Just heard the news that Don Adams died. Man, how depressing. As a kid, I was obsessed with watching the re-runs of “Get Smart” on Nick at Night and I thought it was the most brilliant thing ever. Who could forget Max Smart and his nifty shoe phone:
Smart: Operator, I’m calling from my shoe!
Operator: What is the number of your shoe?
Smart: It’s an unlisted shoe, Operator!
Ah well. So long, Don. With you gone, the world is now a little less smart.
Hello everybody. Long time no see. How’s the weather over there? It’s been over a week since my last update. I’ve been slacking.
The Chosuk holiday was fantastic, not to mention sorely needed. Not only did I get two days off from the wee ones, but I was also invited to an authentic Korean Chosuk dinner. My good friend Chelsea Kwak whisked me away on a rainy Saturday morning to her grandparent’s place 30 minutes away. While there I watched dragonflies, ate, played with various puppies, ate, took loads of pictures, and ate some more. I was quite full that evening.
This was a first time experience for me, as I was in an authentic Korean home, eating a traditional Korean meal, alongside three generations of a Korean family. I did my best not to look like a confused foreigner, but that proved to be impossible. Many of the younger folk had never seen a foreigner before, and I caught them all staring at me quite frequently. I didn’t mind this, as I would usually pull funny faces and make them laugh. Most of them were obsessed with my hair – which is quite curly – and they spent a large chunk of time staring at it.
Anyway, they say a picture is worth a thousand words so check this link out. There are 29 pictures and some video clips, so that is somewhere around 30,000 words. Enjoy.
This weekend is Chosuk, the Korean Thanksgiving. In honor of the holiday, my school is giving us a FOUR DAY WEEKEND. Quite sweet. My school also gave us a gift. Check this out:
This bag was given to me by my boss yesterday, with a message to have a “Happy Chosuk!” I wasn’t expecting a gift, and thanked him profusely. Upon looking at the bag, I assumed that “Spam” was some sort of brand name. Well, you know what they say about the word “assume.” I eagerly opened the box, peeked inside, and found the following:
Hmm.
I have to say that I have never received anything quite like this before. I guess it’s good to know I won’t starve if all the restaurants are closed for Chosuk.
So as we all know by this update, I have a spiffy new cell phone. It was sold to me by a departing co-teacher who finished her contract (miss you, Rose!), and I am still getting the hang of all the many many bells and whistles it offers.
Mainly, text messaging.
I was vaguely aware of the existance of text messaging. In fact, I received about four or five text messages in the six years I owned my cell phone back in NYC. It was very useful if you were in a crowded area and needed to find out where your buddies went, or if you wanted to give an address to someone so they’d have a digital record of it. Here, it’s totally different. Text messaging is a way of life. I have owned my new Korean phone for two weeks, and already I have received sixty text messages.
This surprises me, because I always felt that entering words into a cell phone was the most frustrating, time consuming, and annoying way to communicate with someone. When making plans with someone, it seems that the easiest way would be to communicate verbally. But here everyone wants to coordinate the details – where to meet, what time to meet, what to bring, etc – via text message. At first, my stubborn self tried to rebel against this way of thinking. I did the unthinkable – I actually tried to call the person, but they would rarely answer.
I am very familier with people who never answer their phones, but this is usually rectified with voice mail. Here, it is rarely used. Most phones have the option to turn voice mail (or “voice answer”, as it’s called here) off, and you’ll find that most people opt to do so. I kept my voice mail on for two weeks and finally turned it off today, because it seemed most people would send me a text message saying “Tried to call you!” instead of actually leaving a message.
So, yeah. I have become a total text messaging freak, mainly out of necessity. To make things easier, I have learned various shortcuts like writing “B4″ instead of “before” and “u” instead of “you”. All pretense of proper english grammar and spelling has been thrown out the window.
On the plus side, my phone emits a very funny “toot!” noise when it receives a text message. I get to hear it a lot.
So in the lovely “about” section I explained in no uncertain terms that this website would remain angst-free. I am aware that I am breaking my own rule today, but I think the situation calls for it.
Two weeks ago I saw the movie “Skeleton Key,” a film staring Kate Hudson about voodoo in New Orleans. I remember watching it and contemplating the fact that I had never visited the city. The history had always interested me, but I never got around to going. I made a mental note to visit once my contract here in Korea was up.
Four days later, the whole city is under a virtual lake of toxic water. Thousands are dead. Lord knows how many are homeless. And the so-called government is doing as little as possible to help. Originally, I tried to avoid using this disaster as an excuse to slam the Bush administration, but after two weeks of reading the news it’s become increasingly obvious that my homeland’s government would rather spend billions of dollars on a pointless war instead of saving the lives of countless needy people at home. I’ll stop there before I go on a ranting rampage, but suffice to say it sickens and angers me.
My maudlin state is bolstered by the fact that today is September 11th. Being from New York City that date carries horrifying and none-too-pleasant connotations. A few of you have contacted me to mention that the NYC skyline graphic on the top of this page has the Twin Towers prominently displayed. Yes, I noticed this too. I could have booted up photoshop and removed them, but I didn’t have the heart.
A few years ago I felt compelled to write a longish essay about my experiences that day. Reading it again now, the words sound extremely hollow. Two buildings being destroyed pales in comparison to a major metropolis getting wiped off the map. Regardless, I’d still like to share it with you. You can read it by clicking HERE.
Hm. I feel a need to liven this update up a bit, since I want to entertain people and not depress them. So in a last-ditch attempt to make you laugh, here is a picture of me with pens stuck up my ears:
Right-o. Angst-free mode is back on, folks. Stay tuned for a riveting update about farts.
So I was up very early this morning and hanging out with a friend. It was 7:30 am, and it was pouring down rain, so we decided to go to the movie theatre and see what was playing. Since it was so early we thought we’d have free run of the place, but we were sorely sorely mistaken.
The cinema was jam packed with people. I’m talking an unpenetrable teeming sea of humanity here. The line just to get INTO the cinema was long enough, but once we gained access to the building we were both assaulted on all fronts by elbows and chins and kneecaps and shoulders all jockeying for supremacy.
I’m surprised we got out alive.
I know it was a Saturday and it was good weather for a movie, but I also know that it was SEVEN-THIRTY IN THE FRIGGING MORNING. I am aware that people are awake at that time, and some of these people might even want to see a movie. But the sheer number of people present totally blew my mind away.
I don’t think I’ll be seeing many films here.
I had yesterday what I can only call a “Korea moment.”
I’ve begun frequenting this small eatery down the block from where I live. The menu is totally in Korean, but I am gradually becoming familiar with the different types of food. When I feel like something small I usually have something called “Mandu” (or “Mandoo” or “Mondu” or however you feel like romanizing it). They are small dumplings made from either chicken, pork or (if you can stomach it) kimchi. However, I occasionally crave something more substantial. Enter the Bi Bim Bap:
This stuff is great. A huge meal containing egg, rice, and lots of vegetables. Healthy, delicious, and dirt cheap. I can usually snag a bowl of Bi Bim Bap for the equivalent of 3 bucks. One can order it in a hot ceramic bowl (which keeps the food piping hot for ages) for a buck or two more.
I was introduced to this delicacy when I first arrived, and I haven’t gotten tired of it yet. However, I didn’t realize that I was going about it all wrong.
Yesterday, I was sitting in the eatery. I was reading a book that my boss had asked me to read. I was supposed to come up with 50 questions by the next week and I didn’t feel like reading at home. (Side note: I was reading “The Magician’s Nephew” by C.S. Lewis. At long last I am getting paid to read books I love). I ordered my Bi Bim Bap, brandished my chopsticks, and began munching away.
Around chapter five I began noticing an incessant giggling. I looked up and saw two adolescent girls in school uniforms at the next table, staring at me and grinning widely. I am used to this sort of thing by now, so I gave them a nod of recognition and continued reading.
Two chapters later, they were still staring at me. I waved my chopsticks (which had a chunk of sticky-rice clamped within) at them half-heartedly and they began giggling even harder. Finally, one of them walked up to me and started speaking in rapid-fire Korean. I shrugged stupidly. She pointed at my chopsticks and giggled again. I nodded, as if to say “Yes yes, I can use chopsticks.” People always seem to be impressed that I can use them.
She pursed her lips, turned around, and spoke quickly to her friend. The other girl immediately approached me, and I couldn’t help but notice she was holding a spoon prominently in her hand. She placed the spoon in my bowl, pointed at it, and then she motioned for me to put the chopsticks away.
Ahhhhh.
I’ve been eating Bi Bim Bap for a month, and I had no idea you were supposed to eat it with a spoon. I’ve been eating it with chopsticks like a moron. It took two fourteen year old schoolgirls to show me how to eat it properly.
I shudder to think what else I’m doing wrong.
Warning!
This update concerns material of a questionable nature. I debated whether or not to write about it, but since I can’t think of anything else and this might be of interest, I decided to throw all caution to the wind and bang it up. But be warned, ye blog readers of the internet. The information contained herin reveals information that a select few of you would probably prefer not to know.
Because today I want to talk about traditional korean toilets. (See? I told you.)
Those of you who have visited Asia have no doubt come in contact with these, but here is a quick five word summation for the uninitiated: porcelain hole in the floor. Yep, that’s pretty much it. You squat, you do your business, and then you flush. The handle is on the floor next to the hole, so it’s usually pressed with your foot.
I have been fortunate in that I have never had to actually use one of these things, despite the fact that I have been exposed to them for so long. My apartment bathroom has a western toilet, and my school had one too. However, all good things must come to an end. Last Monday, my school moved across the street. The location is much nicer, with cleaner rooms and a seperate teachers’ area, but there’s one small flea in the ointment. Yep, you guessed it – a traditional korean toilet was the only game in town.
When I spied this device for the first time, I pursed my lips and nodded thoughtfully, but for the most part put it out of my mind. However, I knew it wouldn’t be long before that undeniable pressure would come over my lower regions. Today, my friends, was that day. My time had come. I sighed deeply and steeled myself for the task at hand. Determined to get it over with as soon as possible, I trudged over to the restroom, closed the door, dropped trou, squatted, and…
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
I couldn’t do it.
Freaking hell.
I pride myself on having an open mind and jumping head-first into new experiences, but this? There was no way. My body wouldn’t listen to me. I quickly gave up and left the bathroom in shame. I managed to get through my next two classes swimmingly if a bit uncomfortably.
Three hours later, my teaching duties fulfilled, I rushed home. Now, I am sitting comfortably in my computer chair. I’ve typed this up after, pardon my french, the most satisfying dump I have ever taken in my entire life.
The next ten months are going to be very interesting.
Perhaps I need to remove fiber and bran from my diet.
Dave Gilbert | 
09 28th, 2005| 
