Wow!

This really hits home. Read this! While white, hopefully I don't boast about my spirtual enlightenment. At least I'm in the entrepreneurial category, so screw the innovators!

Man, this is an even better one! I don't know how many times I have seen overly excited Korean's ask me in their native tongue if I speak Korean. I of course say, "조금" or "jo keum" which means a little. Without hesitation, these Korean's will rapid fire a response that is way beyond my meagor comprehension, and then I will have to stare at them blankly. They understand this stare. The exictement on their face vanishes and is replaced with a look that can be best described as a look a seven year old boy has when he learns that his puppy ate his dad's penny loafer and choked to death. Utterly disappointed, the Korean might try a last ditch effort to communicate with me in Korean, once that attempt fails, we both stare at eachother and wonder what to do next.

I have never promised to learn Korean, although almost everybody that comes to Korea does promise to learn it, and the majority of them are white.

The World's Fattiest Foods

The World's Fattiest Foods look unsurprisingly delicious.

Knowledge that You need

Who Knew? Would you eat this stuff, I know I would, but I would have to go with the bag technique first just to hear the "pitter, patter" sound. Then I would pop it straight in the mouth, of course I would be conscious of the symptoms including bloody diarrhea.

The Lunar Holiday

The Lunar holiday is a big deal in Korea as well as China. I have a book on Korean culture, and Korea is the only nation in the world where approximately 70% of its population travels domestically, by car, on one holiday. That holiday happens to be, drum roll please.... The Lunar Holiday. Naturally, we're driving. Actually, we're going to hop on a bus that will drive us to Phoenix Park. We're going to brave the crazy crowds*, and the crowded highways to go skiing.

*In heavily congested areas of the highway, the Korean government has put in Johnny on the Spots to accommodate the traffic jams. Can you imagine going to a Johnny on the side of a highway? The traffic must be horrendous...

We signed up with the group called Adventure Korea again, because we had such a good experience two weeks ago. This is going to be a 4 day trip. We will really get up into the mountains on day three and four and will "be overwhelmed with natural beauty" according to their website. I'll be sure and take pictures.

On days 1 and 2, we'll be hitting the slopes. I can't wait to test my ski legs again. It's been a while. This should be a jammed pack weekend of great times, and I'm very excited.


This Tuesday represented a unique opportunity that very few people back home had, because I was in foreign soil. At 2:00 in the morning, in a little place I frequent often, called Seoul Pub, Barack Obama was getting inaugurated back in Washington DC and a whole lot of excitement was in the air at this bar. Seoul Pub just so happens to be in the foreign district of Seoul, so there were people from all over the world rooting and cheering for our new prez. Say what you want about his politics, but Obama is a star and has gotten people excited both domestically and abroad. Two 6 foot 6 Frenchman were chanting, "Yes We Can" and I thought they hated* us. The excitement in that bar was hard to believe, and even harder to describe. It was closer to a sporting event than a political one; we couldn't hear his speech it was so loud with chants and other banter. Yet, it made for one hell of a boring sporting event since my team lost in the first round, (Ron Paul) and there was not a whole lot of action, so, in the midst of all this excitement and Pro-American behavior, I left early**.

* I have never seen Zach look like a small guy, but with these two giants towering over him; Zach looked small. Eventually one leaned down and kissed Zach on the cheek (or the top of the head I forgot), and I don't know if Zach was flattered or pissed. He could of been flattered because that's just what those crazy Europeans do, in particular the French, or was he pissed because a DUDE just kissed him. I dunno and I certainly have no idea why he kissed him...

** You know to beat the traffic...

The New Computer

I got a new computer on Sunday. This has been long overdue, and I'm sorry for all the time I spent borrowing other people's computer. As one roommate put it, "I'm glad I whore my computer to the whole house." I haven't had my own computer since an AIM messenger virus killed my last one 2 1/2 years ago. In the last two years, a lot of technology has passed me by, and I'm very eager to check it all out so if you have any cool gadgets, tricks, or sites please comment below.





So I've been trying to convince Meg to write a post, but she's too busy. I'll step up to the plate for her. Her facial expression in this picture is tell all. Here is what she was thinking:


"I've gotten one! YES!!! That was the most miserable thing in my life, but I GOT ONE! Where's Chris, I have to show him the fish that I caught with my blue, on the verge of frost bitten hands. OH YEAH, that little pansy left during the first wave of cowards! He talks so much trash, but can't back it up. Oh my, I'm freezing, but this was so worth it."



Yes, that pretty much sums up what was going on in Meg's head. Calling me out, which, I deserve.




After the miserableness they call barehanded fishing, we headed out to our sleeping accommodation, and for the first time in my life I felt like a refugee. (insert your shower joke here, can we move on? Are you finished?) Tired, cold, and beat down from the day's festivities (I'm staring at you ice soccer) we took a bus to our cabin campground. There were about 60 foreigners spilt up in two buses. We headed for the mountains, but remember this was a frosty weekend. The roads were so icy, so the bus could not take us to our cabins.

The tour guide told us to grab our stuff, because we had to walk for "seven minutes" up the mountain to our cabin. I just woke up too, and it was pitch black and I was in the f-ing mountains. Confused, I totally thought that this was normal. What's a 7 minute walk anyway?


Well, that 7 minutes quickly turned into 25 minutes. 25 minutes of wondering where the hell am I, and where the hell am I going to lay my head tonight. All of us were just so physically drained that we looked like a pack of refugee's in the mountains. We were endlessly climbing up this steep, narrow, curvy gravel road, while holding everything we owned. It was such a alien sight, and I felt like a refugee.


Maybe even more amazing was the actual pitch black. I haven't seen actual darkness in my six months of living in Seoul. With all these damn neon signs, it's impossible. My apartment is very similar to Kramer's situation in New York, only sub Kenny Roger's Chicken with a place called Mr. Lonely. I think you know what Mr. Lonely is... (besides a place I frequent very often...)













So in the seclusion of mountains, I got the peace of actual darkness. The rest of the night was spent around a bonfire drinking, eating pulled pork, roasting marshmallows, and the normal debates like, "Yes, I agree your football should be called FOOTBALL, but that doesn't make it anymore exciting and certainly not better than my football." or "You say brilliant just like we say awesome, if we ruined the word awesome, then you have certainly ruined brilliant."

The next day brought sunshine and one hell of a hike. This hike was explained to us as moderate, but it was anything but moderate. The grade was steep as hell, and the snow was packed down so far that it was just a solid sheet of ice. The hike was so strenuous that I sweated more than john Roe even in the midst of Attic weather. And, the only way to go down the steep mountain was on your arse. Once again the facial expression says it all.







I was thinking, "Holy shit this fun, but oh my God, my tailbone was fractured from ice soccer yesterday, and SHIT!! Mommy?"



















-This picture is the only photo evidence of my plunge into the frigid waters. I'm all the way on the left, no doubt hating myself for the dumb decision that I just made.

The Ice Fishing Festival

A mere five days ago Meg and I were in a fierce battle with the elements, if my Internet skills were better I would paste the temperature for January 10, 2009 right here, but they aren’t so you are going to have to trust me. The thermometer read a frigid -10 degrees Celsius. Despite chilly temps, last weekend was everything I thought it was going to be and more.



After the 6 am wakeup call wore off, we met many wonderful people on our 3 hr. bus trip eastnorth. Over 70% of the people were from Canada though, which is usually an ominous sign. Not this time though, yet we did have a Canadian soundtrack for the entire trip, complete with such bands as Barenaked Ladies, Nickleback, and my personal favorite Rush. Luckily, Celine Dion was not played; if she was I would have ended my life. I probably would have gone with a swan dive off the bus into fast moving oncoming traffic as Meg shouts out "I'll never let go Jack, I mean Chris".* These guys were great though, probably because they weren’t from Quebec like Dion. Upon arrival, we were promptly greeted with a photo shoot and given some fishing poles. The poles were some cheap plastic things. When I say cheap I mean c-h-e-a-p. There was no reel and the lure was awful. But ice fishing is on my life to do list, so I was fired up to catch some fish regardless of a horrible pole.



*Canadians know a lot about American history, dare I say more than many Americans. For example, I asked one fellow from Toronto during a trivia contest who shot and killed Hamilton, without blinking he answered Burr. Wow! On the other side of the coin, I couldn't even tell you how many provinces are in Canada. I know your quick response is, "Who cares? Canada doesn't matter. There's a reason why they know our history." Hogwash. We should know more about our northern, socialist cousins.

We quickly scouted out a nice hole, surrounded by thousands of other fishermen. Vacationing in Korea is a tricky situation, as I am sure that you can imagine, there's an overpopulation problem here in Korea. At first these crowds scared me, but now I have grown custom to it. I was absolutely undaunted by this crowd, in fact it hardly even bothered me.


By the way, we were on a frozen river trying to catch mountain trout. Underneath the ice, the river was crystal clear, which allowed me to get on my belly and get great visuals of the trout. Because there were .5 million people fishing in the river, the festival guys would stock it every couple of hours or so, literally dumping hundreds upon hundreds of fish in the river. We happened to start as they were dumping fish in 25 feet away from us. I would see these sneaky bastards swim right up to my lure and swim away. There were a lot of fish, and people all around us were catching fish using a snag method, pretty much just pulling the rod up hard and hoping to get lucky and hook a fish anywhere. It seemed to be working because I saw a lot of fish with enormous stab wounds to the belly.



Most of the time you can’t see the fish when you’re fishing, instead you feel them when they nibble or bite your bait. Seeing them is way more frustrating. They would examine “the world’s worst lure” and think to themselves, “Wow that one didn’t even fool me for a second, I didn’t even hesitate. I have been in this river for like ten minutes and I think I’m going to make it. These idiots and their horrible technology and weak budgets need to open the checkbook a little more!” Just as the poor fish laughs at my lure some Korean girl around the age of five with a triple headed hook monster snags the S.O.B. right in the gut. Then she mocks me as I’m face down peering into the river. She's literally pointing at the pile of fish she’s caught. This was in my first thirty minutes, so she could have been there awhile to my defense.

Because Meg and I are white, in Korea, and if I do say so myself an extremely attractive couple, we were asked to be in a photo shoot using fish from a bucket. They setup these living prop fish on our little chintzy rods and asked us to look surprised. The result:
























Even in my most bizarre fantasies, fantasies that I can bend time and warp back to the past, fantasies when I happen to be dominating survivor, or fantasies that I can have any job in the world, I have never fantasized being an actor. I know that it could never happen. I could have any superpower in the world, but I could never win an Oscar. Anything in Imagination Land is fair game but acting. My sub-conscience would tell it this way, “Hey, I know we usually get a little crazy here, I mean yesterday we founded Facebook as a 17 year old Harvard undergrad telling Mark Zuckenburg to piss off, but acting COME ON! We can’t get that crazy, not even in your wildest dreams.” So seeing my face on these pictures really affirms what a colossal failure I would be at acting. I really felt stupid posing for these pics as well. Yes, pics as PICS, pics as in plural, pics as in they took one hundred bleeping photos of us doing different poses.



But they did give us the two prop fish that were riding coach on RyanAir straight to hell. So, in an effort to end their lives as quick as possible, we ate them. We took them to a grilling area, bashed their heads in, and grilled them. We also met three great friends. These guys knew a little English. Ming-Young, the guy with the stocking hat with a ball on top of it, (cute I know) was celebrating his birthday with his best friend and his girlfriend. I hope we added a nice touch, because they were ABSOLUTELY AWESOME to us. Our grill table was having so much fun that others were wanting to get in on the action. People would offer (and we would accept) pork, kimchi, rice cakes, and mushrooms to hang out with our table. It was a glorious hour and a half, and I really hope to see these guys again.























After three bottles of soju, a belly full of delicious fish, and three new friends, Meg and I set off for the next adventure; ice soccer. I still have bruises; I should probably leave it at that, but I can’t resist going into a bit more detail. For about 1 hour, I fell on my ass. Right at the beginning, within the first 15 seconds, the puck was out in front of me and I fearlessly ran to go get it encouraged by the three bottles of soju. Next thing I know, my legs are out from underneath me, and I’m on my back re-evaluating the whole situation. Breathing was very hard at this point, so I got to take a few seconds to evaluate my peers. Ice Soccer might as well of been called Icecapaids with all the Canadians playing. They grow up on this slippery shit; I hope they can get around on it. But yeah, they were pulling flying V’s and other hockey strategies. They were good, and me and this fellow from New York were not: (that is me with a coat on kick saving a would be goal fyi)


















With each fall, a little soju would be worked off, and then I was sober. This was not the plan, if you remember. I needed to be liquored up to conquer the cold water that was in 15 minutes. The frozen ice pounded the drunkenness out of me.* But like a soldier marching to the worst situation of his life, I continued towards the bare hand fishing. And it was the worst thing in my life...



I'm facing a hairy frog here, because Bare Hand Fishing was awful. Picture this, an audience of a couple hundred people cheering you on, but you don't want to be cheered on; what you want is to go back to the locker room, and put your clothes back on and wish that you never signed up for this crazy shit. They put our group around a ring of ice, and then waited for like ten minutes to let us jump in, but we were wearing just a shirt and shorts in -10 degrees Celsius. That was awful enough, then we jumped in and my life was taken to another level of hurt. Pain. Pain. Pain. My body wouldn't function. My legs barely worked and my hands certainly weren't going to be grasping any slippery trout. In fact, this is what I was thinking, "I got to get out. I got to get out. What the hell am I walking on? Is this gravel? They put gravel in this tank, as if the artic water wasn't enough. I got to get out of here. SHIT! I can't be the first one out. Hell No, say what ever you want to about me, but I have never been the first one out of any group activity. Ever. Shit, I hope Meg doesn't catch a fish. Okay good there are other people getting out. "

Even in extraordinary pain, funny exchanges occur like this one:

British guy: I'm outta here
Korean Supervisor: You have to catch one fish
British: Oi! MOVE!
Korean supervisor: okay, okay

Of course the Oi! made that funny. So I hopped out of that tank (after about 45 seconds, 0 fish, and I was around the 7th person out of there) and headed towards the locker room hoping my shins weren't going to break like a frozen icicle, because they felt like they were cracking with every step. I got naked and huddled around the heater and the British guy, but mainly the British guy. I watched my blue legs turn back to the normal color of flesh and decided to head outside. Meg was one of like 7 foreingers to catch a damn fish, and I'm leaving it at that.


































I'm going to try and convince Meg to post on her experience. Look for that to come out soon.

The Weekend

I have great and exciting news*, Meg and I are attending an Ice Fishing Festival 3 hours eastnorth** of Seoul. Here is the official website. I especially like this part, "Among the side events planned are ice skating, ice sledding, snow sledding, snow castle building, snow sculptures, bobsledding, ice tubing, ice bumper cars, ice biking, snowman photo exhibits, sledding classes, ice soccer, an “ice train” and more."

* I did a load of laundry last night taking a bite out of the workload. As they say, Rome wasn't built in a day...I decided my mess wasn't getting cleaned in a day either.


**I just coined this phrase east north three minutes ago. We are primarily heading east, so I thought why not honor East as the main cardinal direction of our voyage, hence eastnorth.


(Here is what Korean's call the ice tunnel, foreigners call it the Death Tunnel, because there is no way that you can make it through the tunnel without falling at least twice.)






I love sledding, and I think that bobsledding is going to take this love to another level. And how much fun does ice bumper cars sound? We signed up with a group and the cost is only 80 dollars including lodging, transportation, and meals!

Ice fishing was actually on the Life-To-Do list, so I get to cross this off in a big way. Actually, I'm still thinking about Canada for ice fishing. I just know there is going to be a hundred thousand people on this River ice fishing, which is not exactly what I had in mind for my ideal ice fishing experience, (nature, solitude, beauty) but I am very excited to go on this trip.

This part scares me though.





This is a picture of an underground tank filled up with frigid water and trout. The object is to jump in the water and grab as many of the trout as you can. The catch is that the water is freezing making every bodily movement you try useless, and you're wearing shorts, and the fish are slimy. And I HATE cold water.





Story Time
The Irish are tough, and they know they are tough. They have had to deal with more hardships than any other Western European nation, so they are calloused to pain. They also like to tell you that YOU"RE not tough. My boss told me that I couldn't swim in the Irish Sea. He said I was too skinny, and I was too delicate to handle the cold temperatures. He bet me 50 quid that I wouldn't do it.






















Well, I did.

And it was AWFUL. I was miserable. Meg asked me how it was, and I couldn't even muster a WORD! I was so cold or something that I couldn't talk. My legs felt like they were full of cement, and I thought I might die. Then, Meg jumps in and swims around like a mermaid having the time of her life. Emasculated, I didn't even want to collect from my boss that called me a wuss and was right. So, yeah, I absolutely hate cold water and am counting on soju to help brave the tank of death. Mark my words*, I will catch more fish than Meg, and finally restore my manliness.

*Sounds like a dare Harry

The Lazy Man

Here's a visual of the man behind the infamous attempted wig stealing:

(of course I had to find the most ridiculous picture, but I must say he certainly looks like a man that would drop his pants in an arcade without being accused)

I'm going to tell you something that you may or may not know about me; I happen to be one of the laziest men in Seoul. Seoul's population is over 20 million people, so I'm defiantly in contention for laziest man in the world, right? But my laziness is cyclical, and right now I happen to be in a rut or a recession if you will.* It all started when I got sick, or should I trace it all the way back to when Meg's friends arrived from America? Whatever the case may be, my closet has thrown up all over my room. Literally just spewing dirty clothes everywhere. My bag of laundry is overflowing, and I have used the same towel to dry off for about two months. It's so bad that if I go 1 more day, I'm going to have to find the least dirty pair of drawers I have and wear them inside out, or borrow a pair from Meg.

*How many time was The Big Lebowski referenced in that last paragraph? I might just have to watch it tonight... No I must clean.

Are you still with me or did you just throw up like my closet? Of course I am exaggerating (a little) but I am going to conquer my laziness tonight with some good hard work. Unlike the government, it appears as if Meg doesn't sympathize with a struggling man, no bailouts for me.

The Only Mexican in Korea

(Is the stache me or what???)
















When I came down with the flu, I was far too weak to do anything let alone shave the few black hairs that pop up on my face. I was sucking my thumb trying to conserve energy for self-preservation while under blankets in the fetal position, hardly a time to think about shaving, which I might add is one of my least favorite things to do in the world, right behind going to the dentist. After days of being in the fetal position, I noticed something right above my lip. Yes that is the faint beginning of a mustache, so in an effort to be funny I just kept letting it grow. Then a strange thing happened to me. People, friends even, would tell me how much they liked mustaches. One of my co-workers even had one!


I became confused. Maybe I look good in my 1/2 stache, which is exactly what I kept thinking to myself. I googled mustaches, and it appears the mustache is in the early stages of a comeback. (you can research it if you want to) Now, I have never been on the forefront of anything. I am what marketers would call late majority. Hardly memorable and pretty conservative, but the mustache became my chance to take part of something right from the beginning (or in this case the Renaissance). If I would rock the mustache before anyone else, well my friends, a seat of glory would be waiting for me right next to Brad Pitt and George Clooney.

Maybe my illusions of grandeur got into my head prematurely, because if Mr. Pitt (sexiest man alive, ditto for Clooney) was wearing a mustache it can't be a fashion mistake. I mean, I had to be close to the cutting edge of fashion if Pitt was wearing one. I convinced myself that I looked cool with the few hairs above my lip. I was going to be the person who brought the mustache to Korea, an innovator for the first time in my life!






All of my illusions came screeching to a halt last Friday, when these two things happened.

1. I noticed that one particular post puberty student had a better mustache than mine. How did I notice this? He told me... "Teacher, Teacher, you have mustache like me. Mine is bigger and better."* "No," I said, "your hair is just blacker, that makes it look thicker and better." I said this as fast as I could, hoping he wouldn't be able to understand me, thus gaining my excuse credibility.
2. Not even ten minutes later, right after the class bell rings, I am walking in the hallway and one of my students points at my stache and starts laughing. "Teacher, Teacher, are you Mexican?" How do I respond to this? How does he even know Mexicans are sterotyped with creepy mustaches? At this instance, I knew the stache had to go.

* That's what she said...

How did I fall victim to the power of the stache? I blame my friends who were out to sabotage me. Was this some kind of inside joke, and behind my back these so called friends were laughing their heads off? I blame the 70's and all the hippy fashions that refuse to die; they tricked me into believing one more fad is on the verge of a comeback. I blame my marketing professors for telling me innovators are the entrepeneurs of this world. But most of all I blame YOU, BRAD PITT! And your damn good looks, making it look easy to rock a stache.

Update

Okay, well, I still am a woman writer even after my profane penis story. I think that the site is full of it, and some program flips a binary coin; o or 1. My first second job was cancelled. I just can't get another one. Here's some great news from Meg's side though: She won the best foreign teacher award for out company. Olympiad has about 200 employees, and all 200 of us were treated to an end of the year party in a banquet hall. In this setting, Meg beat out 40 or so foreign teachers to win a crystal plaque and a 500 dollar gift certificate!! AWESOME!!

She also got another job. She writes out the dialogue from CNN audio clips. I think she gets 30 bucks for each typing. If anyone is prospering from this trip, it has to be Meg. She is simply thriving. She has a number of jobs, she won this great award, she is surrounded with friends that she recruited, and she is respected by all our colleagues. And she gets to listen to her three favorite bands: Rain, Wonder Girls, and Big Bang. Korean's love their pop music.