The Real Korea

Korea isn't all shopping malls, coffee shops, and wild, drunken parties that spill over into the street. That's just Gangnam. Once you get outside of Seoul, in fact, you'll discover that much of Korea is farmland. MyungSoo's grandfather (God rest his soul) was a farmer, and he often recruited his reluctantly obedient grandsons to help him plant rice. Even within Seoul, there are some areas that seem like they belong to an entirely different city. While Myeongdong and Gangnam are centers of consumerism and literally overflowing with money and every chain restaurant (from my perch on the second floor of a cafe called Coffeesmith, I can see two Smoothie Kings, two competing bakery chains, two movie theaters, and at least five cosmetics and jewelry stores. Oh, and Taco Bell, probably the best thing to come to Gangnam since Krispy Kreme.), there are other areas of Seoul where the streets are so narrow, only a motorcycle can fit between buildings, where the adjumma's sell raw fish and fresh vegetables from makeshift wheelbarrows, where everything is suspiciously cheap, and where you wonder if any of the businesses have operating licenses. Now, that's not a criticism of Korea. It actually adds a lot of color. If Seoul were nothing but upscale, overpriced bars, I would be very disappointed indeed. So, without further ado, let me introduce you to what I would like to believe is the "real" Korea.

Important vocabulary:
Adjumma means "old lady". But they are more than your average old ladies. They survived the Korean War and rebuilt their country on pure willpower alone. They are both incredibly tough and also incredibly sweet. If you respect an adjumma, she will reward you will smiles and blessings and maybe some delicious food. If you disrespect an adjumma, she will cuss you out then wipe the streets clean with your carcass. In my opinion, adjummas are part of what make Korea great. They're strong, they are stubborn, but they are also hospitable and generous. They also have a rocking sense of style.

Adjusshi means "old man". In my experience, they are stubborn, old men who like to hang out with their buddies and drink. They also like to offer alcohol to strangers, just because. They respect the adjummas, as is proper.

A few weeks ago, I met MyungSoo's father for the first time. His father speaks no English, unfortunately, but we hit it off pretty well. About halfway through dinner, he asked me if I liked to sing. I said yes. He then asked me if I would like to sing at a neighborhood festival that he was organizing. In my confusion, I thought that surely he must be joking. After all, who would ever want a foreigner, who is by no means a professional singer, to perform at a public event. So I said yes, I would do it. That was my mistake. Mr. Park was very serious. The day of the festival got closer and closer, and it was soon revealed that Mr. Park wanted his son and I to sing a duet. In English. In a karaoke competition. In front of a crowd of adjummas and adjusshis.

Don't look away. They can smell fear.

I was incredibly nervous and even tried to back out of it, but Mr. Park insisted. And, in the end, I'm glad he did. Our rendition of the incredibly cheesy duet, "Way Back Into Love", was a hit with the crowd, and the judges decided to award MyungSoo and I a "special prize". I could not win the other prizes (First prize: a TV. Second prize: a bike. Third prize: a large bag of rice.) because they were purchased with government money and were therefore only available to Korean citizens. My special prize turned out to be four tubes of toothpaste and a set of glass bowls. I also received six bars of soap for a feat I will now relate to you, my captive audience.

It turns out the festival was an all-day thing. It started around noon and went all the way until 8 PM. The weather was blistering hot, yet Korea's senior citizens refused to move. In fact, as the afternoon wore on, they became increasingly active. The street behind the stage area was filled with tents of delicious food (grilled chicken, kimchi, beef and noodles, seafood pancakes, and all sorts of sweets) and alcohol (makeoli and soju. duh.). Naturally, everyone ate their fill. MyungSoo and I sat down for lunch, only to have a group of adjusshis insist that we do shots with them. We were also gifted with some inch-long grubs and told to take good care of them so they could become two-inch-long beetles that we could care for as pets. I would post a picture, but I don't want to make anyone feel ill.

Meanwhile, on the stage, there were various distractions. Everyone's favorite, however, was a local comedian who's gig involved dressing as a homeless man and then stripping to reveal sexy pink underwear. He accosted the guests and local politicians, who rewarded him with vast sums of money.

None can resist the sex appeal of the homeless.

Speaking of local politicians, they were all there, graciously acquiescing to every potentially embarrassing request by the emcee. And here's where we get to the part about me winning some free soap (it's made with barley!). At some point, the mayor found himself on stage, performing karaoke for the adoring masses. By this point, most of the adjusshis were drunk, and the adjummas were demonstrating that, while they may be in their seventh, eighth, or even ninth decades, they are perfectly capable of rocking out. So, when a crowd of drunk, dancing old people demands that you get up and sing "Gangnam Style", you do it. The only problem was that the poor mayor did not know the words. Enter MyungSoo, the biggest Psy fan north of the Han River. Within a few seconds, MyungSoo was handed a mic and rushed on stage, where he impressed the masses with his rapping prowess. But this show was clearly not enough of a spectacle. Mr. Park spotted me, now alone and unprotected. He grabbed my arm, dragged me to the stage, and ordered me to dance. Shortly thereafter, a group of over-enthusiastic adjummas rushed the stage. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how my boyfriend and I performed "Gangnam Style" with a local politician for the amusement of Korea's elderly citizens. For my efforts, the emcee rewarded me with taxpayer-money-purchased soap. When it was all over, MyungSoo and I went to a meat buffet. All-you-can-eat meat for only 10,000 won. It was something that I only thought existed in my dreams.

All in all, it was an awesome experience and one that most foreigners will never be able to have. So, thank you, Mr. Park for forcing me to sing. And thanks for all this toothpaste, too. I'm not really sure what I'm going to do with it all, but at least I know I won't have to buy toothpaste for the next year or so.

I'm a winner!

Been Away Too Long

Yes, I'm still alive! Contrary to popular belief, there was zero threat of North Korean bombing Seoul, and, despite my frequent excursions into "strange food" territory (silkworm pupa soup, fish egg soup, chicken feet, pig feet, etc.), nothing bad has happened to me or my stomach yet. Since my last post, spring has finally arrived, and the bitterly cold winds have been replaced by light breezes and the pleasant scent of cherry blossoms (I may be exaggerating on that one. The smell of kimchi always lingers.).

The title of this article refers to many things. It could refer to the fact that my middle schoolers just came back to class after a prolonged exam break, and I had to forcefully remind myself that they are not sweet nine-year-olds with short attention spans, but rather hormone-packed creatures just waiting to walk all over me. The poor kids had to take their level up exams today, too, so they were particularly cranky. The writing exam went really well, actually, and even sparked a discussion of how awesome Iron Man 3 is, but about halfway through the TOEFL exam (a test, by the way, that most native speakers have a hard time with), a lot of them just gave up. One boy drew me a lovely picture of the continental United States (yet mysteriously replaced most of New England with a state called Theresa), while another boy just muttered curse words in Korean and marked answers at random. Yet, still, I love my students. Even the punk guys who sit in the back and pretend to sleep because they think it will impress girls.

I could also say I've been away for too long because I finally made a trip back to the States. I spent the first week of April back on the homestead, enjoying simple things like continuously running shower water, a living space larger than a walk-in closet, a car and an empty highway to drive it on, and all the home-cooked food I could possibly want. It's the simple things in life that matter. I may not have mentioned it before, but since moving to Korea, I've lost about 25 pounds and gone down about two jean sizes. It's actually pretty great because it means I can dress like an uber-fashionable Korean girl. Needless to say, my mother took this new skinniness as sign of serious food deprivation, and set to work providing me with all manner of delicious foods.

Unfortunately, I also spent most of the trip in a haze of sickness and jet-lag. I should back up a bit and explain. About two weeks before my trip, I came down with a lingering cold and fever that kept getting worse and worse. I was determined to be healthy for my trip home, so, in desperation, I turned to a Korean doctor. I should have known it was a bad idea when he handed me a prescription for four mysterious pills and the nurse told me to pull down my pants so I could get a shot of steroids in my posterior. But I stuck with it because, hey, he's a doctor, right? By the day of my departure, the pills (whatever they were) had eliminated my cold symptoms, but replaced them with insomnia, nausea, and extreme dehydration. I was so miserable that I even tried to make myself vomit on the plane in hopes that I could somehow rid myself of whatever miserable thing had lodged itself in my body. Anyway, to make a long story short, I was finally recovered by the middle of the week (but not before falling asleep at the dinner table several times), at which point the cold-flu-virus-thing returned. A nice, American doctor gave me a stern lecture about trying "foreign" doctors, and then handed me an antibiotic. All was well once again.

I recently passed the nine month mark, and while that may not seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things, it has been a very long time in terms of life events. Sometimes it feels like I've just paused my life, and that as soon as I go back home, things will start back up again exactly as they were. But, of course, it hasn't been that way at all. Since coming to Korea, I've missed all sorts of things. My best friend from childhood just had a beautiful baby girl. Another friend just got married. My sister-in-law is pregnant with her fourth child, a child I probably won't get to see for a very long time.

But don't think I'm sad. I'm back in Korea and having a blast. The most obvious reason for my post's title is that I have indeed been away from this blog for far too long. Here's a short list of things that have happened since then.

1. Psy released a new song called "Gentleman". I have no idea how Americans feel about it, although I suspect it's about the same as Korea's. It's either, "this is awesome!" or "ew. what?" It has subsequently been banned from public broadcasting in Korea, partly because of the sexual humor, partly because Psy is too funny for public broadcasting to appreciate, partly because the seemingly innocuous lyrics are not quite so innocuous (the lyrics "mother father gentleman" are a clever way of getting around Korean censorship laws), but also mostly because of this:

Psy: public menace to traffic cones

2. I started studying Korean. So far, I suck. My pathetic utterances puzzle strangers and make my boyfriend giggle.

3. Speaking of my boyfriend, things continue to prosper. Park is a gentleman and a scholar. We'll be celebrating our 100 days anniversary this coming weekend. 100 days is a big deal in Korean culture, so it's no surprise that couples also make it a big deal. On Saturday, we'll be singing in a karaoke competition that Park's father is hosting (I'm a little confused about the details. Park's dad doesn't speak any English.), and on Sunday we'll be going to Mass together and then visiting Lotte World, the Korean version of Disneyland. I'm really excited, and I'm looking forward to 100 more days and beyond.

Gratuitous couple photo on the Han River

4. My best friend, Ellen, is coming to Korea in about nine days to also work for Chungdahm. Things are about to get really really interesting over here.

5. North Korea threatened to bomb the hell out of South Korea, and South Koreans remained resolutely unconcerned, as usual. Meanwhile, the American media blew out of proportion every half-coherent mutter from our favorite pig-like dictator's mouth. I kept getting emails from people, asking me if I was worried, if I was still alive, and if I was planning on returning to America in order to escape the nuclear inferno that was soon to be Seoul. Oh, please. While I thank the masses for their concern (seriously, I'm touched!), there isn't much danger. Also take note that the America media (and subsequently, the American public) have completely forgotten about the "crisis" already. That's because there was no crisis, and they got bored with speculating that maybe a missile, if it got lost on its way to Japan, could hit Hawaii.

There are a lot more things, but I've talked for too long already, and I should probably study some more Korean now. I guess I should also put on my armor and prepare to do battle with my middle schoolers. Seriously, on Tuesday, I return to my classroom to find they had turned their scrap paper into perfect spheres and were throwing them around the room with destructive force. Kids, that is not how you play baseball.

Until next time.

tarico

P.S. Yes, the title of this post is also the title of the first track on the long-awaited new Soundgarden album, "King Animal". It's quite good, so go give it a listen.