The truth is, we’ve gotten caught up in our life in Korea and haven’t had a lazy moment to put our butts in the chair and blog about anything lately. Autumn has come around and it’s a lazy time with beautiful colors that make it seem like there are fewer hours in the day than things to do.

My family kindly reminded me that, despite the fact we might not find it interesting, others might. So we dedicate this post to you, dear family and friends. So taking a cue from my boss, If it’s boring, blame it on my parents insistence that I write, and if it’s good, it was all my idea.

Part One:
Cheering for a Black Guy to Win the Election

It’s no secret that I’m neither a fan of Religion or Republicans, as I find the two more often than not play off each others in incestuous ways when it comes to running the ole U. S. of A., so it shouldn’t be a surprise that I voted for my favorite rumored terrorist pal, Mr. Barack Obama. Ever since my dear old Grandma pointed him out during the 2004 elections I’ve had my eye on him, and few days made me prouder than watching the numbers come on the 4th of November and the ensuing backlash against the bully state we’ve become in the States.

A lot of people seemed to like McCain and some of those same people seemed to like Bush and many of those people also seem to lack passports with more than one stamp in them and view terrorist attacks in Spokane as a ‘definite possibility’ so it was very exciting as someone who values how America is perceived abroad to get an effective ‘do-over’ for the last 8 years of mismanagement. Sure, maybe our taxes will be higher if we’re earning over a quarter million, and yes, our president elect does have a name one consonant away from the FBI’s Most Wanted Terrorist, but in the long run it’s better than having a Bush and a Dick running the country as effectively as the lifeboats were managed on the Titanic.

What was really inspiring was watching my students get so invested in the U.S. Presidential Election. We covered the candidates in our monthly Time for Kids class, and like a good teacher I refrained from indoctrinating their young minds with my communist propaganda. None the less, the ensuing debate my genius six year olds had was colorful as always.

Tony: I like Obama because he’s brack and plays basketball and if a brack man can be President of U.S. maybe one day a Korean can!
Me: Very well put Tony–
Nicholas: Yes but I like McCain because he’s old like grandfather and if he doesn’t win maybe he will die before he can try again.
Me: Well, that’s also something to be concerned about–
Ella: Obama is handsome and his wife is pretty!
Suji: But McCain’s a grandfather and his wife has laid many babies.

All in all, our little mock election turned in 3 votes for Grandpa McCain and 7 votes for Handsome Obama. During the day I checked the electoral count and updated the score as the numbers were reported back in the U.S. Every time Obamas score went up, half the class would erupt in broken shouts of “OH-BA-MA” as if we were at a North vs South Korean baseball game. It was exciting to see kids get so excited about something that many Americans themselves take for granted.

When the election was called for Obama I walked in, circled Obamas name, and the entire class erupted in applause. Those who voted for McCain congratulated the winners, and those where backed Barack told McCain “Nice try“. In a country that often takes competition far too seriously and manners not seriously enough, it was nice to see some civil discourse between the kids and kindness on the part of the winners, unlike, say…dodgeball, where half the kids end out crying or quitting when they aren’t winning.

Part Two:
Invasion of the Waegooks

It’s not often that I miss home, but it’s often that I miss the friends and family I have back home and how rare it is that I get to see them these days. One of the numerous things I gladly give my parents credit for is the strong motivation to travel and see that world, something they’ve pushed me to do even back as far as middle school when I spent my spring break climbing Mexican ruins and diving down to plane crashes in scuba gear courtesy of my prep schools Mexican adventure. The flip side to the coin of travel is that a long time passes between visits to or from friends and family back home, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say there weren’t days when I wish I could share a pint with my friends and family back in the states.

So like some Asian typhoon that comes out of the blue, or a raging case of herpes from some indiscretion at an African port city, I suddenly found myself hosting three different groups of friends and family over a three week spread. My aforementioned parents were kind enough to nonviolently reroute their airplane to Seoul where they spent a few days before continuing on to Bhutan.

While their adventures in Bhutan were undoubtedly amazing, I doubt they found a more bad ass class of six year olds than my Phoenix Class. They sat in and watched me teach, a surreal experience that made me feel both much older and more mature than I’ve probably ever wanted to feel. It’s not that being a teacher is easy work, far from it, it’s just that having two doctors sitting at the side while your kids discuss Cape Town, South Africa in their second language like fucking robots with Learning Processors enabled makes a lazy 29 year old feel, well…lazy and old. It’s sort of like having a potluck with Einstein, Hawkings, John Nash and Nikola Tesla and being asked to bring the string beans and twelve topics of discussion. Mid class my resident prodigy, Tyler, would occasionally turn to my dad (who is a grandpa, not because he IS, but because he’s old enough to BE a grandpa, according to my class) and ask:

Tyler: Teachers Dad, what car do you drive?
My Dad: Um, a Porsche–
Tyler: Interesting, is it Korean?
My Dad: Um, no it’s Italian–
Tyler: Is it automatic or manual transmission? Is it push key ignition or smart key? Is the navigation voice activated?
My Dad: Are you from the future?*

I think my mom accurately summed up the kids I teach when she said: “YOUR kids are going to be working for THESE kids.“

Not just a few days later I found myself hosting my brother, sister and my friend from L.A., all of whom happened to be close enough to the general vicinity of Korea to make the journey to the Land of the Morning Calm. It was refreshing to wake and glance down at the ondol heated floors to see backpacks strewn about and siblings sleeping sideways on makeshift mattresses as if the Officetel had become a hostel in the blink of an eye.

Coming from a family that values travel often means we meet up at weird places on one of the seven continents and this visit was no different. No sooner had I arrived home from school and taken up position on our favorite blue chair outside the local store than I saw two miguks with mountaineering backpacks being led towards our building by my close friend and resident Korean sherpa Philip. He spotted them at the subway and somehow his innate ability to identify whities in trouble came in handy and mere moments after arriving at Ori we were all upstairs eating shabu and drinking soju like a group of old friends.

At first I was a little worried about sharing a one room officetel with two more people, but the few days they stayed on our floor was a refreshing change of pace and made me realize how much I sometimes do miss home, even though I consider Korean home for now. It also made me realize how comfortable I’ve gotten out here, and how normal it all seems after 8 months. Crossing the street earlier with my parents was a prime example as a car speed towards our crosswalk, my girlfriend and I didn’t bat an eye at the encroaching metal deathmobile.

Parents: “Is that car going to stop?“
Me: “Probably…“
Parents: “Are you sure?“
Me: “Well, they usually do.”

Even crossing the street in the face of the most aggressive and piss poor motor skills has become routine, and it took a friendly reminder from outside sources to point out that in some ways, we’ve gone native.

It seemed like our guests had a good time, and I was excited to show off Korea, since most people just skip over this weird middle child of a country, opting to visit Japan or China instead. My brother ended out taking some amazing photos, some of which can be found here. More impressive than the pictures themselves were the amount of places they visited during their stay, and it reminded me that while I may have settled in here, I haven’t seen nearly enough of this country yet.

Part Three:
Killing People, Virtually

Like half this country, I’m a unabashed nerd when it comes to pixel warfare, so it’s obviously a more appropriate place to indulge in my vices than say, Tibet. You like snow, go to Sweden. You like video games and alcohol, come to Korea. I blame the latter vice on two highly overdeveloped thumbs and a pixel habit that dates back to Christmas of 1985 when my parents presented me with a brand new NES which we promptly hooked up to my aunt and uncles TV. Like Amy Winehouse to crack, I was hooked with no hope of going back.

Lately however, my Xbox has become a bit of a whore, especially with the onset of autumn and the cold nights it brings. Our favorite foreign hang out, the local GS 25’s blue plastic chair, may soon be retired at the sight of the first snow, so we’ve moved onto greener pastures, namely the comfort of home, some good music, and the enjoyment of killing other people and not getting arrested for it.

November wasn’t just a good month to be a democrat, it was probably one of the best months to be a gamer as well. Not since Frodo finally made it to Mount Doom have I looked forward to being a nerd more. We’ve indulged our digital addictions, acquiring the amazing Dead Space, Gears of War 2 , and the fantastic 11 Years in the Making Fallout 3 . My ass and my couch might be married by now, and if it weren’t for hitting the gym religiously, they’d probably have fused together.

All this, and we managed to acquire legal copies of Wrath of the Lich King three days before anyone in America had a copy. A feat, I imagine, was probably aided by the fact that our digital drug dealer was sending supplies out of Hong Kong, and we just happened to part of a shipping hub between the two. So when we’re not in class teaching kids we’re often at home living out alternate lives in alternate universes and damn happy about it.

As a gamer it’s always amused me the stereotypes people have about the chosen hobby. Many of our friends join in and play rounds on the xbox with us, and others look at us like we’re crazy when we pass up Yet Another Invitation to Go Out and Drink and opt to hit the gym then hit the games.

Some are even amazed we play at all, as if it’s something kids do. People like that remind me of those Japanese soldiers that somehow got stationed on little rocks in the South Pacific and spent years after World War 2 thinking they were still fighting Uncle Sam. Despite the fact that video games are more profitable form of entertainment than movies, and the average age of gamers is much higher than previously thought and even the CDC uses it at times to research how viruses could spread in the real world it’s often amusing how few people acknowledge the largest hobby in the world. Some of my students are even amazed I play games.

Josh: “Teach-uh, you play World of Warcraft?“
Teacher: “Yep, you?“
Josh: “Undead mage, level 31.“
Teacher: “Gnome warrior, level 70. What’s the mages name?“
Josh: “Slashface, why teach-uh?“
Teacher: “Because I’m going to to camp him and kill him repeatedly if you don’t start doing your homework.“
Josh: “Gaaaaaa, I don’t like Teach-uh!“

And lastly, one of the benefits of being a gamer geek is that it’s a cheap habit and if you’re lucky enough to have a girlfriend who’s into it as much as you, the two of you can spend a happy evening at home questing in Warcraft together, or taking out aggression by putting a chainsaw to each others throat in Gears of War. It’s not often that we do argue but when we do more often than not it’s solved with a sword, a spell, and her turning to me and saying: “Take it like the bitch you are. You got owned by a girl!“

Part Four:
Making Kids Cry

I’ve always loved Halloween. Ever since an inventive neighbor chased a group of us 8 year olds off his porch with a de-chained chainsaw and a hockeymask during Trick or Treating, I’ve wanted to truly give some kids the lasting memory and definition of terror that I was graced with at an early age. Unfortunately, Korea doesn’t really do Halloween, but thankfully our school did, so with only a few days notice we were given the tasks of procuring costumes in a county that probably has a grand total of 3 stores selling Halloween costumes.

Some women use Halloween as an excuse to dress as slutty as possible and our school was no different. Thankfully, there were also a few of us who were determined to give the kids a lasting impression. One of the teachers put on a Tae Kwon Do outfit and a werewolf mask and spent the morning lurking in the kids bathroom, leaping over the doors when the kids were inside. One kid even broke down into a stuttering mess of snot and tears and refused to come out until the monster was killed.

My costume wasn’t very original, as everyone and their grandmother was the Joker this year, but it won awards for Best Use of Little Resources. The total cost of make up was around 5 dollars, and the green hair was done courtesy of highlighters since only five people in this freakin’ country dye their hair any color other than black. The most expensive piece, an ugly purple jacked knocked me back about 40 dollars at a vintage store, but the quality was so nice and the jacket so absurd I decided to keep it for future adventures.

And here’s my better half sans make up. It’s amazing how different women look when you scrape the gunk off their face and let the true beauty beneath shine forth.

Now whomever thought it would be a good idea to give kids candy, and copious amounts of it, on Halloween either has a special place set aside in Heaven or Hell, depending on whom you ask. Keeping kids focused for forty minutes long enough to absorb a word is hard enough, but with more sugar in their system than a diabetic at Krispy Kreme, keeping them from climbing the walls was almost a scientific impossibility.

Fortunately, our director figured out the perfect way. He called it ‘Movie Time‘, but I’m sure some people would call it shocking. Chalk it up to cultural differences, that’s what I do whenever the Koreans do something that would end in lawsuits back in the U.S.

So about 60 odd five to seven year olds are called into the gym where a laptop is set up with a projector and speakers. The conversation went something like this:

Me: “So what movie are we going to watch? Ghostbusters?“
Director: “Child’s Play.“
Me: “Oh perfect, that’ll go over great! No, really, what are we watching?“
Director: “Child’s Play. I’m thinking Seed of Chucky.”
Me: “You’re…really going to show them Child’s Play?“
Director: “Yep!“

If you’ve never seen the series, I’ll sum it up like this: Serial Killer is into Crazy Voodoo Magic. Police almost catch him so Serial Killer puts his soul into a kids dolly that’s eerily similar to a Cabbage Patch Kid. Doll comes alive and murders people, often in gruesome and over the top ways. Knives are usually involved, although this particular sequel depicted Chucky (the Doll) and his wife decapitating someone by wrapping piano wire around their neck and pulling tightly. No, I’m not kidding, a roomful of kids watched this.

Most sat silent, eyes wide open as their brains tried to understand what they’d just witnessed. I could see the mental gears going as their minds tried to figure out if the movie was a comedy or something very, very scary. A few ran out screaming as the blood sprayed, a few laughed and clapped, and most just went: “What…the…hell?” As an early convert to the cinema of horror at the ripe age of nine when my cousin showed me the uber shocking Re-Animator , I know what it feels like to spend the entire night awake trying to figure why a head can come off a body in a crimson fountain and if zombies really eat the brains of kids or just grown ups, so I’ve got to imagine most of the students spent their nights shivering in a sugar induced shake, eyeing their Pokemon dolls and sleeping with the lights on.

Part Five:

The Stuff that Didn’t Fit in the Other Three Parts

The original plan was to write a few small posts and put them up over the course of a few days, but like most things I plan, this turned out to be half assed and poorly thought out. Instead I find myself sitting on the 102 bus going non stop from Jeongdongjin back to Seoul on a sunday night while our driver steers the vehicle with near suicidal intent. I’ve been in a lot of shady vehicles in my adventures but this driver seems hell bent on killing at least one person before seven thirty, so if you find this laptop spattered in blood by the side of the road, there’s a good chance there’s a bus somewhere in the ravine below, and would you kindly fetch the police or an ambulance?

Here we are in case you need photos to identify our remains.

Rewind to a week ago when our friends Colin and Ji-Yeon said: “We should go on a couples retreat” with all the enthusiasm of two kids going to Toys R Us. A few days later we settled on the beachside town of Jeondongjin based off the enthusiastic recommendation of our guide book, the highlight of which read something to the effect of:

If you want to see what happens when local towns are appropriated far too much money to promote tourism with little to no oversight, accountability, or even coherent planning then Jeondongjin is a perfect example.

When our school director later asked what we were doing this weekend and we told her where we were going, she only stared at us with a confused look and asked: “But…why?”

The answer was simple. Sometimes the tackiest places also make the best memories. Sure, that palatial hotel with the mud bath and wine bar was wonderful, but I’d bet dollars to pesos you’d remember visiting the Home of the Worlds Biggest Hairball more than you would another resort. In this sense, Jeongdongjin lived up to its promise. Over the weekend stay we accomplished several things I can now safely cross of my List of Things to Do Before I Die, such as:

• -Take the slowest train in Korea
• See the Worlds Largest Egg Timer
• Have Drinks inside a Revolving Bar and NOT Vomit!
• Sleep in a 200 Room Hotel that’s Shaped Like a Cruise Ship AND Built on the Top of a Massive Cliff over the Ocean.

All this, and the weekend didn’t set us back too much in the pocket book. It was nice to wander around a town that reminded me of some of those small town Americana places you pass on the highway but never get around to stopping at. And for all the kitsch quality about it, the town itself is host to a spectacular sunrise, so spectacular in fact it woke us up at 7 in the morning by flooding our room with light so blindingly bright it was like staring into a supernova. I watched my girlfriend fumble through the abstract brightness hell bent on closing the blinds, all the while stumbling over furniture and mumbling: “Oh my God I can’t see!”

The day was spent walking around and checking out odd local things, like this series of wooden faces, traditionally set up outside villages to ward of bad spirits and droughts…

…but they can’t ward off obnoxious idiots!

There was also a little park with a captured North Korean submarine and a warship donated courtesy of the U.S. My girlfriend thinks I’m overcompensating for something…

Hope this update was enough for now, and I promise to do my best to post more regularly. In the mean time…

Happy Travels!

-D-

____________________________________

*Other accounts of the conversation may vary.

Sorry about the lack of posts. Busy life got in the way. Massive updates coming very soon, stay tuned!

In the mean time it’s nice to meet you again, America. Glad to have you back!

The upside was I ended giving lectures at lightning speed and probably covered more in a caffeine minute than I do in a normal hour. Unfortunately, my handwriting ended out looking something like an alzheimer patient attempting to write hieroglyphics.

My students decided to nickname me Kangaroo teacher on account of how jumpy I was.

Teaching kids anything, especially a second language, can be exhausting, but also very rewarding. It’s a lot like herding cats.

Like any job, there are moments of sheer frustration, such as when little Lucy, who’s been doing so well, suddenly slips back into remedial thinking like John Nash without his meds and begins slapping Alex across the face after he called her parents ‘poor farmers‘. Somedays you’re happily teaching the kids about foreign policy, phonics, life on mars, aliens, adverbs, and Wall-E all before lunch and keeping them entranced like cavemen with fire.

Then there are days when the little tumblers in the mental locks on their minds don’t line up and you end out realizing why so many people drink heavily out here. The Peace Corp calls itself “The Hardest Job You’ll Ever Love”, but there are days after eight hours of trying to get kids not to confuse there L’s and R’s (”reft turn at the led right“) that makes the thought of digging some water ditch for some dirt farm in Djibutti sounds like a nice retirement plan.

And of course there are the moments of absurdity, such as teaching kids about endangered species, and using the New Zealand Kiwi as an example on how we should help protect animals.

Me: “So what can we do to help protect the kiwis?“
William: “We can make a machine that has swords and the swords will kill anything that tries to hurt the kiwi!“
Me: “That’s an interesting thought, but there are a lot of things that like to eat kiwis. Dogs, cats, other–“
William: “Then we teach the machine to make more machines!“
Me: “…yes but–”
William: “The machines would look like police and they would go to the past and stop the people from hurting kiwis!“
Me: “This sounds a lot like the plot from Terminator.“

Prior to coming out to Korea on this Asian Odyssey, I’d spent my years after college working on the fringe edges of the Film Business with all the success of Lindsey Lohan avoiding a DUI charge. It was a fitting irony that I was put in charge directing a play for a group of seven year olds, because having their parents record the recital has been about the closest I’ve come to seeing my work produced, even if it was only an adaptation of an age old story called The Blind Men and the Elephant. While I didn’t spend every moment reading David Mamet books, I did get to indulge the method actor inside me by having my students write out their characters names, ages, physical traits, and back stories. Thus, little Tony playing Blind Man #1 learned to play the part with a limp and a cane because he decided his character was eighty nine. And little Emily decided hers was a cross between a ballet dancer and Hunter S. Thompson.

David Mamet may still have a slight edge over my directing abilities, but our play came out pretty well, despite the non-existent wardrobe budget, bossy producers (the school director), and limited run time (one performance), I was quite pleased how well my class did. They got their parts right, improvised when things went wrong, and waved to their moms and dads mid performance in an amusing way of breaking the fourth wall.

Tyler, the fearless genius that he is, took charge of a few scenes when the kids forgot their lines.

We had a few musical numbers built into the play, but the kids really made it their own. It wasn’t RENT, but having them beat box “Check, check, CHECK out the elephant,” then grab hands and dance in a circle was a close second as far as I’m concerned.

From left to right: Alex, who showed up as a Wizard because he was so into his method acting he decided the kings messenger should be Harry Potter. Bibi, as the princess. Suji, as the Prince. And Tyler, channelling the ghost of Col. Sanders as the Princes Messenger. Note the makeshift elephant built out of playground pieces in the back. Apparently there’s some law against importing real elephants, and ours was detained at Incheon Airport where it’s currently being trained to teach english.

Another musical number. Tony, rocking the cape and hat as an adjosshi blind man on the left.

At the end, everyone took a bow to the parents while Tyler ran out and raised his hands like some tiny Rocky Balboa shouting: “Aaaaaadreaaaan!“

Moms, a few dads, a grandma, and even a baby sister showed up. While the theatre only held 22 seats, we filled every one, making it the most sold out performance in the kindergarten circuit. Next semester, we’re thinking of tackling Waiting for Godot , or The Three Little Pigs, depending on if we can get the rights.

~cheers,

-D-

The big news in Bundang is we bought a set of Rollerblades. We’d been meaning to put our feet in some sort of wheels, be it moped, motorcycle, bicycle or blades, so we settled on a pair of Solomons at our local E-Mart.

Now if you’ve never been to an E-Mart in Korea, you’re in for an experience. It’s Walmart done Korean style, complete with several massive floors of items ranging from Sega to Soju and bins of bargain clothes where you’ll get elbowed out of the way by old ladies who power sort through the stacks for deals faster than Park Tae Hwan wins a gold at the Beijing games. None the less, we’re now happy waegooks as we speed down the river road on our daily route home from school with four wheels strapped to our feet.

And speaking of Olympics, we watched the incredible Opening Ceremony courtesy of the amazing rooftop theatre screen on our Starus Offictel in Ori. It was surreal watching 10,000 Chinese drummers bang away in unison while the thunder and lightning cracked off in the distance and a very light rain offered relief from stifling summertime humidity. We cheered for the U.S., and we cheered for Korea, and truth be told, few moments we’ve had out here were as exciting as sitting with a crowd of Koreans watching the start of the Beijing games knowing that we’ll be four years older and maybe many miles away the next time we see the games again in 2012.

We’ve also been going to a lot of Norebangs recently. What are norebangs? Glad you asked! They’re small rooms you rent (no, not brothels) where they provide you with a TV, a microphone, and a karaoke machine loaded up with a wide variety of K-Pop and a questionable selection of western music. It’s a much more private version of singing in public, which is wonderful because I can’t carry a tone and only sing when in trouble, intoxicated, and usually…both.

Koreans take these places seriously, and it’s not uncommon to see American Idol style shows on TV with old ladies and little kids singing in front of thousands to some version of Peter Gabriel. None the less, they’re wonderful fun for a group of waegooks to go belt out tunes such as Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Want to Have Fun followed by Epik High’s One.

Like most foreigners, one of our most common hang outs is the GS 25 out in front of our building. It’s odd what a magnet a few plastic tables can be outside a place that sells beer and popsickles, but it’s like those little blue tables can’t be without a white ass in them anytime they’re out there, especially when we’re playing Liar’s Dice.

Sometimes I feel like Silent Bob outside the Quick-E-Mart but I’m sure my girlfriend would argue I’m more like Jay since I never shut up. One of my 7 year old students drove past in her parents car and saw us out late one night. Upon arriving at class the next day she asked: “Teach-uh, I saw you last night with your friends! But…what were you all talking about? It looked VERY interesting!“

Thankfully, she’s one of the good students so it probably wasn’t about her.

We’ve even met a few foreigners who’re married and met their husbands or wives while hanging out on those crummy blue chairs in the afternoon air.

And when you do need to use the bathroom, they have a hand dandy picture that show’s you how to use a urinal, in case, you know…you’ve lived on an island for the last 50 years.

And as always, the highlight of our time out here continues to be the time spent in the classroom, teaching kids. It’s not an easy job, but it it has its moments, such as getting them excited about reading…

…or having one of your students borrow another’s earrings and gleefully display them like Rupaul.

Like this sign, we hope you’re having a…

…feeling fine day!

~cheers!

-D-