Oh, Santa Fe.

Another Friday in the office. The semester is winding down and I’m facing two more weeks of classes and a long break. It’s snowing outside and looking like a bitter cold winter is not only forthcoming, but already here. The sad news is that the Outkasts season is over—no football until spring. The good news is that we won the league cup to go with the cup we won in Ulsan a few weeks back. It’s been an amazing turnaround for the Outkasts in the last year, going from perpetual cellar dwellers to double champions. Tomorrow is the big end of season banquet where we start with a Brazilian buffet (meat, meat, and more meat!) and continue on the town afterwards, trophies in hand. Having gotten used to looking forward to soccer or a soccer related activity every weekend I’m now at a loss as to how I’ll pass the coming months and what I have to look forward to next.

An island might just be the ticket. Having a break in January, I’ve booked a ticket to Vietnam. With ten days to spend one might try to see as much as they could, cultural, country, city, and so forth. However, on my last vacation I learned a lesson and will stick to that blueprint this time around. As we know, I was in the Philippines without a camera, burned out on Manila, and tired from constantly being in transit. When I got to Bantayan after a week traversing Luzon it took about two days for me to decide that I wasn’t leaving and didn’t need to go anywhere else.
Having lost yet another camera was disappointing and annoying yet it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. With no camera there was no ability to take any pictures and with no ability to take pictures there was no pressure to go anywhere. In the past the urge was always to explore every day and see as much as possible. However, my mindset changed this time to: I don’t have to do anything or go anywhere. This mentality led to the most relaxing ten days of my life in the little town of Santa Fe.

Spending all ten of these days at the family owned Onde Inn I sunk into a routine of getting up early and walking down the street to have breakfast. For the bulk of the time it was shark week on the Discovery Channel, which I would watch during breakfast. Not sure if it’s the best idea watching shark week before swimming in the ocean, but it was the perfect complement to breakfast and coffee. After eating I would walk back to the guest house and relax until high tide, which would come around 9:30. Then I would walk down the beach 1-2 kilometers to Youneek Resort, where the best place to swim was. After taking a long swim I’d then walk back down the beach to Onde where I would begin my daily reading on the front porch.

For the first several days I was completely engulfed in “Armageddon” by Leon Uris. One traveler I met asked me if that was the novelization of the awful Bruce Willis movie—it’s not. “Armageddon” is a historical fictional narrative set in post-war Berlin in 1945, when the city was under four-power control (Russia, USA, England, and France). At the onset of the cold war there was a power struggle and idealistic impasse between the United States and Russia over the governance, currency, and future of Berlin, as well as the challenge of de-nazification. This conflict resulted in a Russian blockade which cut off all avenues of transit to Western Berlin, which was occupied by the U.S., Britain, and France. This created the logistical nightmare of transporting food, medicine, and supplies to the devastated city right before what would be an extremely harsh winter. The solution was Operation Airlift, which is truly one of the greatest engineering achievements in human history, not to mention one of the greatest humanitarian efforts. This is a novel that, given my German heritage, hit very close to home and is one of the most rewarding and enriching reads of my lifetime. I would recommend that not only every German-American should read this book but would argue that every American should as well. I left this book on the island in hopes that some other traveler will pick it up and be able to appreciate it as much as I did.

After reading for an hour or two it would be time for a stroll down to the market to get lunch. Usually I would eat some chicken grilled on the corner by a nice lady and her daughters. At this point I should mention that Bantayan is the egg basket of the Philippines, producing two million eggs a day. Again I found myself surrounded by cocks. One day I was adventurous enough to try Tagoangkan, a local specialty which is basically a grilled sack of eggs, or chicken ovary. It tasted like boiled eggs wrapped in a crispy chicken skin… I didn’t get this again, but it wasn’t terrible. After lunch I’d stop by the same mart and get a big bottle of Red Horse, which is a powerful San Miguel. The rest of the afternoon I’d sit on my front porch reading while sipping a big beer. Once I was too buzzed to read anymore I’d take a nap in the hammock and then head back down the beach to Youneek.

The tide would come back late afternoon to early evening and travelers and expats would gather at the Youneek bar on the beach to drink really, really, really cold San Miguels and perhaps swim. I came to enjoy the company of the expats, who were all middle aged men who married Phillipinas and decided not to leave this island. Some might cynically call them dirty old men, but I would disagree. These guys seemed to have things pretty well figured out and they lead relaxed lives. Funny how these expats have their own little odd community there. All were from different places and all had interesting stories. I spent each evening hanging out this bungalow bar swapping stories with travelers and expats.

After sunset the group would go their separate ways for dinner and then regroup at The Hard Kock (no kidding) Café for a couple more San Miguels. The owner is an expat who freely exchanges books and dvd’s with travelers. It was this place where I left “Armageddon” and in exchange picked up a James Patterson novel, which didn’t quite have the same impact on me. This was the novel that I read in the airport before I left. My follow up to Leon Uris was Cormac McCarthy’s “No Country for Old Men”, which I very much enjoyed. Two out of three is not so bad I suppose.

For ten days I did this routine, and I stayed at Onde (garden area pictured) the entire time. The family treated me very well and I’ve since become chat buddies with Jolly, the nice lady who brought me coconut oil the evening I got stung by a jellyfish. I also should acknowledge that I borrowed some of her photos. The day before I left I did the same routine with a bit of sadness knowing I had to leave the next day. Who knows, if I wouldn’t have run out of money I probably would have never left. That evening I went to bed early after bidding farewell to my expat friends. However, I was awoken that night by very loud music.

The music started late around 1am and continued through the night. I could not sleep and finally, around 3:30 walked down the street to find the source. Who the hell was blasting this obnoxious music in the middle of the night and why? Following the music, I walked through a village through some woods and came across a basketball court where enormous speakers were blaring full tilt—with no person in sight. Finally I saw a local and I asked him what was going on, to which he replied: “Festival”.

Once a year they do this festival where they play music through the night and begin to prepare their feast at dawn. The ritual involved slaughtering a pig, which I was asked to do. We gathered near a fire next to the doomed pig and I thought of the task at hand: Was he really asking me to stab a pig in the throat? Could I really do this? My initial thought was: “Of course. When will I ever get the chance to do this again?” As daylight approached the other men and boys gathered and I nervously awaited the moment when we would seize the hog. Since I had not done this before it was decided that someone with experience in killing pigs should do the honors, seeing how I didn’t even know where the animal’s throat was. Whew. They did have me help hold the animal down while a man jabbed a knife into its throat over a bucket. Now is where I need to say very clearly that these animals know what’s coming and don’t go quietly. We grabbed the rather large hog from the pen and it let out a blood-curdling scream, which it would sustain until it’s death. I held Wilbur (I named him that before we killed him) down on the table with three other men while he kicked and screamed violently. After this was finished, we slaughtered a smaller pig, just for good measure, and the sun had fully come up. The family had invited me to spend the day with them celebrating the festival and eating fresh pig meat (come on, they cooked the things!). With great regret I told them that I had to leave and couldn’t stay. As fate would have it, the most interesting experience in ten days happened two hours before I was to leave the island.

I didn’t want to leave the island that day and considered going back this winter. However, there are other islands to explore and I’m greatly anticipating relaxation and unforeseen adventures when I get to Phu Quoc, Vietnam in January.

Slow Recovery from Near Braindeath

By now you must be thinking “Is this guy ever going to finish the Philippines blog? That was months ago, What the hell?”. To that I say: Fair enough. Perhaps it is a lack of pictures that has kept me from moving on. Perhaps it was our tough stretch of games where we won, drew, and lost and found ourselves in a tie for first place (We are currently back in sole possession with two games to go). The real factor, however, has been the fact that my brain has completely melted due to grading essays and teaching classes. Going through stacks of papers written by high school Korean students has ummmmm….. I’m draw blank.

Finally, I finished and my brain is slowly recovering. Now I am ensconced (Hey! It’s coming back!) in my office chair staring at a computer pretending to work. It’s Friday and the semester is winding down. Since I found out that I would not be coming back to this school next year (a contractual impasse) the motivation to give assignments and grade papers has dwindled to somewhere between none whatsoever and zero. Lame duck status is a total motivation sucker, yet there is a certain load off my shoulders. With only five weeks of classes left there is no way another pile of essays is going to make their way to my desk and I can now shift my focus on more important things, like my last vacation and the next one.

Oh yes, the next one. After the end of the semester we have a break (actually, I won’t have any classes until the end of my contract) and I was tempted to go back to Bantayan, which was pretty much the most chilled place I’ve ever been. However, I have a list of places that I’ve wanted to visit and can’t in good conscience re-visit countries I’ve been to until I’ve seen all of the places on said list. Whew, that was a mouthful… just imagine grading or editing a version of that sentence written by a 16 year old Korean and you could see why I’m struggling to put words together.

‘The Tell Tale heart’ shows us what’s the care hypersensitivity. That spreads out at the Bronze Age. At that time, class society was started at first. Peoples have felt stress by a king. At Middle Age, peoples felt stress in other way. From that time money had the position that is king of the world. Peoples want a lot of money and rich. In the way, peoples felt stress that was occurred for their fault. This phenomenon had been going on 1941.

Take that, add four or five other paragraphs like it, and multiply by 150. Personally, I’m pleased that I had the self-control to not write “WHAT THE F**K ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” in the margin. On a side note, this particular anonymous student used the term “hypersensitivity” 12 times in five paragraphs and never once explained what it means or how it pertains to the story. Okay, I’ve got that off my chest and can now clear my head and move on. But where to go from here?

Islands. I need to get off of this metaphoric island that is my job and onto a real tropical one. Truthfully, if I had money I never would have left the last island. In Santa Fe, Bantayan life slowed down to less than a crawl. My days consisted of walking on the beach, swimming, reading, reading, reading, drinking cold San Miguels, and hanging out with the locals and expats. As much as I want to go back to this place I realize I can walk on the beach, swim, read, and drink somewhere else. So now I am reading up on another quiet island called Phu Quoc which will allow me to cross the final “must visit” destination off my list: Vietnam.

I hope that none of this island talk has led anyone to believe I was going to actually wrap up the Philippines. It’s not happening this day because I want to do Santa Fe justice. I have to do the Onde Inn justice. I must do Leon Uris justice. And most importantly, I have to honor the memory of two hogs. I just can’t pay proper tribute until I’m fully recovered from the trauma of reading those essays, which might require a quiet evening and a bottle of wine. In fairness I should say that not all of them were that confusing… some of them actually made sense. A few of them were very interesting. However, the majority of them fried my head to an extent where I’m nearly forget English-ee. Now that I’m done with them forever I can finally get back to the island… just not today.

An Island and a Huge Spider.

Another Friday afternoon after another week flew by and I’m sitting in the office pretending to work while fantasizing about scoring four goals tomorrow in our showdown with INTS. Outkasts have won four straight games and are in sole possession of first place with the aforementioned INTS just behind us. We will take the same field tomorrow that we played on two weeks ago when we thrashed an overwhelmed and outmanned BUTA team 11-3. Somebody, whom I won’t mention, scored his first hat trick with the Outkasts in that game. Like I said, I am not mentioning names, but I’ll give a hint: He is writing this blog while fantasizing about scoring four goals tomorrow. Anyway, enough about soccer… Let’s get back to that vacation I took eight months ago in the Philippines.

Where am I now? Oh yeah, still in the first week, Wednesday. I was in the Philippines for 18 days and I’m just now getting to Wednesday. Still there has been no mention of the quiet little island town of Santa Fe where I left my heart, so today the topic will be the transition from cock jokes with a bunch of dicks (kidding, week one couldn’t have been spent in better company) to my time alone on the island. This particular Wednesday we left Sagada in route back to Manila to get Leo back to the airport on Thursday. We had all come to the Philippines during the raining season taking our chances that the weather would be nice the majority of the time, which it was. This day, however, was in the extreme minority. It absolutely poured rain all day as we drove through the mountains, which was frankly really scary. Thanks again to Joe for being a great driver and to the good people at Toyota for making the Camry.

After a long day on the road we crashed at The Robelle House again, who should pay me royalties for mentioning them. If you are ever in Manila, stay there. If you are ever in Baguio, go to the Red Lion. Ever in Sagada? Go to the Kimchi House. Ever on the island of Mindoro?? Stay with grandma. I got ahead of myself with the last one but I’m expecting checks from the first three. I will give all of my propers to the Onde Guesthouse when I get to Santa Fe as well. Anyway… what was I talking about? Oh yeah, we were back in Manila. Seeing how Zach had three more days in the country and how two of his days were essentially spent in transit we decided to shift gears and go somewhere tropical and island like. Therefore we decided on a tropical island, a logical choice, near Manila—an island by the name of Mindoro.

Before we left for Mindoro I had bought a round trip plane ticket to Cebu for that Sunday, when Zach and Joe would leave and I would be on my own. While it was fun having travelling partners I was also looking forward to fulfilling my own agenda but greatly enjoyed Mindoro for the time being. We stayed in a little resort town on the beach called Puerto Galera where we did tropical island stuff for 2 ½ days while I got zero photos. Since there are no photos, other than this one of the three of us standing in front of a giant painting of a tropical beach sunset, my words will have to suffice.

If you are still reading at this point then I just have say thank you and must wonder what you’re thinking. Now for a few comments on Mindoro, where there are no real stories other than getting massages on the beach, snorkeling, swimming, drinking San Miguels, swimming, fire dancers, mango smoothies, San Miguels, more swimming, tranny bars full of trannies (I still can’t figure out what the hell was up with that), sunshine, white sand, palm trees, annoying peddlers, grandma, and a spider the size of my fist in my room. There were also a few San Miguels in the mix. Most of these items speak for themselves but I feel I should explain grandma and the spider. I’ll let the tranny bar rest. The guest house where I stayed, the name of which escapes me, was run by a very nice lady I referred to as “grandma” who is a—get this—grandmother. She had been all over the world and we talked at length about Japan, seeing how we had both climbed Mt Fuji. The first evening I stayed there, when I walked into my room to change from my swimming gear into my evening gown there was a spider the size of a tarantula in the corner. I went immediately to grandma and told her there was an enormous spider and asked if she had a jar or glass. I think she had misunderstood my intention of catching this thing and sent her little girl with a broom to take care of it. I’m fairly certain they are still mocking me for being afraid of this thing… however, I just wanted to catch it to show Joe and Zach. Also, I didn’t like the idea of sleeping in a room with a gigantic spider that might crawl all over my face or into my mouth while I was asleep. Well, for all I know, it did. It was nowhere to be seen when the little girl with the broom came to the room to kill the spider I was presumably afraid of. Anyhoo, it wasn’t very easy sleeping in that room that night, but I did.

While I really enjoyed this island and its natural beauties I was ready to move on after a couple of days. It gets a little old having people wave things for you to buy in your face over and over. I probably said “No, thank you” four hundred times on this island. I wasn’t in the market for pearls (everybody was selling them), bracelets, necklaces, blowguns, or really any kind of souvenir. However, they never stopped trying. This is something that I’ve dealt with in varying degrees in Southeast Asia. As far as persistence and annoyance goes I would rate Mindoro better than Cambodia but worse than Indonesia and Thailand.I knew at this point that I wanted to go someplace where I could relax and not be hassled, and I can’t overstate just how massively I hit the motherload at my next destination in that department. We left Mindoro on Saturday and went to The Robelle House yet again. Not wanting to deal with the hassle of people in Manila trying to rob me, scam me, or sell me Viagra I didn’t leave the hotel that evening. Seeing how I had nearly two full weeks left, I didn’t feel any sense of urgency to do something. Zach and Joe would leave the next day and I would move on to stage two of my extended vacation.

Juveniles in Sagada

After starting the season off with a tough luck loss the OutKasts have started to find their groove after winning 3-0 Saturday in a game that was not nearly as close as the score line would indicate. In addition, fifteen of us would engage in a game of "pub golf" that evening where we went to nine different pubs and narrowly avoided being arrested and deported. This weekend's game is against the Kurkadurkastanis of KG Top, and we are looking for our third straight win. Enough about OutKasts though, it's time to magically transport back to the Philippines, where our heroes [sic] have just left Baguio en route to Sagada.

The drive to Sagada would take about six hours of winding up and down perilous mountain roads, some of which would seemed undrivable, if not for the skill and experience of Joe and the tenacity and durability of the Toyota Camry. Having spent so much time driving under similar conditions in Brazil Joe knew exactly how to attack these roads which would be challenging to an SUV, let alone a sedan. The car bottomed out too many times to count, each time inducing cringes from the passengers and a genuine fear (at least for me) that the car wouldn't make it. I had pictured a Blues Brothers scenario where we would arrive in Sagada and the car would completely fall apart as soon as we got out of it. Amazingly, it held together for the entire week.

What does a group of four guys do for six hours in a car? When we ran out of things to talk about after the first twenty minutes it turned into a series of twenty questions games. While that might seem to be enough to drive anyone insane, the incredibly scenery of mountains, jungle, waterfalls, and valleys made the trip not just bearable but quite enjoyable. We made a few stops along the way to different scenic spots, of which I got no pictures of course. Joe was kind enough to send me some, including this pic of Leo and I in a rice terrace. We look like a couple of guys that have been in a car for four hours playing twenty questions with a bunch of dudes. Seriously though, we were all getting along beautifully.

After taking a break at the rice terrace we continued forth toward Sagada and a little event took place that would set a theme for the next couple days. In the Philippines there are chickens all over the place, particularly in Sagada. The male chickens wander around the streets and are everywhere. As we were driving away from the rice terrace on a rocky and somewhat treacherous road we saw one of these chickens and one of us (gee, guess which one?) dryly commented: "Nice cock!", which drew the kind of laughter a fourteen year old watching Beavis and Butthead would appreciate. Heading to a small farming community where we would be surrounded by male chickens and would constantly hear them crowing... well, you can probably see where this is going.
We would arrive in Sagada just before dark and got cheap rooms at the Alfredo Inn, which was clean and charming despite the unsophisticated plumbing. The above picture was taken at night in the pitch dark with no flash necessary due to a certain someone's belly being whiter than snow and brighter than the sun. (Bottom to top: My white self, Joseph, Leo, Zach). Actually this was taken the next day but it's the only picture I have of the four of us. We had chosen Sagada because of it's ample hiking opportunities and its hanging coffins, caves, rivers, waterfalls, etc. Also the small community has a well-earned reputation for being laid back and low key with many coffee shops that make it comparable to say... Amsterdam (hint, hint, that's all I'll say). Our hangout of choice was the Kimchi Grill, which seemed the logical choice given the irony that Zach and I were trying to get away from Korea. The nice folks at the Kimchi arranged a guided hike for the four of us the following afternoon, which is when the picture was really taken.
The next morning we were up and out bright and early to check out the nearby cave and hanging coffins and begin the onslaught of entendres that inevitably happen when four fourteen year old male brains are "surrounded by cocks." I should say at this point that despite going during the raining season the weather couldn't have been more ideal for our hike.
After our morning hike we had lunch and then went to the Kimchi to meet our guide. The guide took us through the mountains to many scenic and awe-inspiring views that made my beat myself up for continually for having lost my camera. I appreciate that Joe was nice enough to send some of his pictures. Our very pleasant hike led us to this waterfall where we could climb to the top and jump into a deep and very cold pool, which felt amazing after the hike. This is the scene of the group picture and also of this action shot of me jumping off the top. After hanging out for a bit we headed back towards town as there were a slew of "big cock, white cock, fat cock, black cock, small cock, skinny cock, proud cock... any other variety you can imagine" observations about the ubiquitous chickens. It just never got old. The funny thing is that this is not lost at all on the locals. I actually heard them making the same kind of jokes as if they never get sick of it either. Juvenile, a little dirty, yet simple and very funny--we found this a constant source of amusement.

After our hike we had dinner and had planned to take an early evening hike, but the monsoon season showed it's true colors. That evening, through the pouring rain, we would hang out at the warm, dry, and cozy Kimchi House having San Miguels and the local coffee with our fine local friends. It was Tueday night and Leo had to leave on Thursday, so the next morning we would make the long drive back to Manila to get him to the airport and head to an island. Before we left I had wanted to get a picture of one of these fine local creatures but also knew that they belonged to people and it's always a good idea to ask people in foreign countries if you can take a picture of them or their possessions. For some reason the guy at the Inn declined when we politely asked: "Sir, may we take a picture of your cock?". Geez, that guy was pretty sensitive about his chicken!

Road Trip in Luzon

Friday night is here after a third consecutive week of the nose being planted firmly to the grindstone. Since returning from the island I’ve been fully entrenched in classes, preparation for classes, creating lesson plans, making quizzes, grading quizzes, and, oh yeah, soccer every weekend all weekend. OutKasts have begun their fall campaign and fell just short in their first match last weekend 2-1. The game took place in a muddy lake on a dirt pitch in the rain with our only healthy and in-country players totaling eleven—and fighting valiantly 90 minutes against a strong Moroccan side. Life in Seoul is good despite my workload getting much, much, much heavier. The days of blogging during office hours may be over; I must now do it in my—GASP—free time. Despite the constant barrage of rain (the monsoon season is working overtime this year), the huge increase in workload, and the games on Saturdays and Sundays (I joined a Sunday league team because I figured I should play as much as I can while I still can because that’s what I LOVE to do) I am fully relaxed, rejuvenated, and committed to sucking every bit of marrow out of my charmed life in Korea. Had it not been for my wonderful and relaxing 18 day stint in the Philippines, my attitude might be quite different.

There’s so much to cover and I’ve already divulged a teaser for the end of the trip in my last entry, so I presume the best place to begin is from the, ummmm, beginning. Friday, July 23rd I flew into Manila and got there late. Ugh, Manila. I think I made my point in my last entry so I will skip the city (and I didn’t do much there) but need to include a few details before I get to the meat of the first week. One, my camera was stolen. For those keeping count it was my third point and shoot that I’ve lost. I like to think it was a world class pickpocket for which Manila is renowned but it may have just have been your dumbf**k narrator foolishly losing yet another camera two days into an eighteen day trip. I would spend the first week beating myself up over this while my travel partners facetiously kept reminding me of it. Two, on my first night I spent time in a pub by the name of The Red Lion Inn and spoke at length with the owner, Lyle, an American expat who gave me many useful tips on traveling around the Philippines. Lyle owns two Red Lions, one in Manila and the other in Baguio. Third and last point on Manila: I saw the most AMAZING cover band! A five piece Filipino power ballad band started off with Air Supply and then continued with an array of Journey, Boston, 38 Special, REO Speedwagon, and every other cheesy eighties band you could name. They were so good at what they did that I honestly believe that if the actual Journey had performed “Don’t Stop Believing” that night they wouldn’t have sounded any better.

Having mentioned the “travel partners”, I went to the Robelle House (a decent hotel in Manila) to meet them Sunday morning. Digressing a bit, I have to explain my motivation for choosing the Philippines for my vacation over Vietnam or another destination. The timing had worked out where I had vacation at the same time as my long time friend and former long time neighbor Zach. Zach and I met in 2006 when he moved in next door to me and we were immediate friends and later (not much) discovered to be doppelgangers. Last year we were in Austin and went to South by Southwest together. The timing provided an occasion where we would hang out in our third country together. Twice in the last three years Zach has spent working holidays in Brazil with his best friend from Austin, Joseph Carter, who would be meeting him in the Philippines with his younger brother Leo. Joe is a documentary filmmaker who was born in Italy and later moved to an even better place: Austin. Joe speaks Portuguese, Italian, Spanish, and (of course) English and has been living in Brazil for the last four years or so. Leo, right after graduating from university, spent a year in China teaching and his older brother decided to meet him and Zach at the end of his contract for what would be his first trip to Asia. I tagged along and never lost sight of how interesting and fun my company was.

We rented a car and the plan was to get the hell out of Manila and drive north through Luzon (the name of the big island where Manila is located) to Sagada. After meeting at the Robelle around noon we began our drive to Sagada, which was a good 8 hours away with the ideal conditions. We were on the islands during the raining season, and at no other time was it more apparent than when we drove out of Manila. Manila—not the best laid out, structured, or efficiently planned of cities has NIGHTMARE traffic, and the heavy, heavy, beating rain only made getting out of the city that more tedious and difficult. “Yeah, road trip! Road trip! This is going to be a great week! Wow! Look at all the sights—we’re in a totally different country; can you believe this?... Wait a second, we’re totally stuck and not going anywhere.”

Eventually we did get out of Manila, and later in the afternoon the rain subsided. Of all the days I was in the country (comprised of many different islands) this was one of the three rainiest. Eventually we got on the highway (if that’s what you’d call it) and headed north. It was pushing three by the time we got out of Manila and it wasn’t looking like Sagada was happening that night, so we decided, upon the recommendation from Lyle, to make it as far as Baguio and stay at the Red Lion. Having taken the recommendation from Lyle I was amazed at how friendly and welcoming his co-owner Tony was. He had been told that I might stay there and to my surprise was expecting me and the boys. Being treated like royalty there we consumed many San Miguels at this fine establishment and chatted with Tony late into the night. The next morning we profusely thanked him for his hospitality and set out toward Sagada.

I have to say that it has been a couple of weeks since I wrote this and I have been waiting for pictures but have nothing to use on this particular entry. The next one will have some great pics sent to me from Joe and I will go into more detail on Sagada. Thankfully I have this entire upcoming week off where I can escape editing papers, speeches, letters, placards, and everything else that has been landing on my desk (There is now a shortage of red ink in Seoul.) and frying my brain and finally dig into my trip. Perhaps it’s ironic that I’m spending my week off blogging about my last vacation but I’m happy to get into it. On a final note until next week… It’s Friday night and OutKasts have a game tomorrow. Our last game, the follow up to Morocco, was an historic come from behind victory where we beat a very good Itaewon FC team when we scored twice in the last twenty minutes to win 2-1. It was proclaimed the greatest victory in the history of the OutKasts and there was much, much rejoicing. In my next opener, expect good news from the game tomorrow and look forward to a few pictures to accompany what should be an interesting story with some good old fashioned dirty jokes

Deeper Shade of Seoul

After slaughtering a couple of pigs I went back to the guest house, took a long shower, and packed my few belongings. It was the day that I had been sweating for the last week—the day I had to leave the island of Bantayan. Over three weeks my pisos had dwindled down to just enough to cover travel expenses, airport terminal fees, and a meal. Just before 8am I took a tricycle (usually a motorcycle, in this case a bicycle, with a sidecar) to the ferry terminal. Then I took a two plus hour ferry ride to Hagnaya where I caught a 50 piso (about a dollar) bus back to Cebu City. Over four hours later and after reading the rest of No Country for Old Men I arrived in Cebu City and took a cab to the airport. On the way to the airport the taxi driver took me through a McDonald’s drive-thru, where I devoured a Quarter-pounder combo. Compared to what I’d been eating, this was one of the best meals I’d had in a week.

Not wanting to risk getting stuck in the country I went to the airport with 4 hours to kill. One of the expats on the island gave me a copy of James Patterson’s London Bridges and I burned through that while waiting to check in. At 9:30 I boarded to fly to Manila, where I would be flying out from the following morning at 6:20. The plane had a mechanical difficulty and was delayed nearly an hour and I arrived at Manila after midnight. I had landed at the domestic terminal and needed to get to the international and had to wait over an hour for the courtesy shuttle. It was past two when I arrived at the international terminal and was relieved when I checked in nearly two hours later. I had made it from the island and was cleared, through, and on my way back to Korea with ten pisos to spare! Flying the very comfortable and amenable Cathay Pacific, there was a stopover in Hong Kong, a quick plane switch and the home stretch back to Korea. When the plane landed I finally arrived at the round-about point of this post—I was SO happy to be back in Seoul!!

Thirty hours after leaving the island I got off the plane and was welcomed to one of the best international (maybe THE best) airports in the world—Seoul Incheon. It took less than half an hour to clear immigration, customs, and pick up my bag and I was back to civilization. I bought a bottle of water for 500 won—the same amount that I would pay in Suwon, at the subway station, at a baseball game, or anywhere. It wasn’t jacked up because it was sold in an airport. When I walked outside I didn’t have 50 people come up to me and say: “Sir, taxi?”, “Taxi, my friend?”, “Sir, Where are you going?” and what not. There were rows of air-conditioned buses that would take me anywhere in the city and I took one to my neighborhood. The bus was clean and comfortable, the driver friendly, and the roads were wide open, well-paved, and orderly. A little time in the crazy, chaotic and filthy city called Manila gave me a new found appreciation of just how together Seoul really is.

While I may get aggravated at the day to day annoyances of Korean society I can’t deny their work ethic and the amazing infrastructure they’ve built up in a short time. Seoul is a modern city, with a sophisticated and efficient mass transit that would rival any city. Its wide-spread system of buses, trains, and taxis is convenient (unlike most cities), safe (unlike many cities), and cheap (unlike Tokyo). Coming from Manila it is refreshing in that Korea has uniform standards for everything. Every taxi you take here is going to cost you the same and the drivers are not in the practice of trying to pull a fast one when someone new to the city gets in their cab. Food prices are pretty much the same everywhere and prices are clearly posted. I have never been ripped off in Korea (not by a stranger, at least) and have never at any point felt that someone was trying to take me for all they could because I’m a foreigner (cough, Manila). As far as security goes, Seoul is one of the safest, most convenient cities in the world. Coming from a place where I felt I had to constantly guard my wallet it was most refreshing coming back to a place where I could relax and let my guard down with absolutely no worries whatsoever of being robbed or scammed. Here I can walk down the street without a stranger pushing a box of Viagra in my face, asking me if I want to buy some (that happened in Manila in the middle of the day—no thanks, stranger… no Viagra for me today).

For nearly four years I’ve lived in Korea and there have been many different cities I’ve been to. Never, at any time day or night, in any place, in any city was there a time where I felt unsafe or hassled to buy something I didn’t want. Korea is barely on the radar as far as tourism goes, and the economy does not rely on it whatsoever. By contrast, the economies of Cambodia, Thailand, and Philippines are heavily reliant on tourism and it can be a hassle being in the touristy areas of these countries to varying degrees (Indonesia was no exception either). When I traveled to these countries I felt (in certain areas) that I was constantly a target. People assume that just because I’m white and American that I’m rich, which is far, far, far from the truth. Korea has an economic stability that is the envy of many or most southeast Asian countries and no one here seems too impressed with my financial status. I heard many times in Philippines how they wanted to go to Korea because that’s where the money is. I had heard that in other countries as well.

One thing that I think a person should accomplish on vacation is the ability to see their own position from a different perspective and either appreciate their situation or change it. Being so happy to get back to a civilized, safe, and lucrative country I certainly gained an appreciation for my situation and am happy to be back. The batteries are fully recharged and I’m excited to embrace my life in Seoul and a new semester teaching. In a closing remark, I don’t want to give the impression that the Philippines was a negative experience—far, far, far from it! Manila was, but that was a tiny part of an otherwise great trip which I will give details of in a short time. In the meantime, it’s great to be back!!

And don’t worry, I’ll explain the first sentence of this post in due time. Stay tuned.

The Beautiful Game

The World Cup is here at last but it will be a bittersweet experience for many of us due to the senseless and horrific fatal shooting of one of our brothers last weekend in St Louis. A man whom I have played with and against for years and who has been a staple of the University City soccer community is no longer with us leaving behind a grieving and stunned group of players, friends, and comrades who will undoubtedly be watching the games with a heavy heart and sense of loss.

Ahmed was from Libya and had immigrated to America over twenty years ago. He owned the fabulous Gyro House (a place where my parents are regulars and I’ve enjoyed the massive gyro salad many times) on the U City loop and was a stalwart on the U-City seniors team, who have collected an impressive array of hardware over the last five years. I can’t say I knew the man very well off the field, but on the field I was in awe, as was everyone else, of his ridiculous right-footed shot that would somehow find the net the moment the defender let down his guard conceding a nearly impossible angle—we’ve seen it countless times and we will not see it again. He was never offsides (so he thought), would let you know exactly where and how he wanted the ball and if you could deliver it he would never disappoint.

Backing up for a moment, it’s important to explain how and why I was playing on the same field as a Muslim from Libya who is nearly my dad’s age. As anyone who knows me at all could tell you I obviously love football (American soccer). I’ve been playing with my dad and brother since I was a little kid and have met so many great people through my experiences. I have been fortunate to be a part of multi-cultural groups of various backgrounds in both Columbia and St Louis where age, W-2’s, religion, skin color, gender, and political affiliations have absolutely no bearing when we take the field. We all share a common bond, which is our mutual love for the beautiful game. Through this bond many of us have made the unlikeliest of friends whom we probably would have never met, talked to, or known otherwise. University City has a wonderfully diverse soccer community where this quality of friendly camaraderie draws people of all ages and colors together for kick-arounds, indoor games, and pub gatherings to watch football. Whenever I go home I enjoy the Perlow cubed, which is where my dad, brother and I play on the same team. The last time I took the field with the other Perlow boys Ahmed was on the other side.

Having so much free time in the office I read the news every single day, and it’s rarely good. After filtering out all of the ridiculous and banal Sandra Bullock, Gary Coleman’s divorce, and Lady Gaga distractions I read about BP, North Korea, Iran, Afghanistan, the deflating Euro, and so on and so on and so on. With this daily preponderance of scary and horrible news there are “smaller” tragedies such as Ahmed’s which happen all over America every day that don’t so much as make a ripple in the headlines. One might think this world has gone completely insane and things have spiraled hopelessly out of control.

But then, I take the field with my brother, my father, and my multi-national family and suddenly everything is right. Differences are forgotten and everyone is equal. The rich businessman is no more important than the poor waiter. The Persian auto shop worker scores a goal and is embraced by the white college student. A bulky African defender fouls the Jewish Professor and helps him up and asks if he’s okay. There are no trophies and we’re all going to work tomorrow living very different lives but none of that matters because we all love playing the game and love playing it together. Ahmed was a paradigm of this and because of it he leaves behind a diverse group of friends of various ages and ethnicities who will surely be thinking of him throughout the World Cup. We will honor his memory the best way we know how: by playing the beautiful game and celebrating our diversity.

On that note, it is my hope that this World Cup will be a beacon of hope for a world that sorely needs it. I wish that just for a month all of the world can stop and appreciate the uniqueness of every culture while knowing that they all are playing the same game that we love. Maybe for a month guns can be put down, politicians would stop bickering, BP would… alright, you jackasses get to work and plug the hole--no breaks for you, and we could all appreciate what is great about the world: The beautiful game. As USA beats England this weekend I’ll be thinking about my old teammates and extended soccer family back home and wishing them a great month as we pay our respect to Ahmed by celebrating his passion together. May he rest in peace as we spend a peaceful and entertaining World Cup with our families, teammates and friends.

Outkasts, Lost, and an 11 year old girl.

Once again it’s Friday and another week of classes is in the rear view mirror. Yes, there has been a lag in the blog (a blag, as my brother would say) as last Friday was a holiday and faced with the decision of sitting in the office recounting a typical week’s activities or playing outside I chose the latter. To appease those who spent the last week going through a blog jones (Yes, I’m humoring myself) I’ve actually included this week… A PICTURE!!

That’s me in front of a group of students in front of a fort on a mountain in a city on a cloudy hazy day. Looking out the window as I type it’s hazy once again. While the last couple of days were beautiful by Korea standards Monday was so hazy and foggy that I couldn’t actually see the mountain across the street. The forecast for the weekend calls for… drumroll ……………………RAIN!! Anyway, that’s my weekly weather digression. The rare picture was taken during a field trip a couple of weeks back that wasn’t particularly notable so I didn’t mention it. One of the other teachers took this and it took two weeks of prodding to finally get a copy and it finally arrived this week for your viewing pleasure. With that out of the way it is now time to get down to business.

First order is to congratulate The Outkasts on their successful season. It’s going to take a while to type this paragraph as one hand is typing while the other one is patting its own back but I will manage to get through it eventually. Last Saturday was our last game where we played the Kurka-Durkastani team with an outside shot of stealing first place. Having lost our first two games of the season we had re-grouped, recruited, and roared back with five straight unbeaten with our only blemish being a previously mentioned draw against the first place Malaysian team. Having won the rest of their games, the first place squad gave us new life when they lost in unlikely fashion to INTS the second to last game of the season. Going into the final stage a loss by Malaysia and a strong victory by Outkasts would have propelled us to a shocking championship. We took care of business 4-1 but had to finish for second place after learning that the Malaysians squeaked by the team we destroyed 9-0 the previous week by a count of 2-1. Give them credit for a good season, but we wish we could play them again. I’m proud to say that this team has grown considerably since our first game together and we are confidently marching into what will be a successful future together. And, by the way, I failed to score in the last game, breaking a six game scoring streak and a perfect season where I would have scored in every game played… I’ll just forget about that and enjoy the victory.

The second order of business this week has to deal with some pop culture and a couple of things I watched this week. First I have to address the long-awaited ending of Lost. If you haven’t seen it by now, don’t worry about reading on—I am not going to give anything away. That being said, there’s really nothing to give away. The ending was just like the rest of the series: schmaltzy and emotional while leaving a ton of unanswered questions, macguffins, and red herrings. Yet despite not having every little thing about the island explained I’m not bothered with the ending. Can’t say I loved it, didn’t hate it… actually I don’t really feel anything at all. I can’t say I expected the producers of Lost to explain the origins of the universe and nature of our existence—that might be setting the bar a little high. The show throughout its history has constantly set things up that went by the wayside, abandoned storylines, and wasted time with characters that had ultimately nothing to do with the grand scheme of the expected to be ultimate, end-all, be-all ending. To expect the last episode to explain every last detail and answer every fanboy question is way beyond unrealistic. For that, the ending was sufficient in bringing closure without being overly trite or arbitrary. Yes, it was sappy and emo, but the show has always been sappy and emo so this was no shock whatsoever. As far as the unanswered questions go, I’m glad they didn’t try to explain every little thing because really, who knows all of the answers to the mysteries of life, the universe, free will, time, and love. I sure as shit am glad it’s not the producers of Lost that hold the keys. My final take: Not every little single thing happens for a reason. Sometime things just happen and can’t be explained. And if you think I’m done sermonizing just wait until I address the notable movie I watched this week…

Normally when the religious protestors are up in arms over a movie I tend to roll my eyes and think: “Lighten up, people.” However, after viewing “Kick-Ass” this week I have to admit the morality police might have a point with this one. Without going into detail on the general premise (it’s a comic book movie cross between Spiderman, Mystery Men, and Watchmen—who gives a sh*t?) I’ll focus this particular discourse on the subject of controversy: Hit Girl. Now I understand the appeal of this character to pervie comic book geeks who love the Matrix but have to wonder where the line is drawn as to what is entertainment and what is, in a sense, child pornography. I admit I didn’t dislike the movie—it was at times an entertaining, “hip” spin on your typical superhero move. However, it also must be said that there is something fundamentally disturbing about watching an 11 year old, f-bomb, c-bomb dropping girl lopping off heads and limbs with swords and knives, ruthlessly capping bad guys in the head from point blank range, and getting her face pummeled by the main villain in the final showdown. Let me repeat this part: 11 year old girl. Not being all opposed to stylized violence, I do take pause when it children are brutally stabbing men and women alike to death with complete moral impunity.

Perhaps my favorite film of last year was “Inglorious Basterds”, which while brutally violent in its own right didn’t involve children and brilliantly set up its violent scenes through escalating tension and what is in my mind the best dialogue in any movie since Pulp Fiction. I was absolutely hooked in the very first scene which consisted of two people talking at a table for ten minutes before the machine guns went off. There was a long (and most brilliant) set-up, tension, and violent climax. The violence in Kick-Ass was more the variety of the infamous Matrix scene where Neo and Trinity walk into a guarded building and mow down everyone in sight—no set up, no tension, just a couple of people walking into a building and killing everything. The problem I have is that Neo and Trinity were in a computer shooting pixels, while Hit Girl and her dad, a.k.a. Big Daddy are in New York City mowing down humans. Now I realize this is a comic book movie and didn’t take so much issue with Watchmen, another graphic blood-fest. However, the issue with me is involving a child actor in this carnage which makes me wonder where the line is when it comes to children on the big screen. As I watched this admittedly entertaining gore-orgy I had to wonder to myself throughout: When did we get to a point where this passes for entertainment? And why am I aroused?

Okay, that last line was totally a joke… couldn’t resist. And with that, I’m done sermonizing and back to being the usual smartass. It’s Friday evening now and time for me to commence another weekend that will pass in a blink and crash into Monday. Next Friday is not a holiday so I expect to see you all again real soon. Until then…

Last Minute Replacement

I hate Windows Vista. Truly hate it. Not that Vista is wholly responsible for the thousand plus words describing my hellish week with a happy ending that disappeared entirely this morning when I carried my computer from my room where I spent the evening writing to my office where I would upload my fancy words onto the blogspot but Vista sure as shit didn’t do me any favors with the recovery process. That was the longest sentence I’ve ever written and there are absolutely no commas, dashes, or parentheses.

Anyway, it’s gone. A perfectly fine Friday evening was spent conveying frustrations of what was by far my longest and most stressful week and my small triumph over bureaucracy, but alas, it’s gone. It was quite long and not one time did I begin a sentence with the word “I” and I was quite happy with my work. The long treatise also contained a recap on last Saturday’s action where the now mighty Outkasts worked hard and endured 70+ scoreless minutes against the team that handed us our last and my only loss, a 6-2 drubbing nearly two months ago just before we turned the corner. To paraphrase my lost recap: I scored off a header in the 72nd minute to break the damn. Blind squirrel found acorn. The damn exploded and we scored three more in the closing minutes to win 4-0. Spirit of elated satisfaction after game. Excited about the game this afternoon. Soccer good, fire bad.

Starting last weekend and carrying over through this week—and still lingering—was a horrible cough that seems to always be going around. It was the first week of the new term and I had four new classes during the day and new evening classes. Needing to be prepared for this I wanted nothing more than to lie in bed and even contemplated quitting my job for that opportunity Monday and Tuesday morning. Not having the energy or time (I have a game here shortly and have to go but didn’t want to leave the blog empty over the weekend) to recap my daily absurd back and forth with administration, which is explained in great detail somewhere in this universe in a floating ether pocket, I’ll say three things. 1. The evening classes were disastrous due to poor communication (imagine that), lack of any support or curriculum and general confusion. 2. Despite being sick and exhausted I worked hard this week for the first time and actually felt, dare I say, stress. 3. In one of my many meetings with admin I asked for a definitive answer to a question I posed weeks back, a carefully planted seed involving vacation.

Really long story (and last night’s story was really long—you might thank the ether for making this week’s entry mercifully shorter) short, the week ended on a happy note. Turns out the seed sprouted into a beautiful flower and I am relieved of proctor duties during finals week so I can pursue my dream of climbing Mt Fuji with my old mountaineering partner of past blogs yonder who is still in Suwon. That’s right, I’m going to Japan in July! Having talked about this for years, the omp and I will conquer Japan’s tallest thanks to timing and administration finally conceding a request. I’ve wanted to do Japan every year I’ve been in Asia and it’s always eluded me somehow but NOT THIS TIME! It only sweetens the deal that I get to share this experience with an old friend who shares my love of hiking, outdoors, and food. Can’t wait to try the sushi!

The story was so much more eloquent and lengthy last night but alas, I’m short on time and ready to kick. Before I take off I would be remiss not to mention today’s festivities and how a frustrating and exhausting week ended with victory. Today is Saturday and I actually spent the day in the office, which I never do. Last time they asked me to I just said that it’s not in my contract to work Saturday’s and they haven’t asked me to come in since. However, today being Teacher’s Day, a Korean holiday honoring…yes, teachers, I thought it would be worth hanging around and it was more than well worth it. Our ubersweet students showered us with flowers and letters and performed a show of which I took no pictures. I know, I totally suck. Having been really pissed all day and frantically searching for my lost document, this took away the sting just a little. Then when administration handed me an envelope with money in it the sting went away completely and I decided to sit down and grind something out before I head out to score goals and conquer. In summary, Vista sucks, I had a rough week, it ended really well with a Japan trip and envelope with money in it, and Outkasts are playing this evening. Have a great weekend everyone!

Days late and a picture short.

It’s not Friday, it’s Tuesday. There was a mistaken notion that last week, since there were midterms and I had no classes that there would be a plethora of time at my disposal to work on the blog but somehow it ended up being a very busy week. I have no classes this week yet here I find myself busy again… actually working. Well, sort of.

Actually last week Monday and Tuesday was a wash after falling victim once again to my strange back nerve syndrome where I make a random movement, pinch a nerve in my lower back and am crooked and in pain for three days after. This particular movement happened in warm-ups during our game last Saturday, where the surging Outkasts were poised to take on the first place and undefeated Malaysian team that had beaten the ever-living bejeezus out of us in week one, not that I was there for that. This Outkast team, which had lost 24 straight games had won their last two and was a different team than the one that lost 11-4 in the season opener.

Long story short, we didn’t win. The opposing squad was nearly two hours late to the remote location and we were looking for the forfeit as I knew I was unable to move, much less run. However, my spirited new teammates wouldn’t take the easy way out and talked me into staying, and I did, of course. Since I couldn’t afford to stop moving and endure painful back spasms I opted to play the entire 90 minutes—but I didn’t and couldn’t play particularly well since I could barely move...not sure what my excuse normally is. We went down a goal, came back and leveled. Shortly after leveling we ceded goal number two and the chase continued until the 70th minute when we finally equalized again. Like the first time when we fought so hard to even the score we quickly gave up another, going down 3-2 late in the game. After narrowly missing several hard-earned chances there was a handball in the Malaysians’ box and the referee called a penalty kick in added time. Hmmm, I wonder who would be the choice to take the shot… Yeah, it was me. 3-3 tie, top shelf, an inch away from hitting the crossbar, and there was more a massive sigh of relief that gimpy didn’t blow another one over the bar and we lose the game than a celebration. After all that I couldn’t stand up straight until Tuesday, but I guess that’s not so much a long story short.

Wednesday it rained, because we had practice during the shittiest “spring” ever and we called it off. I had spent all day working on a curriculum for my new evening class starting next week. That’s right, starting next week the party’s over. I’ll be teaching a full schedule of sixteen classes per week and two in the evenings… okay, it’s not that bad but it will require preparation, which I’m still working on, obviously. Wednesday came and went but Thursday afternoon I would have plenty of time to work on my craft [sic], or so I hoped.

Before I get to Thursday’s activities I should digress and mention what had been going on during the mornings. Though I gave no midterms I was asked to proctor the exams which meant standing in the back of a classroom for an hour with my only entertainment being the wall, the clock that didn’t move and the sound of pencils moving… buh-roo-tal! That afternoon I was asked to help the other English teacher’s grade exams and sat down for about thirty seconds before I was summoned to go see Ironman 2 with my office team. Tough call: “Hey Chris, do you want to sit here and grade these insanely tedious sections of the exam a hundred times over or would you rather go see Ironman?” “Hmmmm, gee. Let me think…”. So Thursday afternoon I saw Im 2 and can say I enjoyed it and choose not to nitpick about the typical sequel flaws. That evening I had an appointment to get a haircut and a COUGH waxing COUGH and didn’t make it back home until late after opting to meet my good friend Pam in Itaewon for food after my COUGH gay manicure COUGH. Excuse me, something in my throat.

After carefully observing the process of paint drying for 2 hours Friday morning I had lunch and discovered that the exams were not magically graded while I was watching Ironman and spent part of the afternoon grading and the latter half talking to administration about the upcoming months and working on the syllabi for my new classes. Finally, for the first time since I showed up a week after classes started in March, I got some solid answers and direction. The guidance counselor Yeon Joo, who is the person I go to when I need things and fluent in English informed me that the students like me and the A-students, whom I have not been teaching, have requested to be in my class—hence the extra hours. More importantly, it also turns out we have a five week paid break coming up in July and I am guaranteed at least ten days off!! If I am required to teach or choose to stay through the rest of the break (we’re not sure if I have to, can, or might be able to yet) I’ll get extra compensation. My evening classes coming up will nearly double my pay so I can start sending home some nice chunks of Korean won. Also I found out that there is a five week winter break as well starting January 1st. In short, this job is getting better and better.

With all of this vacation time there may even be some pictures. I saw a complaint that I wasn’t posting any and there are a couple of reasons for this. First, I am terrible about taking pictures and don’t particularly like my camera. I feel this has all been seen and done before and never was a big fan of taking pictures of people—I prefer landscapes, architecture, etc. Also the sky has been so hazy all of the time and the weather been so gloomy that I don’t want to remember this when and if it ever passes over. But secondly and more importantly I don’t want to feel I need to rely on pictures to post something new. My last blog died off after I ran out of interesting pictures to comment on and I want this to be more about my writing [sic] than photo journalism. Not to say there will never be any pictures, but most weeks my pictureless words will have to be endured. Being happy to get back into the blog business after a long hiatus, part of the purpose of this thing, other than to wildly entertain and inform, is to discipline myself to write something every week. Therefore you now have my apologies for not posting last Friday and I hope my explanation will appease your extreme anger. Until this Friday, take care everybody!

No man is an island...

except for this one. Perhaps I’ve been watching too much Lost but lately I’ve had this distinct feeling of isolation as if I am on an island by my lonesome out here. While it can be humorous, odd, or even a little maddening at times being totally out of the loop and the last person to find out EVERYTHING, this island, unlike the cold, overcast gloomy mid-April “spring” weather I have been bitching incessantly about on facebook, can be quite warm and sunny in the middle of a tumultuous ocean.


Knowing full well coming into this job that I’d be the only foreign teacher at this school there was no expectation that this would be a situation like my previous hogwan position where I was among friends and westerners and we ran the school. The job itself has surpassed expectations but is also odd in how I do so little compared to the other teachers. As you all know, I teach English “conversation” 12 hours a week. I give no homework, no tests, no grades, and have no stress when it comes to the job. I am expected to be in or around the office or my classroom from 8-5 Monday through Friday but am given little or no responsibility outside of preparing for and conducting my 12 classes in whatever manner I see fit.


As I write this sitting here on a Friday afternoon the other teachers are in their weekly meeting, which I am excused from. I went to the last three meetings until the principal asked me if I understood anything they were saying, to which I said: “Ummmm, not really.”. Thankfully Principal Kim used a form of common sense rarely seen in a Korean school or bureaucracy and said: “You don’t need to be here and waste your time.” Hallelujah brother!!! Trust me, the other teachers were just as bored in those meetings as I was but have to go every week because they speak Korean.


Because they are Korean, speak Korean, and are obviously fluent in Korean the other teachers are required to fill out an inordinate amount of paperwork on each student due to the complex ranking system in Korean education. Instead of A’s, B’s, C’s and so forth there is a 1-8 class ranking where the students compete against each other for the opportunity to rank high, low or somewhere in-between and from their ranking get the opportunity to go to Seoul university, work in a restaurant or something in-between. The teachers, needing face time in the office to prove they are hard-working show up at or before 7am and don’t leave until… well, much later--I’m always out of there at 5:00 on the dot and wouldn’t know. Being a foreigner, I am not trusted to give grades or file paperwork, not that I could anyway because it’s in Korean, of course. While everyone around me is up to their ears in bureaucratic duties I am finding ways to occupy 5 or 6 office hours a day planning for 2 or 3 classes, a process I covered in detail last week.


There are classes here every other Saturday and all of the teachers have to come in, except for… you guessed it. Last Saturday I had a game at 12:30 and the vice-principal, unaware that I am not contractually obligated to work Saturdays wondered why I wasn’t in the office. I received a call and was sweating the idea that I might be late to or, God forbid, miss my game. So I went straight to the principal’s assistant, who talked to the principal. The point was that I have no club activities nor could I, no classes, and nothing to do. Like the meeting, common sense won and I was excused from coming in on Saturdays.


Next week is mid-terms and there is an air of tension and apprehensiveness amongst teachers and students alike. The weekend will be bustling as the students prepare like Korean students for their mid-terms and the teachers make last-minute adjustments to their tests. My duty next week, other than having no classes and having to hang out in the office or my classroom, is to supervise the students while they take their exams. This means I stand in the room and watch to make sure they don’t cheat for two hours each day. I can’t make any noise, can’t read, the ipod is out of the question and this is my only contribution to the entire midterm process. Having absolutely nothing to do during this time I’m sure I’ll space out and daydream of my vacation the following week… perhaps I’ll visit an island.

A Little Nitty-Gritty Day to Day

Six weeks down and it’s still freezing here in the castle. The weeks have been absolutely flying by and one weekend runs directly into the next in a blink of an eye. Perhaps routine has something to do with that and I have little to report this week. What is routine for me however, would be of possible interest to those who haven’t worked in a private high school next to a mountain in Korea… are there any of those out there? While there is no linear storyline this week or coherent thought I thought I’d share some random happenings that are the kinds of things that make this typical procedure… uhhhh, atypical?

The students here are so overwhelmed with homework it’s astonishing. It’s not just this school but commonplace for high school students all over Korea. My pupils are zombies, plain and simple.

Typical conversation:
“How are you?”
“I’m tired (or sleepy)”.
“Why so sleepy?”
“So many homeworks.”
“So….. MUCH homeWORK. Homework is like rice, water, paper, or cheese. It’s a non-count noun and is never pluralized.”
[BLINK BLINK, BLINK BLINK]
“Nevermind, carry on.”

An atypical conversation:
“How are you?”
“I’m great!”
“REALLY? Great! How come?”
[BLINK BLINK, BLINK BLINK]
“Why?”
“Teacher today I feel no stress because I blow off my homework!”
“Well said!! I’m very glad you used a phrase I taught you! Just remember I taught you to SAY that, not to DO that! AND use the past ‘blew off’!”
Next phrase I teach that kid is “down-low”, as in to keep that blow off your homework stuff on. Dear lord, what am I teaching these kids??!! Good thing they love it.

While these “conversation” classes take up about 12 hours out of my 40 hour work week the rest of the time is spent diligently preparing lesson plans. This requires countless hours of research where I scour the news for interesting stories, watch online television shows searching for new phrases, download music in hope of finding a useful song for the classroom and doing the random stumbleupon for hours on end waiting for that perfect lesson plan to pop up. When I’m not steadfastly working on the perfect lesson plan I am able to find a little time to check my e-mail, facebook, MLB box scores, and read a few movie reviews… nice to be able to surf the internet a little bit at work.

When I finish in the evening at five there’s little to do in the neighborhood. Luckily I have a full fitness center and weight room on premises which is completely empty in the evenings and free for me to use. I’ll work out four or five evenings a week and go to bed after a long day of grueling lesson planning. The only evening that is different is Wednesday, when I go into the city for soccer practice and beers and food afterward, which is the perfect way to break up the week. Monday and Tuesday is the usual routine looking forward to Wednesday. Thursday is a blur because of the after practice festivities and then Friday comes where I teach two classes and write the blog. Last thing to happen during the week is the teachers meeting, where I sit in a room and lesson plan on my laptop while a bunch of people speak Korean. Then, just like that, another weekend is staring me right in the face and another week went by faster than the time it took the six of you to read this.

Why is Korea not flat?

Korea is a strange place. For so many reasons there are these little things that happen here that are funny, ridiculous, infuriating, and downright goofy. Seeing how the week after week, weekend after weekend monotony so far has not produced any real linear stories I’ll talk about some of the weird idiosyncrasies (anyone who has spent time here can tell you there are far more than a few) that have stuck out so far. These are some things that maybe I had forgotten about in my time away either by choice or through the normalcy of life back home.

In a city with eleven million people crammed into a relatively small space one might think it would be imperative to pay attention to where one is going. Not so, not so, not so. I am constantly amazed that there aren’t flattened Koreans all over the sidewalks as no one watches where the hell they’re going! Not only are they completely, and I mean COMPLETELY oblivious to their surroundings but they also will suddenly change directions without looking to see if anyone is coming. You would think in a crowded city on a sidewalk with people walking, running (yes, Koreans love to run through crowds), riding bicycles, and motor scooters (that’s right, on the sidewalks) that it might be important to say, glance over one’s shoulder before making a sudden turn in the opposite direction.

Last weekend I was riding my bike down the sidewalk and there was a little boy standing on the far right side of the sidewalk facing the building. Having years of experience navigating these sidewalks on The Falcon I knew instinctively that this child would walk directly into my path, even though I was riding on the far left. As I came within 20 feet of the kid he jumped backwards as far as he could, never looking around to see if there was a scooter or say, a person on a bicycle coming, directly into the path of my bike. Knowing somehow this would happen I braked and steered around him, shaking my head as I passed the oblivious should-be-flat boy.

This isn’t exclusive to children here, though--the adult children know no better. Later that day there was a young woman who walked out of a store, straight across the very busy sidewalk, directly into my path, of course. Not only did she never look in my direction at all—I was coming directly at her—she actually walked toward me, head pointing opposite direction, absolutely oblivious as I slammed on my brakes and skidded, narrowly avoiding hitting her. Even as I yelled: “Holy SH*T!!! Watch where you’re going!!!” after nearly wrecking my bike trying to avoid running her over, she still took no notice and never even turned her head. It is a living video game riding a bike down a sidewalk with so many bizarre obstacles and people that seem to instinctively move towards the path of oncoming traffic but somehow walk away unscathed and completely unaware of how close they came to getting run over.

Speaking of getting run over, a fellow teacher and I were discussing a bizarre situation when it comes to traffic laws here. Although unaware to other pedestrians, scooters, and bikes as I just explained, Koreans are really aware of crosswalks. I have never seen a Korean cross the street when there is a don’t walk signal even if there is absolutely no traffic at all. They will wait for the green walk signal no matter how slow the street is and do not infract on this rule at any time. However, when they get behind the wheel of a car a red light becomes not a rule but an arbitrary suggestion. So the pedestrians can wait all they want for the green signal but it is common and almost expected for someone to blow through the red light in their automobile. But then again, somehow, miraculously, there are no flat Koreans.

Oh, the small ironies in this country. I remember the time when I lived in Suwon and I shook my head perpetually for 65 straight days. How is it that a kid can solve complex math equations and spend his/her whole life studying yet lacks the common sense to look before crossing. How does a person who earlier in the day spent five minutes waiting at a crosswalk completely ignore a red light and try to beat a pedestrian through a similar crosswalk? These logic-defying enigmatic behaviors and many other like it can do a couple of things to a person: Infuriate them or make them laugh. I’ve been taking the route of shaking my head, laughing, and saying: “Oh, Korea!”.

Dreary and Happy: A Rant and a Random Note

Big shock. It’s raining outside. It’s rainy, cold, and as shitty as it’s been nearly every day I’ve been here. Why is it so shitty outside? Because I have something to do, that’s why. Today I have soccer practice for the third Wednesday in a row. The first practice it snowed, the second week it was forty degrees, and today… of course. When it isn’t raining or snowing here there is a yellow dust storm that makes the snow, cold, and rain seem like paradise comparably. What the h-e-double hockey sticks??? It will be April tomorrow and I have seen one sunny day in over three weeks. That was Sunday and it got up to a whopping 55 degrees. The extended forecast for the next week: cold and cloudy with a high of 14 degrees Celsius. Now I don’t know what this Celsius business means but I know what it doesn’t mean: It doesn’t mean it’s going to be warm!!! I’m starting to think that my plane crashed in the ocean and I’m in purgatory, where it’s spring but never warm and never nice. It’s cold and dreary every single morning I wake up and frankly (in case you didn’t notice) it’s making me batshit crazy. I’m really beginning to wonder if spring will ever arrive, because I haven’t seen the slightest hint of it yet.
Okay, sorry I had to rant and get that off my chest…
It’s not all bad here besides having the shittiest March weather of all time. Actually, things are going quite well. Last week was my birthday and the principal bought a big lavish cake. He called me into the teachers room and all the teachers were gathered around the cake to sing “Happy birthday”. It was very sweet, flattering, embarrassing, and creepy all at the same time. My best birthday present came a week later however when my bike arrived from Pohang.
I had bought my bike in 2006 after visiting Gyeongju, where I rented a bike and rode around the city for two days (see http://suwonteacher.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_archive.html). After returning to Suwon I had taken out a large sum of money from my bank to take to the exchange bank to transfer to my American account. On the way to the bank, large sum of cash on hand, I passed a bike shop, stopped, turned back, walked in and bought the Falcon. Now I should say that I blew a ton of money foolishly in my first tenure in Korea but this bike was a huge exception. In the long run the bike paid for itself several times over in the money I saved on taxis, not to mention the exercise it provided. When I went home I left her behind and it became one of the biggest, if not the biggest, regrets I had about leaving Korea.
Thankfully, I left her with Tom, my neighbor, co-worker, goalie, and friend. In the time that I had been away Tom stayed in Korea but moved far south to Pohang, where he left the bike after he moved back to Seoul, just a few weeks ago. Well, bless Tom’s fuzzy warm heart for agreeing to have the bike shipped back north to my school. He contacted the person he left the bike with and I eagerly awaited my bike’s arrival for the last ten days. Ideally, it would have been here on my birthday, yet ideally it wouldn’t snow four times in March either. Finally, two days ago I got a phone call from a random Korean and knew that was the delivery driver. The Falcon arrived at 1:00 Monday afternoon, filthy from the yellow dust and her tires were flat. That evening I took her down to the bike shop and had them clean and tune her up. Now she is as radiant and beautiful as ever and I can’t wait to take her down to the Han River Park on Sunday. What do you want to bet the weather is going to suck that day?

It’s Friday, week 2. Just taught first period and have my next class at 2:00. First period is at 8:00 by the way. So I have the next five hours to come up with a lesson plan for my next class.

Wait, got it. Done.

Now what do I do to kill time at my desk? Yesterday I watched Lost when I wasn’t downloading music or chatting with friends. Now I’m slaving away on the blog while simultaneously chatting with my old buddy Hoki, a carry-over from the Suwonville days. This work schedule of 8-5 Monday through Friday with 12 classes a week is a nice change from the old grind of the hogwan.

Not that the hogwan I worked at was a difficult job—far from it. Our American boss, Haji, saw to it that my job was as easy and stress free as possible compared to other academies. For those not in the know hogwans are private after-school academies where native English speaking trained monkeys “teach English” to children of various ages, abilities, and levels of interest. I had run the gauntlet of teaching small kids abc’s to teaching adults business English. Some classes were rewarding, some challenging, some ridiculous and others downright infuriating.

The crux of the hogwan position is the fact that the students (or in most cases, their parents) are paying customers and there is always pressure to entertain so as not to draw complaints. While Talkster (the uber-gay name that Haji gave our academy in Suwon) was relatively supportive of the teachers and tended to take their side there was still a touch of the pins and needles sensation of needing to please the unpleasable. Some students just didn’t want to be there and weren’t going to learn English no matter what. At too many academies these students can go home and complain to their parents, who are paying for the services of a foreigner force-feeding their unwilling child English. Too often the hogwan owner (the person making money from the paying customers) takes the side of the unhappy student. As for me, my complaint department was located a couple of feet south of my face around the corner.

It feels good to not teach for a business these days. Yes, I’m sure I can and will find something about this gig that gets my proverbial goat but I won’t have to worry about motivation from the students or complaints from parents. One, the students went through a rigorous application process to get the opportunity to study here thus they are very serious and driven to succeed. Two, the students live in dormitories here and rarely see their parents. Our mission is education here, not making a buck. After all, we’re funded by one of the biggest banks in Korea so money is not a big concern. And if a student is unhappy and wants to leave there will be another eager to take his or her spot.

Earlier I mentioned the grind of the hogwan. Typically I worked 5-6 hours every evening Monday through Friday which is a light load for most academies. These hours consisted of teaching consecutive classes of various levels with ten minute breaks between. Along with several other teachers we would finish at 9:00 and typically get dinner and drinks. This devolved into a cycle of staying up until 3am or later most evenings and sleeping until 1 the next day. After a few years of this my health had spiraled to a point where, well, basically I had turned into a big fat f**k. I had decided that if I ever returned to Korea, and when I left that was a HUGE if, I wanted to work a normal schedule where I have evenings off and work in the mornings to keep me out of trouble during the week.

Well, I did return… to the surprise of most of my friends. I got the schedule I wanted and so far, so good. Yes, it’s a little boring going to bed before 11 every evening but boring these days is good. As Frankenstein so eloquently put one time: “Boring GOOD. Fire BAD.” I still have the weekends to stir up trouble and find things of interest around Seoul. I have already found a new soccer team (more on that later, of course) and will get my old bike back soon. Spring will eventually arrive and there will be pictures and much rejoicing.

It is now 1:45 and nearly time for my second and last class of the day. For those keeping score, that’s eight hours and two classes. If I slack on the blog this time around you all have my permission to fly to Korea and smack me over the head with a big stinky fish, which can be purchased at the outdoor market right down the street. Being in the situation I’m in now, I’m not afraid of that happening any time soon. Until next time, my four readers…

Spring Cleaning

Cobwebs.

Once I wrote and it was easy. There was a blog and it was reasonably entertaining and enjoyed by many (figuratively speaking) on the other side of the world. It was a regular occurrence, this blog. Some looked forward to it, some left comments, some glanced at the pictures and moved on, but all were puzzled when it mysteriously ceased to exist.

Why?

What happened to the Suwonteacher and why did he disappear? Where the hell did he go? Why the hell am I referring to myself in the third person? And what the hell do cobwebs have to do with anything?

Well, I’ll answer the latter question presently, but the formers will be answered in time… or forgotten about altogether. BLANK. My head goes through phases where I blank out completely now. There are small remnants of sharp, clear thinking that is required for writing, yet they are buried beneath the ummmmmm, cobwebs? When something sits for so long without being used it is bound to gather dust so now it is time to clean out the attic and get to work.
But, wait a second… I am at work. I’m sitting at my office desk. I just glanced out the window and there’s a snow-covered mountain outside. This office is clean, new, and state-of-the-art. I’m the only foreigner in the entire facility—and it’s a HUGE facility. I’m still in a daze, waiting to wake up from this weird dream. Did I just say snow-covered mountain? It’s MARCH! I must be dreaming, because one year ago I said I would never return to Korea. Whether this is a dream or not, there is no doubt about this: I am definitely back in Korea… and happy about it.

The daze set in again. It comes in waves and overwhelms at times. I can’t attribute this particular daze to the cobwebs, however. [BLANK STARE. BLINK BLINK] This particular brain cloud is a product of being two days removed from a journey that started at 3:45am Saturday morning in St Louis and ended up in Seoul, South Korea three airports and 26 hours later. Arrival time at Hana Academy Seoul: Sunday 8:45pm. First class: Monday 10am. I hate to use the words “brutal” and “merciless” but [BLINK BLINK] ummmmmmmm…. Forgot what I was saying...

The saving grace for me the first couple of days was the students and teachers, who are amazing, and the facilities--even better. This particular high school is privately owned and operated by Hana Bank and is very exclusive. The students had to apply and for every one accepted seven and one half were rejected. I kinda feel sorry for the ones that were chopped in half—poor dumb dead bastards. The students that made the cut (nothing to do with the last sentence) did so because they have talent and are serious about their studies. The facilities here are first-class and the school is nestled on the north side of Bukhansan (san=mountain.) There are windows everywhere and a beautiful mountain view in nearly every room. Having these things, I didn’t mind the jet-lag so much and made it through my first day of classes unscathed.

The second day came and went with more of the same. I woke up and the mountain was outside my window. I went to class and the students were great. I started an afternoon class where I tutor other teachers who aren’t as strong in English and am enjoying our interaction. The faculty overall have been extremely friendly and I’ve enjoyed dining with them in the cafeteria, where they provide three meals a day (Two, actually. I do a protein shake for breakfast.).

Have I landed in some sort of teaching Utopia?? No. I’ve landed in Korea. There will be challenges this year and I’m sure there will be times where my patience will be pushed to the limits. However, I am way ahead of where I was the first go-around and light years away from my dank, crummy apartment in Suwon. And most importantly, I’ve begun to dust off the cobwebs.