considered deeply offensive), and all is good with the universe. Of course this didn't go unnoticed by Mr. S., who quickly came to make his presense known. He suggests that we do a shot (thankfully not of the "love" variety!), and then calls my name and yells that he is single. I smile and politely (always politely--these are some of the most sensitve humans on Earth) assert to him that he is, indeed, nothing of the sort. He then asserts, incredulously, that he is, and that he is actually "playboy," all the while patting his chest with both hands simultaneously. Seeing that ignoring his antics wasn't working, I then ask my co-teacher if Mr. S. is married, to which she replies with a straight face, "of course." So I just shake my head and pretend to be engulfed in eating cooked meat wrapped in leaves, hoping that he'll get bored and drop the subject, which he does. (In all honesty, I strongly believe that the fact that he remained so adamant about denying his marital status is rooted in a whole different issue unique to Korea called "weekend couples." It's too far off the subject to discuss here, but maybe I'll talk about it in a later post?) Naturally, as the jokes and flatteries are flowing, I spot Mrs. C. glaring over in my direction on several occasions, which I conveniently ignore. So goes the mingling and masticating, and alas, it's time to leave the restaurant.
The second phase of school dinner is the singing-room session, where a few private karaoke rooms are booked and filled with--yep, you guessed it--more alcohol. (Despite their love of public baths, Koreans are painfully shy when it comes to singing, speaking, or breathing in front other people, so the massive amounts of soju, makalee, and beer are as necessary as the very microphones used to sing!) So as we're walking to the singing room, Mrs. C. tells me that she felt "left out" while I was talking to my other co-teacher, all the while using the tone of a whiny three-year-old. Just as I am politely explaining to her the fact that it's not fair for me nor the other teachers for me to only talk to her all the time, someone yells my name and grabs my hand. Confused, I look up to see that it is none other than the very important man who presides over all of the school staff, third in rank (which is oh so important here) under the principal and vice principal. (Now not only does he not speak English, but he has probably been the least friendly of all the male staff since my arrival--very shy of course, but oftentimes pretending that I don't even exist!) So now I'm in a complete panic, as this is a culture where people don't even hug or shake hands as a form of greeting, and you NEVER touch someone who is your superior, ESPECIALLY if they are of the opposite sex (Translation: male). A few seconds pass, and I realize that he has no intentions of letting my hand go, and he is, instead, holding it and leading me in the direction of the singing room. Mortified and confused, I look around to see if there are any witnesses around to put an end to this awkwardness, and I spot Mrs. C., whose looks like she's just seen a ghost (as a woman and of lower rank, she was completely powerless to do anything about it), my favorite co-teacher (whose even more powerless) and, who but the very principal and vice-principal (the proverbial kings of the
So we get to our destination, and (thank goodness for narrow staircases!) I am finally able to let go of Mr. Closeted Cassanova's hand (without being impolite). I quickly find my secret/favorite co-teacher, and everyone's singing and mingling (except for Mrs. C., who is now seething with envy), and enjoying the night. It gets a little blury here, but at some point as I'm hopping from room to room and rapping along to (upon their request for me to sing, of course) songs like Nelly's "Shake a Tailfeather" and Sean Paul's "We Be Burnin" (Side note: What the heck was I thinking, choosing those songs???! Thank heavens those people didn't speak English! AHAHAHAHAHA!!), a few other male teachers (whom I had never met/seen?) pull me aside and decide to practice their English by engaging in very basic conversations. Of course they also want to toast to something like every half of a second, but by now I'm used to it. As I'm taking to one teacher--out of the blue--Mr. Closeted Cassanova (Mr. CC) walks over and sits next to me. He then proceeds to interrupt the talking teacher's sentence (in Korean), and says something like "go away now." The talking teacher looks surprised, and then continues to talk to me, and then Mr. CC hurls mean Korean sounds (hey, it is a tonal language, after all!) toward him and--get this--proceeds to frown and wave his hand in front of his face rapidly as though he is waving away a pesky mosquito on a hot summer night. The talking teacher, being the obedient Korean public servant that he is (no, really--that's what Korean teachers are referred to as), grabs "his" drink (maybe he simply picked up someone else's old drink, no way to tell really) and walks away like an embarrassed puppy literally with his head down and his tail between his legs (okay, so maybe the tail part isn't literal, but you get the point). He didn't look at me or come anywhere near me for the rest of the night. O.o Meanwhile, Mr. CC decides that he wants to "talk"...(Used lightly as he.doesn't.speak.English.) Yikes.
The remainder of the night goes on without as much fanfare as before. Mr. S is completely plastered (red face and all), and he has elected to use his turn to sing songs to me. (Maybe this is where he got the genius idea to sing Korean ballads to me later? I'll never know.) "He Who Clicks" is falling on his knees a lot (probably not a good look, on account of his oldness and all), and even through his inability to maintain his balance using only his own two legs (Why o why were humans cursed to be born with only two measely legs?? Tripods almost never lose their balance; surely there's something to be learned from them!), he retains his Korean-style, expressionless face. At some point Mrs. C, having had enough of my fraternizing, stormed off and left completely. (Though I can assure you, she wasn't missed.) At their request, I "sing" (Ha! I suck at singing!) one last song, choosing Sean Kingston's "Beautiful Girls" with no pun intended at all, and then, it's time (Speaking of, what time is it anyway??) to go home.
As I'm waving down a taxi to share with a nice teacher whom I'd never met (but who apparently is aware that we are "neighbors"), I'm told that, upon Mr. S.' request, they would like to continue drinking elsewhere. They explain that by Korean standards, it is still early, and that the party is, in fact, just beginning. Luckily for me, a taxi has appeared (we'd been waiting for a while), and I run toward it while yelling slurred good-byes, ready for it to whisk me far away to my apartment. (Turns out the nice lady wasn't as inebriated and confused as I thought--we were indeed only a 5 minute drive away from home. Imagine that!) I enter my apartment and prepare for work the next day. It's only Tuesday....
The next day, all of the male teachers act strange around me, and generally try to avoid making any eye-contact with me at all. All except Mr. S., of course, who has no shame. He waltzes over to me and tells me that he has a headache and makes gestures indicating a stomach ache, too. I nod in understanding, though I am feeling fine. Mr. CC generally looks flushed and ashamed, and when I finally run-into the principal and vice-principal, they are in such shock with not knowing how I would be reacting that when I greet them they just stare at me with wide eyes, afraid to say a word.
(This would all pass of course, and a few days later, Mr. CC pulled a move from Mr. S.' figurative playbook and stood in my path so that I would have to speak to him. I did so and smiled, as I continued to walk to class with Mrs. C. (who was still bitter, but containing it for now). After we had passed him, Mrs. C. looked back and began to laugh. When I asked her what was so funny, she said, "after you say hi to him, he is only looking up at the sky and smiling.")
We were indoors.
What's warm and wet and slimy all over?
It all started in a bar in an undisclosed beach town...
(Or maybe it started a few days before that, when my attempts to quell Mrs. C's infatuation finally came to a head, leading to an all-out disagreement in a culture where both disagreement and confrontation are shunned. I stopped short of saying, "You do not get to be obsesssed with me!", instead vying for the more diplomatically fool-proof "cultural differences" line. She didn't like that one bit, as openly acknowledging the fact that we are from different cultures calls attention to the fact that we are, indeed, different people, and that I was NOT, in fact, birthed from her body.)
Either way, I ended up in a city with a beach and far enough away from her smothering obsession. Despite being exhausted, I'm dancing the night away and having fun with my Korean female friend and her friend, who has just returned home to Korea after having lived in the States for something like 7 or 8 or 10 years. So time passes and it's some insanely late hour and I feel myself growing increasingly fatigued. I decide to sit down in the very crowded, chaotic bar in hopes getting my energy back and after a few minutes of resting. Although my intentions for this were far from literal, at some point I began to doze off. (Not in full, REM sleep, but merely a quick, recharging "nappette" if you will.) As I'm enjoying my "nappette," (all two minutes of it), I begin to become conscious of a strange sensation on the right side of my face, precisely in the region of my cheek and the corner of my mouth: warm, slow, and decidedly slimy. Realizing that it wasn't going away, and that it was in fact, migrating steadily closer to my lips, I open up my eyes to find a small, spectacle-wearing Korean man-boy licking the side of my face with the passion and intensity of romance novel, eyes closed, probably oblivious to the fact that my eyes were now open. Frozen speechless, confused, and still drowsy from having been asleep just 10 seconds ago, I go against my character 1000% and do....absolutely nothing. As luck would have it, my Korean friend had been keeping an eye out, and, upon seeing this, she immediately ran over and in one fluid motion, yelled at the offender (using Korean swear words, I'm sure, as she loves English ones!), pushed him away from me, and grabbed me up. He disappears at once, never to be seen (Ha! I couldn't pick the guy out of a line-up even if I tried!) or, umm...felt from again. (In such a polite culture, you would think that the guy would have at least left a tip?? Oh, wait, they don't tip here. Nevermind.) As for me, I'm now fully awake. "Dance floor!" I proclaim.
Something about having foreign saliva methodically slathered on your face being rather rejuvenating....Who knew?!
(Or maybe it started a few days before that, when my attempts to quell Mrs. C's infatuation finally came to a head, leading to an all-out disagreement in a culture where both disagreement and confrontation are shunned. I stopped short of saying, "You do not get to be obsesssed with me!", instead vying for the more diplomatically fool-proof "cultural differences" line. She didn't like that one bit, as openly acknowledging the fact that we are from different cultures calls attention to the fact that we are, indeed, different people, and that I was NOT, in fact, birthed from her body.)
Either way, I ended up in a city with a beach and far enough away from her smothering obsession. Despite being exhausted, I'm dancing the night away and having fun with my Korean female friend and her friend, who has just returned home to Korea after having lived in the States for something like 7 or 8 or 10 years. So time passes and it's some insanely late hour and I feel myself growing increasingly fatigued. I decide to sit down in the very crowded, chaotic bar in hopes getting my energy back and after a few minutes of resting. Although my intentions for this were far from literal, at some point I began to doze off. (Not in full, REM sleep, but merely a quick, recharging "nappette" if you will.) As I'm enjoying my "nappette," (all two minutes of it), I begin to become conscious of a strange sensation on the right side of my face, precisely in the region of my cheek and the corner of my mouth: warm, slow, and decidedly slimy. Realizing that it wasn't going away, and that it was in fact, migrating steadily closer to my lips, I open up my eyes to find a small, spectacle-wearing Korean man-boy licking the side of my face with the passion and intensity of romance novel, eyes closed, probably oblivious to the fact that my eyes were now open. Frozen speechless, confused, and still drowsy from having been asleep just 10 seconds ago, I go against my character 1000% and do....absolutely nothing. As luck would have it, my Korean friend had been keeping an eye out, and, upon seeing this, she immediately ran over and in one fluid motion, yelled at the offender (using Korean swear words, I'm sure, as she loves English ones!), pushed him away from me, and grabbed me up. He disappears at once, never to be seen (Ha! I couldn't pick the guy out of a line-up even if I tried!) or, umm...felt from again. (In such a polite culture, you would think that the guy would have at least left a tip?? Oh, wait, they don't tip here. Nevermind.) As for me, I'm now fully awake. "Dance floor!" I proclaim.
Something about having foreign saliva methodically slathered on your face being rather rejuvenating....Who knew?!
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Random (but Real!) Statements Made to Me...
(To be updated periodically..)
A fellow co-teacher and I are walking together and chatting, and I see Mr. S close behind. As we turn the corner, I intentionally speed up, so as to avoid having to come in direct contact. Being a man on a mission (and over 6 feet tall), he catches up to us AT THE EXACT moment that I am making a comment to my co-teacher that her habit of helping her farmer parents on the weekend is not "eccentric"--as she puts it--but "very cute." From behind me I suddenly hear him reply: "I.think.YOU.are.very.cute." My co-teacher laughs and, without turning around, I laugh nervously, mutter "thank you," and scurry towards my desk, grateful that it's Friday!
Adorable, young teacher to me: "You have egg-shape head. My head is like moon. I envy you."
Ah-ha! So somebody in this world thinks that having an egg-shaped head is worthy of envy! Wait until I tell my 6-year old nephew about this! :P
Mrs. C.: "Is it more common to say, 'period pain' or 'menstrual pain'?"
Me: O.O "Well....you can say either one."
Mrs. C.: (pauses) "Well, I have began taking Korean medicine herbs for menopause a few days ago. Three times per day"
Me: Wonders how my life will be improved as a result of learning such ground-breaking information. "Ooh...Um, so how are they working??"
Mrs. C.: "Oh, very well!" (smiles)
"Goodbye. I will miss you."
-Said by teeny, tiny, bald, important male figure at my school, in preparation for the coming three-day weekend. He then proceeded to reach down and stick his fingers inside of the small bag that contained the sandwich that I had been eating for lunch, and sniffed his fingers in an attempt to investigate its contents.
Very heavy student approaches me before class.
"Hello, teacher. Today, I have stomach ache. When I get home, I will take a big plop."
(Proceeds to make a physical gesture of the word "plop" by making a fist and then allowing her hand to go limp.)
Why oh why must I be so cursed as to be born with such a VISUAL mind??? O.o
Mr. S talks to Mrs. C in Korean about everything that we could do on a date. Thankfully, she doesn't translate this time, but unfortunately, I now understand...
Two weeks later...
My co-teacher and I are walking from class, chatting. Mr. S suddenly appears behind us, speaking to said co-teacher in Korean about how pretty/stylish I am. Being the innocent soul that she is, she dutifully translates. Without looking back, I smile nervously, say "thank you," and proceed to speed walk so as to get away from this very annoying man. Dude, you've told me these things in both English and Korean at least 100 times since my arrival. Go awaaaaaaaayyyyyyy.
"Many students have dyed their hair from black to dark brown during summer vacation, but they will have to dye it back or they will get into trouble, because they must all look similar for school uniform."
-Co-teacher. Why even bother having me try to memorize individual names??
"I am worried about my face!!"
-Multiple students' responses after I asked them what their biggest worries were, in reference to the topic of the lesson for that day.
Sirens sound.
Mrs. C: "This is an alarm for us to learn what to do if there is an attack on Korea. It is very likely that if Korea is attacked, it will happen here." Smiles.
Me: O.O
Mrs. C. continues to chat gaily about the weather, completely ignoring the announcement. The students talk amongst themselves, completely apathetic.
Me: "Shouldn't we be listening to the instructions??? What do we do if there's an attack??? "
Mrs. C.: Laughs. "Oh, nooo. Even if it is in Korean, I am not paying attention." Giggles.
Me: But what about the evac...u...ation... inst....ruct...ions....
"You're ugly."
-Okay, so maybe this wasn't said to me, but it was, however, said to a fellow foreigner with whom I was working at a program for kids. As she was saying goodbye, this was the response that she received from one of the boys as he looked her square in the eyes. The fact that said foreigner is also physically incapable of producing tears makes this all the more sad..
Leaning toward me and whispering: "Frankly speaking, I.don't.give.a.s**t." (Blushes.) "I'm so sorry for saying that!"
-My favorite co-teacher, in reference to a random attack on her launched by Mrs. C. When we met, I told her that she was free to admit her real feelings to me, rather than simply pretending to always be okay, as her culture dictates. Oops!
"I never go to the beach because skin is black with sun. Only stay inside."
-A student, in response to my inquiry about her going to the beach on the weekends. This thinking probably explains the fact that Korean children on the whole have very weak bones, and an abnormal amount of Korean children and adults wear glasses. No sun=no vitamin D!
(Update: this same student recently told me that she went to the beach for summer vacation. Guess she got bored sitting at home!)
Mr.S walks around in a circle, clearly trying to get my attention. I concentrate as hard as possible on reading the unimportant information on my computer screen, so that he'll go away. Fake concentration attempt succeeds, and he walks away slowly. The next day he comes back, more determined. Sits down at the temporarily empty desk next to me, and begins to strike up a CONVERSATION. (A very simple conversation, but a conversation, no less. Yep, he's beginning to learn English, nooooooooo!!!) In his English studies, he's learned some very, uh, interesting phrases. He tells me that he's tired from drinking everyday as a hobby, and then asks me to go on a date with him on Sunday to drink and climb a mountain. Since I can no longer pretend not to understand his advances, I smile nervously, thank him for the offer (so as not to lose face), and tell him that I'm busy on Sunday. (Whether or not I actually am being completely irrelevant!) He smiles and says that it's "okay, because maybe Sunday will rain." I agree eagerly, and then suggest that he try reading books as a new hobby....Yiiiikkkkeeess!
Student: "Teacher, you're very beautiful," (At this point I just smile and shake my head. The level of vanity here FAR surpasses anything I've seen anywhere--including Latin American countries.) "Do you think that Ahseeahn girls are beautiful?"
Me: "Ahseeahn? I don't understand."
Student: "You know, Ahseeahn girls." Student proceeds to pull the corner of her eyes back, then up, then down. "Chinese, Japanese, Korean people."
Me: "Ooooh, Asian girls!" My eyes light up at the opportunity to, alas, give my all-nationalities-are-beautiful-despite-being-different speech. " Students smile with relief.
Different student: "Oh no, I already change my eyes!?"
Me, playfully: "It's okay, but no more surgery on your face, okay?"
I'm not sure if my words will actually deter her, or the other students in that class, from undergoing more cosmetic surgery in the future, but I'm estatic that my opinion was finally solicited by the students on the subject. Sadly, I've met Korean women on multiple occassions (my favorite co-teacher included), who, upon receiving my compliments about their individual beauty, have looked at me with a shocked/sad expression and told me that NO ONE has ever told them that they were attractive. (Interestingly enough, none of the women had ever had cosmetic surgery.) Many of them said that, on the contrary, they were actually told repeatedly that they were ugly, namely by their close family members. Heavy stuff...
Me, cheerfully: "How are you today, class?"
Student: "Teacher, I want DIE!"
Me, thinking about the outrageously high suicide rate here and worried: "Why??"
Student: "Because weather is cloudy today. I WANT DIE!!"
Me, reassuringly: "I'm sure the sun will be out again tomorrow, so you don't need to die!" Smile.
Student: Stares at me blankly and shakes her head slowly, as though I am missing the point.
Mrs. C.: "The weather is very nice today."
Me: "Yes, it is."
Mrs. C.: "I know that you like warm weather."
Me: "Yes, I do."
(10 second pause)
Mrs. C.: "Constipation is the opposite of diarrhea, right?"
Me: (pause) "Yes."
(10 second pause)
Mrs. C.: "Well, you know, lately I've been having some problems with constipation for the last two weeks. I really try and try--"
Me: "Ummm, I'm going to teach you three letters that we use in the United States during situations like this one: TMI."
(I give a thorough explanation of the meaning and use of the phrase and acronym.)
Mrs. C. laughs. "Oh, I see. I am so ashamed. But as you know it is very common to talk about that in Korea."
Me: "I know, but I am not interested in talking about those things, and in the U.S., it is not a common conversation starter. You don't have to be ashamed; you didn't know."
Mrs. C: "Really?? I see..."
Me: O.O "Today's lesson is about food. I like food."
Spoken to me in English: "Let's take a birthday picture!"
Spoken to the Korean teachers, in Korean: "Many people in the United States will think that I am her boyfriend in this picture!"
-A random male Korean teacher whom at first sight looked almost, half-way, sort of, nearly, kind of like a Korean version of Tyson Beckford. Then I caught him at his true angle and his body suddenly took the form of an old, widowed, Russian dairy farmer/ bearer of 30 live births.
"Today is your birthday?? Congratulations!!!"
-Various teachers
"YouTube do.you.want.DIE???!"
-A female student who was a little upset with the fact that YouTube wasn't loading fast enough. When it comes to technology, Koreans don't mess around!!
"Teacher, what are you DOING??!"
Me: "I'm writing the names of your teams on the board."
Student, pleadingly: "Teacher, PLEASE do not use the color red pen to write my name on the board!!"
Me: ???? "What's the problem with red?"
Student: "In Korea, if you write a name in red then the person will DIE!"
I look around to see the affirmative nods of the entire class, including the Korean co-teacher.
Me: "Okay, I understand. So what does writing in blue or black ink mean?"
Students and co-teacher laugh as though thoroughly amused. "Teacher, it means nothing. It is only a pen color."
Student with whom I'm very familiar attempts to place her tea-filled water bottle against my lips. I smile and politely decline.
Student gets annoyed: "OH MY GOD, TEACHER! WHY??"
Me: "Because I am not thirsty right now, but thank you!" Smile.
Student replies, angrily : "Oh my GOD!!!" Stares at me in utter angst and disbelief.
This happens all.the.time. SO much that, most times when some student, or teacher, or random person at the bus stop (not uncommon!) hands me any sort of food I just smile, eat it, and pass the buck to my immune system and God. Koreans get really upset when a person refuses a gift, especially food, given the fact that they were all farmers like 20 years ago ( actually, they prefer not to be told "no" in general), and rather than offend or hurt any feelings (everything is internalized--it can never be that you're really just not hungry at the moment), I just take it. (Now you see the significance of my "Seriousness of Sharing" post. Saying "no" to a well-meaning Korean is no easy task!)
"Teacher, your face is very small!!"
Me: "Ummmm, thanks??"
(I quickly realized that this is considered a HUGE compliment here, as the Korean standard of beauty is "Western" to a point of exaggeration. They all want " the beeg eye, and small pace," or, big eyes and a small face, and it is a prerequisite for beauty, as explained to me by multiple young and middle-aged women. Plastic surgery here is akin to going to the dentist to get a cavity filled. Of course I initially attempted to challenge this thinking, but I soon realized that it was causing more harm than good. Now, I just respond, simply, "I like your face, too" or "Your eyes are also beautiful, without double eyelids." Then I RUN, fast, so as to avoid the inevitable argument about how misplaced my compliments towards them are!)
"I want to go to the United States, but I am very scared, because the news says that Americans have many guns everywhere, so I do not want to get shot."
-A middle-aged man with whom I was conversing.
Well, there you have it, folks...
"My son is easily humiliated."
-My favorite co-teacher, in reference to her 5 year-old son. Me: "Noooooo! Lady, please, please, pleeease STOP conditioning your children to be so easily 'humiliated,' lest anyone who ever encounters them as adults have to walk on perpetual eggshells so as to avoid hurting their feelings, a.k.a losing 'face'!!"
Okay, so I didn't really say that, but oh how I wanted to!
"Drink and DIE!!!"
Nope, not a public service announcement, nor an insult. Just something that a new Korean girl (with excellent English) that I met said to me within 5 minutes of my meeting her.
(Yeah...I think I'm just gonna stick with the good, old-fashioned "Carpe Diem." Thanks though!)
Student interrupts lesson: "Teacher, OH MY GOD!!"
I stop teaching and swirl around to face student: "What's wrong??"
Student, looking with eyes wide open: "Your HEAD is so SMALL!?"
I look confused, and slowly begin to examine my head with my hands. With a straight face, I reply: "Oookay. What does that mean?"
Student angrily replies: "Oh my God, I want small head. My head is so beeg!"
I smile, sigh and tell her that her head is fine. She argues that it is indeed, not. I resume my explanation of the future tense..
(For the record, my head has NEVER been referred to as small. Ever. Ever. Ever.)
I am having an enjoyable (not so easy to come by!) conversation with my "secret" co-teacher (see other post, A Tale of Two Obsessions). She abruptly stops speaking and starts smiling from ear-to-ear. I notice that she is no longer looking me in the eyes, but looking above my eyes.
Me: "What's wrong??"
Her: "You have a quite good forehead. In Korean culture foreheads are important. My mother says that a woman's forehead is her most important feature. My forehead is not good, only so-so. My daughter's forehead protrudes, and my son is only 5 but he tells her that she looks strange. This means that you are lucky."
Me: O.o
Large group of students are huddling in the shade under a very small tree during an emergency drill. I ask what they are attempting to hide from.
Student screams, "Ahh, because teacher, I hate black skin! No, white skin, white skin, I LOVE YOOOU!!" (Calms down.) "But black skin, very SEXY" and proceeds to make a gesture of a woman with an hour-glass figure, followed by a thumbs-up gesture in my direction.
Me: O.o
While attending one of the infamous Korean school dinners, I notice that everyone is getting what the youngins in the States would call, ahem...wasted. Suddenly, Mr. S (see "A Tale of Two Obsessions" post) yells my name, pats his chest rapidly and says, "I am single!"
Me, embarassed: "You are not single."
Mr. S.: "Yes, I am!!"
Mr. S' superior (the same man who smiled as Mr. S. sang to me): "He is playboy. And I am playboy."
Me: Instinctively bury my face in my co-teachers jacket, the only place where I feel safe..
(Same school dinner.)
Random male teacher yells my name: "Hey! Let's do love shot!"
(Love shot=twisting your arm around another person's prior to drinking.)
Mr. S' superior whispers: "I want you to stay in Korean forever, and I can help you."
Mrs. C (if you haven't already, just read "A Tale of Two Obsessions" already! lol) attempts to call me early on a Saturday morning while I am sleeping in. I call her back later to inquire about her motive for calling me.
Mrs. C.: "Hiiiiiiii."
Me: "You called me earlier?"
Mrs. C.: "Oh, yes, but you didn't answer, and I am very sad."
Me: "Oh yeah. I was unavailable at the time. Do you need something?"
Mrs. C. laughs. "Noo, I only called because I was thinking about you as I took a walk along the riverside. It always makes me think about you."
Me: "Really? That's very nice, but why? We have never taken a walk along the riverside together?"
Mrs. C. laughs. "I always think about you."
Me: O.O
After the what happened at the infamous school dinner (other post), we have a staff picnic. Mr. S' superior gestures toward his own boss, another important (male) figure in the school (This is Mr. CC!!) who, at the moment, is handing me a cucumber slice dipped in red pepper paste, and says, "He's hot. He's hot for you!" Important male figure smiles shyly and walks away. This "woman of color" is now color-less.
Me: Whistling (so as to avoid having to actually converse while walking)
Mrs. C., dreamily: "When you whistle, you sound like a little bird..."
Me: O.o (I'm not even that good a whistler...)
"I think that you have many talents. Because you are good at whistling and riding bike."
-Mrs. C.
I compliment a young, cute teacher on her hair, which really does look nice. (Nothing fancy, of course. Simple blow-out).
Her: Laughs hysterically, covers her mouth and points toward me, mockingly. (Speaks next to no English.)
Me: ??????
Her: "I think you need glasses! My hair is FAIL!" Proceeds to laugh hysterically as though something is wrong with me.
Me: O.o ???????
A fellow co-teacher and I are walking together and chatting, and I see Mr. S close behind. As we turn the corner, I intentionally speed up, so as to avoid having to come in direct contact. Being a man on a mission (and over 6 feet tall), he catches up to us AT THE EXACT moment that I am making a comment to my co-teacher that her habit of helping her farmer parents on the weekend is not "eccentric"--as she puts it--but "very cute." From behind me I suddenly hear him reply: "I.think.YOU.are.very.cute." My co-teacher laughs and, without turning around, I laugh nervously, mutter "thank you," and scurry towards my desk, grateful that it's Friday!
Adorable, young teacher to me: "You have egg-shape head. My head is like moon. I envy you."
Ah-ha! So somebody in this world thinks that having an egg-shaped head is worthy of envy! Wait until I tell my 6-year old nephew about this! :P
Mrs. C.: "Is it more common to say, 'period pain' or 'menstrual pain'?"
Me: O.O "Well....you can say either one."
Mrs. C.: (pauses) "Well, I have began taking Korean medicine herbs for menopause a few days ago. Three times per day"
Me: Wonders how my life will be improved as a result of learning such ground-breaking information. "Ooh...Um, so how are they working??"
Mrs. C.: "Oh, very well!" (smiles)
"Goodbye. I will miss you."
-Said by teeny, tiny, bald, important male figure at my school, in preparation for the coming three-day weekend. He then proceeded to reach down and stick his fingers inside of the small bag that contained the sandwich that I had been eating for lunch, and sniffed his fingers in an attempt to investigate its contents.
Very heavy student approaches me before class.
"Hello, teacher. Today, I have stomach ache. When I get home, I will take a big plop."
(Proceeds to make a physical gesture of the word "plop" by making a fist and then allowing her hand to go limp.)
Why oh why must I be so cursed as to be born with such a VISUAL mind??? O.o
Mr. S talks to Mrs. C in Korean about everything that we could do on a date. Thankfully, she doesn't translate this time, but unfortunately, I now understand...
Two weeks later...
My co-teacher and I are walking from class, chatting. Mr. S suddenly appears behind us, speaking to said co-teacher in Korean about how pretty/stylish I am. Being the innocent soul that she is, she dutifully translates. Without looking back, I smile nervously, say "thank you," and proceed to speed walk so as to get away from this very annoying man. Dude, you've told me these things in both English and Korean at least 100 times since my arrival. Go awaaaaaaaayyyyyyy.
"Many students have dyed their hair from black to dark brown during summer vacation, but they will have to dye it back or they will get into trouble, because they must all look similar for school uniform."
-Co-teacher. Why even bother having me try to memorize individual names??
"I am worried about my face!!"
-Multiple students' responses after I asked them what their biggest worries were, in reference to the topic of the lesson for that day.
Sirens sound.
Mrs. C: "This is an alarm for us to learn what to do if there is an attack on Korea. It is very likely that if Korea is attacked, it will happen here." Smiles.
Me: O.O
Mrs. C. continues to chat gaily about the weather, completely ignoring the announcement. The students talk amongst themselves, completely apathetic.
Me: "Shouldn't we be listening to the instructions??? What do we do if there's an attack??? "
Mrs. C.: Laughs. "Oh, nooo. Even if it is in Korean, I am not paying attention." Giggles.
Me: But what about the evac...u...ation... inst....ruct...ions....
"You're ugly."
-Okay, so maybe this wasn't said to me, but it was, however, said to a fellow foreigner with whom I was working at a program for kids. As she was saying goodbye, this was the response that she received from one of the boys as he looked her square in the eyes. The fact that said foreigner is also physically incapable of producing tears makes this all the more sad..
Leaning toward me and whispering: "Frankly speaking, I.don't.give.a.s**t." (Blushes.) "I'm so sorry for saying that!"
-My favorite co-teacher, in reference to a random attack on her launched by Mrs. C. When we met, I told her that she was free to admit her real feelings to me, rather than simply pretending to always be okay, as her culture dictates. Oops!
"I never go to the beach because skin is black with sun. Only stay inside."
-A student, in response to my inquiry about her going to the beach on the weekends. This thinking probably explains the fact that Korean children on the whole have very weak bones, and an abnormal amount of Korean children and adults wear glasses. No sun=no vitamin D!
(Update: this same student recently told me that she went to the beach for summer vacation. Guess she got bored sitting at home!)
Mr.S walks around in a circle, clearly trying to get my attention. I concentrate as hard as possible on reading the unimportant information on my computer screen, so that he'll go away. Fake concentration attempt succeeds, and he walks away slowly. The next day he comes back, more determined. Sits down at the temporarily empty desk next to me, and begins to strike up a CONVERSATION. (A very simple conversation, but a conversation, no less. Yep, he's beginning to learn English, nooooooooo!!!) In his English studies, he's learned some very, uh, interesting phrases. He tells me that he's tired from drinking everyday as a hobby, and then asks me to go on a date with him on Sunday to drink and climb a mountain. Since I can no longer pretend not to understand his advances, I smile nervously, thank him for the offer (so as not to lose face), and tell him that I'm busy on Sunday. (Whether or not I actually am being completely irrelevant!) He smiles and says that it's "okay, because maybe Sunday will rain." I agree eagerly, and then suggest that he try reading books as a new hobby....Yiiiikkkkeeess!
Student: "Teacher, you're very beautiful," (At this point I just smile and shake my head. The level of vanity here FAR surpasses anything I've seen anywhere--including Latin American countries.) "Do you think that Ahseeahn girls are beautiful?"
Me: "Ahseeahn? I don't understand."
Student: "You know, Ahseeahn girls." Student proceeds to pull the corner of her eyes back, then up, then down. "Chinese, Japanese, Korean people."
Me: "Ooooh, Asian girls!" My eyes light up at the opportunity to, alas, give my all-nationalities-are-beautiful-despite-being-different speech. " Students smile with relief.
Different student: "Oh no, I already change my eyes!?"
Me, playfully: "It's okay, but no more surgery on your face, okay?"
I'm not sure if my words will actually deter her, or the other students in that class, from undergoing more cosmetic surgery in the future, but I'm estatic that my opinion was finally solicited by the students on the subject. Sadly, I've met Korean women on multiple occassions (my favorite co-teacher included), who, upon receiving my compliments about their individual beauty, have looked at me with a shocked/sad expression and told me that NO ONE has ever told them that they were attractive. (Interestingly enough, none of the women had ever had cosmetic surgery.) Many of them said that, on the contrary, they were actually told repeatedly that they were ugly, namely by their close family members. Heavy stuff...
Me, cheerfully: "How are you today, class?"
Student: "Teacher, I want DIE!"
Me, thinking about the outrageously high suicide rate here and worried: "Why??"
Student: "Because weather is cloudy today. I WANT DIE!!"
Me, reassuringly: "I'm sure the sun will be out again tomorrow, so you don't need to die!" Smile.
Student: Stares at me blankly and shakes her head slowly, as though I am missing the point.
Mrs. C.: "The weather is very nice today."
Me: "Yes, it is."
Mrs. C.: "I know that you like warm weather."
Me: "Yes, I do."
(10 second pause)
Mrs. C.: "Constipation is the opposite of diarrhea, right?"
Me: (pause) "Yes."
(10 second pause)
Mrs. C.: "Well, you know, lately I've been having some problems with constipation for the last two weeks. I really try and try--"
Me: "Ummm, I'm going to teach you three letters that we use in the United States during situations like this one: TMI."
(I give a thorough explanation of the meaning and use of the phrase and acronym.)
Mrs. C. laughs. "Oh, I see. I am so ashamed. But as you know it is very common to talk about that in Korea."
Me: "I know, but I am not interested in talking about those things, and in the U.S., it is not a common conversation starter. You don't have to be ashamed; you didn't know."
Mrs. C: "Really?? I see..."
Me: O.O "Today's lesson is about food. I like food."
Spoken to me in English: "Let's take a birthday picture!"
Spoken to the Korean teachers, in Korean: "Many people in the United States will think that I am her boyfriend in this picture!"
-A random male Korean teacher whom at first sight looked almost, half-way, sort of, nearly, kind of like a Korean version of Tyson Beckford. Then I caught him at his true angle and his body suddenly took the form of an old, widowed, Russian dairy farmer/ bearer of 30 live births.
"Today is your birthday?? Congratulations!!!"
-Various teachers
"YouTube do.you.want.DIE???!"
-A female student who was a little upset with the fact that YouTube wasn't loading fast enough. When it comes to technology, Koreans don't mess around!!
"Teacher, what are you DOING??!"
Me: "I'm writing the names of your teams on the board."
Student, pleadingly: "Teacher, PLEASE do not use the color red pen to write my name on the board!!"
Me: ???? "What's the problem with red?"
Student: "In Korea, if you write a name in red then the person will DIE!"
I look around to see the affirmative nods of the entire class, including the Korean co-teacher.
Me: "Okay, I understand. So what does writing in blue or black ink mean?"
Students and co-teacher laugh as though thoroughly amused. "Teacher, it means nothing. It is only a pen color."
Student with whom I'm very familiar attempts to place her tea-filled water bottle against my lips. I smile and politely decline.
Student gets annoyed: "OH MY GOD, TEACHER! WHY??"
Me: "Because I am not thirsty right now, but thank you!" Smile.
Student replies, angrily : "Oh my GOD!!!" Stares at me in utter angst and disbelief.
This happens all.the.time. SO much that, most times when some student, or teacher, or random person at the bus stop (not uncommon!) hands me any sort of food I just smile, eat it, and pass the buck to my immune system and God. Koreans get really upset when a person refuses a gift, especially food, given the fact that they were all farmers like 20 years ago ( actually, they prefer not to be told "no" in general), and rather than offend or hurt any feelings (everything is internalized--it can never be that you're really just not hungry at the moment), I just take it. (Now you see the significance of my "Seriousness of Sharing" post. Saying "no" to a well-meaning Korean is no easy task!)
"Teacher, your face is very small!!"
Me: "Ummmm, thanks??"
(I quickly realized that this is considered a HUGE compliment here, as the Korean standard of beauty is "Western" to a point of exaggeration. They all want " the beeg eye, and small pace," or, big eyes and a small face, and it is a prerequisite for beauty, as explained to me by multiple young and middle-aged women. Plastic surgery here is akin to going to the dentist to get a cavity filled. Of course I initially attempted to challenge this thinking, but I soon realized that it was causing more harm than good. Now, I just respond, simply, "I like your face, too" or "Your eyes are also beautiful, without double eyelids." Then I RUN, fast, so as to avoid the inevitable argument about how misplaced my compliments towards them are!)
"I want to go to the United States, but I am very scared, because the news says that Americans have many guns everywhere, so I do not want to get shot."
-A middle-aged man with whom I was conversing.
Well, there you have it, folks...
"My son is easily humiliated."
-My favorite co-teacher, in reference to her 5 year-old son. Me: "Noooooo! Lady, please, please, pleeease STOP conditioning your children to be so easily 'humiliated,' lest anyone who ever encounters them as adults have to walk on perpetual eggshells so as to avoid hurting their feelings, a.k.a losing 'face'!!"
Okay, so I didn't really say that, but oh how I wanted to!
"Drink and DIE!!!"
Nope, not a public service announcement, nor an insult. Just something that a new Korean girl (with excellent English) that I met said to me within 5 minutes of my meeting her.
(Yeah...I think I'm just gonna stick with the good, old-fashioned "Carpe Diem." Thanks though!)
Student interrupts lesson: "Teacher, OH MY GOD!!"
I stop teaching and swirl around to face student: "What's wrong??"
Student, looking with eyes wide open: "Your HEAD is so SMALL!?"
I look confused, and slowly begin to examine my head with my hands. With a straight face, I reply: "Oookay. What does that mean?"
Student angrily replies: "Oh my God, I want small head. My head is so beeg!"
I smile, sigh and tell her that her head is fine. She argues that it is indeed, not. I resume my explanation of the future tense..
(For the record, my head has NEVER been referred to as small. Ever. Ever. Ever.)
I am having an enjoyable (not so easy to come by!) conversation with my "secret" co-teacher (see other post, A Tale of Two Obsessions). She abruptly stops speaking and starts smiling from ear-to-ear. I notice that she is no longer looking me in the eyes, but looking above my eyes.
Me: "What's wrong??"
Her: "You have a quite good forehead. In Korean culture foreheads are important. My mother says that a woman's forehead is her most important feature. My forehead is not good, only so-so. My daughter's forehead protrudes, and my son is only 5 but he tells her that she looks strange. This means that you are lucky."
Me: O.o
Large group of students are huddling in the shade under a very small tree during an emergency drill. I ask what they are attempting to hide from.
Student screams, "Ahh, because teacher, I hate black skin! No, white skin, white skin, I LOVE YOOOU!!" (Calms down.) "But black skin, very SEXY" and proceeds to make a gesture of a woman with an hour-glass figure, followed by a thumbs-up gesture in my direction.
Me: O.o
While attending one of the infamous Korean school dinners, I notice that everyone is getting what the youngins in the States would call, ahem...wasted. Suddenly, Mr. S (see "A Tale of Two Obsessions" post) yells my name, pats his chest rapidly and says, "I am single!"
Me, embarassed: "You are not single."
Mr. S.: "Yes, I am!!"
Mr. S' superior (the same man who smiled as Mr. S. sang to me): "He is playboy. And I am playboy."
Me: Instinctively bury my face in my co-teachers jacket, the only place where I feel safe..
(Same school dinner.)
Random male teacher yells my name: "Hey! Let's do love shot!"
(Love shot=twisting your arm around another person's prior to drinking.)
Mr. S' superior whispers: "I want you to stay in Korean forever, and I can help you."
Mrs. C (if you haven't already, just read "A Tale of Two Obsessions" already! lol) attempts to call me early on a Saturday morning while I am sleeping in. I call her back later to inquire about her motive for calling me.
Mrs. C.: "Hiiiiiiii."
Me: "You called me earlier?"
Mrs. C.: "Oh, yes, but you didn't answer, and I am very sad."
Me: "Oh yeah. I was unavailable at the time. Do you need something?"
Mrs. C. laughs. "Noo, I only called because I was thinking about you as I took a walk along the riverside. It always makes me think about you."
Me: "Really? That's very nice, but why? We have never taken a walk along the riverside together?"
Mrs. C. laughs. "I always think about you."
Me: O.O
After the what happened at the infamous school dinner (other post), we have a staff picnic. Mr. S' superior gestures toward his own boss, another important (male) figure in the school (This is Mr. CC!!) who, at the moment, is handing me a cucumber slice dipped in red pepper paste, and says, "He's hot. He's hot for you!" Important male figure smiles shyly and walks away. This "woman of color" is now color-less.
Me: Whistling (so as to avoid having to actually converse while walking)
Mrs. C., dreamily: "When you whistle, you sound like a little bird..."
Me: O.o (I'm not even that good a whistler...)
"I think that you have many talents. Because you are good at whistling and riding bike."
-Mrs. C.
I compliment a young, cute teacher on her hair, which really does look nice. (Nothing fancy, of course. Simple blow-out).
Her: Laughs hysterically, covers her mouth and points toward me, mockingly. (Speaks next to no English.)
Me: ??????
Her: "I think you need glasses! My hair is FAIL!" Proceeds to laugh hysterically as though something is wrong with me.
Me: O.o ???????
A Tale of Two Obsessions...
Given that Korea is easily one of the least culturally diverse countries in the world (they boast about the fact that they're "one race"), I was slightly unnerved at how I would be received as a woman of color. After asking a few people and doing some research, I got somewhat conflicting information about: (A) How Koreans feel about people of color; (B) How Koreans who inhabit smaller cities (such as where I would be residing) view people of color, and (C) How I would be treated as a result. After actually arriving however...Well, let's just say that my experience has been quite the surprise.
When I originally arrived (on a weekend), I wandered the streets without incident. I experienced no overt (and I would even argue covert, as Koreans generally aren't interested in hiding their true feelings about a person) disgust with my presence, and it was almost as though I was so different that no one cared. (Aside from the occasional kids and old ladies who wanted to say "hello" and have their pictures taken with me, mind you.) Of course I was elated, and I quickily relayed this information to my friends back home, and entered my new workplace with all the positivity of a newly-born unicorn. That's when things started to get interesting.
You see, while random passers-by on the crowded streets pretended to be impervious to my presence (yep, I soon figured that out), the entire staff was instantly in complete awe at my existence. While initially overwhelming for me, I treated it as a minor thing, as I had been told that being a foreigner in South Korea meant ample attention (shutters). So what every single teacher (despite their actual ability to speak English, in which case, they suddenly started learning English!) wanted to have lunch with me and take me out to dinner? I should just be happy that they're so welcoming! Well, given their competitive nature, and the very blatant fact that I am, still, only one person, certain characters who felt that since they were at the top of the food chain began to feel as though I should only be spending my time with them, and thus, limiting my time with the other staff members who wanted to get to know me. Enter "Mrs. C." and "Mr. S."...
"Mrs. C" (completely made-up name, of course), you see, is my main co-teacher. She's about 50 years old, and from what I could tell initially, she was one of the sweetest ladies that I had ever encountered. She went above and beyond the parameters of her position to accomodate me, and for this I ameternally (well, maybe not eternally) very grateful. So life was all sunshine and smiles until she noticed that other teachers had also taken an interest in getting to know me. Once she saw that I had began to form close relationships with other teachers (and thus couldn't dedicate all of my spare time (this includes weekends) to being with her, she declared an all-out war against all parties involved. Literally overnight, I had gone from being an excellent teacher to a horrible one. If the offending teacher was one of her subordinates (hierarchy reigns here), then they were subjected to constant criticism and general negativity. My conversations with said teachers were rudely interrupted by her. Teachers who did not speak English well (or really, at all) were told, "you don't speak English" in an attempt to humiliate and deter them from communicating with me. After mentioning to ALL of my co-teachers the fact that our computer had been broken for weeks, one person finally had it repaired. Upon discovering this, she said,"but that's MY job. I will have it repaired again." One day I came to work, and she presented me with a pair of earrings that she had purchased for herself four years prior while visiting Australia. When I assured her that she didn't need to keep giving me things, especially not her prized Australian accessory, she replied in a dreamy tone, "But I knew from the moment that I saw you that I wanted to give these earrings to you. You're perfect..." Yiiiiiiiikkkkeeees, lady. She then launched into a soliloquy about how she was unable to bear children (definitely difficult to swallow in Korean culture), and how she and her husband kept trying and trying and trying--LADY! Spare me the visuals, please! And how she thinks (so of course, ALL Korean women must all also think the same thing) that adopting children is bad luck, because a monk told her so. She then said that there are strange people in every culture (referencing herself, of course), and alluded to the fact that since she couldn't conceive children of her own, she thinks that I was sent here to be her "child." Once, when I was caught laughing and chatting excessively with a fellow co-teacher, she waited until later that night and called me to say that she felt left out (uuummm perhaps that's because the conversation didn't involve you!) and that I had to "choose between the two of them." (That teacher and I have now decided to hide our friendship and plan secret meetings. Sigh.) The stories about this lady abound, but for the sake of my sanity, let's move on to "Mr. S.," shall we?
"Mr. S" is also a staff member. What exactly it is that he does remains a mystery to me, largely due to the fact that: A) professional titles are very inflated here, and B) everyone has multiple titles. (So that means that everyone is the "head of" something, and the school accountant will also be in charge of sweeping the gym, preparing the meals, and tuning the musical instruments, among other things.) All I know is that he deals directly with the students (Head of Students, perhaps?). Well he and Mrs. C are alike in that both have taken an extreme liking to me. His portfolio: complimenting me daily, even if there's nothing to compliment ("You, woooow." English ability next to none, by the way.); making his presence known (Read: leaving his desk and walking all the way to the other side of our very large shared work room) whenever another male staff member attempts to converse with me; telling me (in Korean and around other teachers, mind you) that we should go drink Korean rice wine together on a rainy day (Never mind the fact that we can't communicate!); getting inebriated at a school dinner (soooo much more on this in a later post! But drinking is synonymous with work here.) and proclaiming to be "single" and "a playboy" (the former is not true, don't know about the latter); knowing that I was sick even before I knew it myself after having studied me (umm, clearly!) intensely during the first 3 months that I had lived here (CrEeEePy!!!); singing a ballad (in front of Mrs. C. and one of his bosses--male, no doubt) in Korean about how beautiful/pretty/cute I am, while I died of embarassment and they laughed and smiled with admiration; realizing that I had been avoiding him, and subsequently conspiring with Mrs. C. to treat me to lunch, despite the fact that I had declined the offer. (When we got to the restaurant, the entire.conversation.consisted.of.the.two.of.them.complimenting.me, in two languages! BoRiNg. At some point they even asked what type of man I liked, with Mrs. C. even gesturing toward Mr. S. and saying, "he's very handsome, right?")
Despite not being at the top of the food chain, this guy gets away with murder, and his antics are usually praised! Why??? My guess is that because in this EXTREMELY image-conscious and male-dominated culture, he's considered an idol. Tall, attractive, and charismatic, and male. So with all these things, he's free to be "worried about me even though he's married," as one of my co-teachers (who's an older lady!?) giggled and told me one day. Why even translate that??
When I originally arrived (on a weekend), I wandered the streets without incident. I experienced no overt (and I would even argue covert, as Koreans generally aren't interested in hiding their true feelings about a person) disgust with my presence, and it was almost as though I was so different that no one cared. (Aside from the occasional kids and old ladies who wanted to say "hello" and have their pictures taken with me, mind you.) Of course I was elated, and I quickily relayed this information to my friends back home, and entered my new workplace with all the positivity of a newly-born unicorn. That's when things started to get interesting.
You see, while random passers-by on the crowded streets pretended to be impervious to my presence (yep, I soon figured that out), the entire staff was instantly in complete awe at my existence. While initially overwhelming for me, I treated it as a minor thing, as I had been told that being a foreigner in South Korea meant ample attention (shutters). So what every single teacher (despite their actual ability to speak English, in which case, they suddenly started learning English!) wanted to have lunch with me and take me out to dinner? I should just be happy that they're so welcoming! Well, given their competitive nature, and the very blatant fact that I am, still, only one person, certain characters who felt that since they were at the top of the food chain began to feel as though I should only be spending my time with them, and thus, limiting my time with the other staff members who wanted to get to know me. Enter "Mrs. C." and "Mr. S."...
"Mrs. C" (completely made-up name, of course), you see, is my main co-teacher. She's about 50 years old, and from what I could tell initially, she was one of the sweetest ladies that I had ever encountered. She went above and beyond the parameters of her position to accomodate me, and for this I am
"Mr. S" is also a staff member. What exactly it is that he does remains a mystery to me, largely due to the fact that: A) professional titles are very inflated here, and B) everyone has multiple titles. (So that means that everyone is the "head of" something, and the school accountant will also be in charge of sweeping the gym, preparing the meals, and tuning the musical instruments, among other things.) All I know is that he deals directly with the students (Head of Students, perhaps?). Well he and Mrs. C are alike in that both have taken an extreme liking to me. His portfolio: complimenting me daily, even if there's nothing to compliment ("You, woooow." English ability next to none, by the way.); making his presence known (Read: leaving his desk and walking all the way to the other side of our very large shared work room) whenever another male staff member attempts to converse with me; telling me (in Korean and around other teachers, mind you) that we should go drink Korean rice wine together on a rainy day (Never mind the fact that we can't communicate!); getting inebriated at a school dinner (soooo much more on this in a later post! But drinking is synonymous with work here.) and proclaiming to be "single" and "a playboy" (the former is not true, don't know about the latter); knowing that I was sick even before I knew it myself after having studied me (umm, clearly!) intensely during the first 3 months that I had lived here (CrEeEePy!!!); singing a ballad (in front of Mrs. C. and one of his bosses--male, no doubt) in Korean about how beautiful/pretty/cute I am, while I died of embarassment and they laughed and smiled with admiration; realizing that I had been avoiding him, and subsequently conspiring with Mrs. C. to treat me to lunch, despite the fact that I had declined the offer. (When we got to the restaurant, the entire.conversation.consisted.of.the.two.of.them.complimenting.me, in two languages! BoRiNg. At some point they even asked what type of man I liked, with Mrs. C. even gesturing toward Mr. S. and saying, "he's very handsome, right?")
Despite not being at the top of the food chain, this guy gets away with murder, and his antics are usually praised! Why??? My guess is that because in this EXTREMELY image-conscious and male-dominated culture, he's considered an idol. Tall, attractive, and charismatic, and male. So with all these things, he's free to be "worried about me even though he's married," as one of my co-teachers (who's an older lady!?) giggled and told me one day. Why even translate that??
Sunday, April 29, 2012
The Seriousness of Sharing...
Where do I begin?? Alas, I have only been inhabiting South Korea for mere months, and yet my experiences here are already begining to perplex even my own imagination...
(Disclaimer: I am not attempting to challenge past, present or future experiences/perceptions, nor assert my experiences/perceptions as absolute. I am merely speaking from my perspective.)
Now, for the good stuff!
This country is a communal culture in every.sense.of.the.word. No joke. Prior to my arrival, I knew that they liked to share everything--namely names (try differentiating between 5 female students who all have the same two first names and family name), food, germs (anyone remember that little outbreak called Avian influenza?), stress, studying propensity (more on that later) and the like. What I wasn't prepared for is the exact extent of sharing that takes place. You see, sitting on a heated floor with your legs crossed while daintinly balancing chopsticks between cute, tiny bowls of boiled white (ALWAYS white!) rice, kimchi (pickled cabbage--actually not bad!), and a colorful assortment of fish parts is only part of the story. So imagine my surprise (and utter disgust) to learn that it is also customary to share... the soup! (Gasp!) Nevermind the fact that I had never had seaweed soup in the first place, but never in my wildest dreams did I think that my first experience with such a food would, indeed, be a shared experience. For those who think that I might be be being culturally insensitive or closed-minded, riddle me this: how can my tastebuds and I truly know the flavor of a new soup when it has been tainted by so many...um...free agents?!? Ha! Think about it: when I slurp up my share of seaweed soup, am I tasting the sea from whence the seaweed came, the poor fish who died so that his head might flavor the broth of said soup, or the remnants of Mr. Kim's mid-afternoon coffee and cigarette?? (Not to mention that Mrs. Park has kimchi bits stuck in and lipstick smudges stuck on her teeth! I won't dare investigate further..shutter) My point exactly. So from now on, I shall employ the following strategy: either be the first to sip or suddenly be "too hungry to waste my appetite on soup."
Let's delve a little further into the sharing bit, shall we? As a foreigner, it's no surprise that, on the whole, people are obsessed, or at very least curious about you (loads more on this later!) This means that as a way of "welcoming" you, students (and sometimes perfect strangers) will approach you with a warm smile and a handful of equally warm, often times unwrapped, candy. (No, I'm not referring to three-year-olds or seasoned citizens, either. I'm talking teenagers and middle-aged adults.) Therein lies the dilemma: While I think that a place where it's relatively safe to accept candy from strangers (and the fact that strangers want to actually give me candy??) is absolutely amazing, and I would also love to try out the Korean version of Skittles, I'm not always so sure that my immune system will be up for the challenge! The same goes with actual food. On any given day a fellow teacher, student or staff member will shove chopsticks holding some sort of food toward my mouth, fully expecting for me to remove said food using my mouth. (Sometimes they'll just use their hands, and attempt to "feed" me the good, old-fashioned way, and think nothing of it.) All of this wouldn't be a problem, of course, if I had not observed the minor fact that many Koreans are not really, um...into washing their hands thoroughly. From my observation at various places, such as schools, private homes, and public places, soap is treated as an add-on (regardless of actual affordability), and usually a quick spray of good 'ole agua and a quick shake will do the trick! Just a minor thing to consider when I'm debating the outcome of either losing "face" (and thus, hurting feelings) by politely refusing to be fed, oorrrrr saving "face," sparing feelings, and risking potentially getting sick. Decisions, decisions...
If this is something that you still can't manage to wrap your head around, consider this final point. Koreanslike LOVE to drink. (Just yesterday I received an event-related flyer that said, in English, "You think you drink like fish? Koreans drink like whale!" Priceless comedy here!) As such, it's totally okay for everyone (strangers, of course) to drink before, during, and after everyone else. "Cheers!" While attending a school dinner, a few teachers decided that they wanted to do a toast with me. (They really like to repeatedly toast to things while drinking!) I declined, stating that there were no more available (Read: clean) cups from which to drink. The male staff member then said "here!" and grabbed a few half-full cups that had been sitting on the table (and I'm sure were still being used by other people), dumped the contents of two of the cups, refilled them with liquor and then distributed them to myself and another teacher. Since he liked the contents of the third cup, he didn't dump it, but instead chose to drink it as is. Here's to hoping that the original owners of these cups are not ill!!!
A Korean teacher once told me that the possessive adjective "my" is not used with the nouns "house" and "wife." Instead, Koreans say, "our house" and "our wife." I'm guessing that it would be proper to say "our germs," too...
Communal, indeed.
(Update: While eating at a Korean restaurant in a small town, the owner (an older lady) kept referring to me as "our pretty," which would make me communal, too. I just keeps getting better!)
(Disclaimer: I am not attempting to challenge past, present or future experiences/perceptions, nor assert my experiences/perceptions as absolute. I am merely speaking from my perspective.)
Now, for the good stuff!
This country is a communal culture in every.sense.of.the.word. No joke. Prior to my arrival, I knew that they liked to share everything--namely names (try differentiating between 5 female students who all have the same two first names and family name), food, germs (anyone remember that little outbreak called Avian influenza?), stress, studying propensity (more on that later) and the like. What I wasn't prepared for is the exact extent of sharing that takes place. You see, sitting on a heated floor with your legs crossed while daintinly balancing chopsticks between cute, tiny bowls of boiled white (ALWAYS white!) rice, kimchi (pickled cabbage--actually not bad!), and a colorful assortment of fish parts is only part of the story. So imagine my surprise (and utter disgust) to learn that it is also customary to share... the soup! (Gasp!) Nevermind the fact that I had never had seaweed soup in the first place, but never in my wildest dreams did I think that my first experience with such a food would, indeed, be a shared experience. For those who think that I might be be being culturally insensitive or closed-minded, riddle me this: how can my tastebuds and I truly know the flavor of a new soup when it has been tainted by so many...um...free agents?!? Ha! Think about it: when I slurp up my share of seaweed soup, am I tasting the sea from whence the seaweed came, the poor fish who died so that his head might flavor the broth of said soup, or the remnants of Mr. Kim's mid-afternoon coffee and cigarette?? (Not to mention that Mrs. Park has kimchi bits stuck in and lipstick smudges stuck on her teeth! I won't dare investigate further..shutter) My point exactly. So from now on, I shall employ the following strategy: either be the first to sip or suddenly be "too hungry to waste my appetite on soup."
Let's delve a little further into the sharing bit, shall we? As a foreigner, it's no surprise that, on the whole, people are obsessed, or at very least curious about you (loads more on this later!) This means that as a way of "welcoming" you, students (and sometimes perfect strangers) will approach you with a warm smile and a handful of equally warm, often times unwrapped, candy. (No, I'm not referring to three-year-olds or seasoned citizens, either. I'm talking teenagers and middle-aged adults.) Therein lies the dilemma: While I think that a place where it's relatively safe to accept candy from strangers (and the fact that strangers want to actually give me candy??) is absolutely amazing, and I would also love to try out the Korean version of Skittles, I'm not always so sure that my immune system will be up for the challenge! The same goes with actual food. On any given day a fellow teacher, student or staff member will shove chopsticks holding some sort of food toward my mouth, fully expecting for me to remove said food using my mouth. (Sometimes they'll just use their hands, and attempt to "feed" me the good, old-fashioned way, and think nothing of it.) All of this wouldn't be a problem, of course, if I had not observed the minor fact that many Koreans are not really, um...into washing their hands thoroughly. From my observation at various places, such as schools, private homes, and public places, soap is treated as an add-on (regardless of actual affordability), and usually a quick spray of good 'ole agua and a quick shake will do the trick! Just a minor thing to consider when I'm debating the outcome of either losing "face" (and thus, hurting feelings) by politely refusing to be fed, oorrrrr saving "face," sparing feelings, and risking potentially getting sick. Decisions, decisions...
If this is something that you still can't manage to wrap your head around, consider this final point. Koreans
A Korean teacher once told me that the possessive adjective "my" is not used with the nouns "house" and "wife." Instead, Koreans say, "our house" and "our wife." I'm guessing that it would be proper to say "our germs," too...
Communal, indeed.
(Update: While eating at a Korean restaurant in a small town, the owner (an older lady) kept referring to me as "our pretty," which would make me communal, too. I just keeps getting better!)
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