a-ha moment

Every so often when you're learning a new subject, you hit those times when you realize you already know more than you thought. Like when you're playing the guitar and realize an E chord is simply an A minor one string up. Or when you learn how electron patterns repeat throughout the periodic table.

In Korean, it's pretty freaking cool when you start reading Hangul efficiently enough that you realize how much of at least the commercial signage is based off English words. Hence, I suddenly can order an "orenjee ju-suh," catch a "boos-uh," watch "tel-lebeejon," wear a "suweto," use a "compyooto," tell people I'm not from "Kae-na-da."

Just like in Spanish, bunches of English words have been appropriated and squashed into native sounds (Koreanized) ... you just have to know what to look and listen for. Often, it's mostly absent "R's" and an "-uh" or "-ee" sound attached to the end of a word. (In fact, I'm quickly picking up the nickname "Mahshy.") It all gives me an even deeper appreciation for English-language learners who by and large have no such quick fixes. I will never be fluent in Korean, but I think I just jumped a lightyear toward that goal by simply learning how to recognize words from my own language.

new digs and other mundane updates

Whew! Finally have my own Internet connection again. We rather suddenly moved into dorms at the end of last week, and it's been a bit like starting over again: new digs, new roommates, new part of town, new transportation lines, new set of shopkeepers ... but the biggest challenge - no personal line to the Net again for a few days. I am a part of the wired generation, no doubt about it.

But anyway, I'm now happily settled - Web and all - in a four-bedroom, two-bathroom suite on the top floor of a four-story brand new dorm building about 10 minutes' walk from the college. My roommates are fabulous folk: a chill couple from Ohio - new grads from an ESL master's program - and a former junior high math teacher from Colorado Springs. I have a Western-style bed again, and out my window is an undeveloped plot of tiny, haphazard houses and squash blossoms. The rooms are actually built for two each, which I can hardly imagine, but the place is grand for our setup of four people. And we only share a washer among 12 people now, and it's on our balcony, rather than down five flights in a dingy basement of a busy hotel.

As of now, we're supposed to be here another six weeks or so before moving up to the Village, but I'll find shoes in Asia if that deadline actually holds. We're taking another trip up there tomorrow and we'll see how much closer the crews are to the lavish architects' drawings ... it will be an amazing place if it turns out anything close to that, but it's obviously got a lot yet to get there.

Meahwhile it's an adventure navigating the neighborhood's maze of tiny alleyways and major "a la NASCAR" streets. We're also within minutes of another, large university, and there's a cool area closeby teeming with cosmopolitan restaurants, shops and nightlife. Downtown is now a bus- or cabride away, instead of mere stops on the convenient subway, but the sense of local community is captivating.

Amid trips to E-mart this weekend, the country's semi-equivalent to Wal-Mart/Target, a group of us squeezed in a full day touring the coastal part of this region by bus - stopping at a park, a temple, an arboretum and a windmill field. Nothing jaw-dropping, but fun nonetheless, and for $25 bucks for the day (sans lunch), the price was definitely right. Plus it was nice to be out in the countryside for a bit and also more along the tourist routes, where English signs at least are more plentiful. Thankfully fall appears to have finally hit, and ever since the days of rain it's been mild and breezy - hopefully we've got a couple months of this weather before winter rolls in, because it's fantastic. I'm planning an overnight to Seoul and a templestay for a break later this month, and we're hitting two cultural expos this weekend - one on the college's tab as "cultural training" and a thank-you from the dean for teaching summer camp.

Speaking of work, we've finally gotten to the point of breaking down a lot of our planning into task forces, and it's nice to get our hands on tasks and see measurable progress. Plus we've been rethinking some of the curriculum and coming up with really cool activities and projects ... I can hardly wait to get into the Village and put it into practice. I feel so spoiled, getting into the cool part of education by skipping all the typical bureaucracy and limited school systems. Granted, we'll have our limits, too, but the support and materials we have to work with are AMAZING, and there's no need to teach for any standardized test - the only test is whether students enjoy themselves and get a little more comfortable with English.

That's about the wrap for now, I think. Love from Korea! :)

TPR 101

Today was the day I've been waiting for. After a week of unyielding rain, the skies had at least temporarily plugged up and left the city in a temperate haze. Okay, so maybe not quite the perfect conditions for trying out my newest Korean small talk: "Nashiga chosumnida" ("Nice weather"). But tomorrow could very well be back to steaming or more rain ... so my next shot could be in April - heck if I wasn't going to bust it out.

Pay attention class, this is an example of education giant James Asher's Total Physical Response theory (basically that language should be learned in physical, real-world scenarios) in action:

It starts at breakfast, when I "Nashiga chosumnida" the attendant. Then the maid washing the windows on the way out of the hotel. I "Nashiga chosumnida" the bus driver (whose English is improving a lot more quickly than my Korean), and the linguistic-major Romanians within earshot giggle. The lunch ladies. I make a special "Nashiga chosumnida" outing during break, delivering the day's weather report to a handful of shops near the college.

Nashiga nashiga nashiga. Asher's got nothing on me. Bring it on, baby - I'll "Nashiga chosumnida" this whole country before the rain returns.

And in good Korean fashion, they all smile and nod, more or less amused with the crazy American who's suddenly decided to turn meteorologist.

Or at least that's what I think they're smiling at ...

Funny, no one seems to be returning with the "Yes, that's right" statement on my recording ... don't they know the script? Am I in the right country? ... Hmm. Better pocket this one for now until I can hit a dictionary or talk to someone to get a translation ...

And upon further investigation, it appears that I have in fact been telling everyone something to the effect of "You good pigeon." Or perhaps "Your sister's grandson well."

Friggin' Asher.

Oh well, it's supposed to rain tomorrow.

the art of karaoke

I'm just gonna have to get into this stuff. Having returned from my third such outing in the past two weeks, it's clear that a good Korean social life absolutely requires a solid education in Righteous Brothers, Outkast and Britney Spears. Not that I wasn't friendly with these fine folk before - it's just that my American acquaintanceship ain't gonna cut it. I need words, I need actions, I need to know their motivation ... and there will be a test.

Karaoke. It's where the 8-year-old crooning to the hairbrush emerges from the classy businesswoman, where the inner rock star pumps out from the dignified middle-aged gent.
Karaoke. Where there are no observers and no poring over of songbooks ("This is not a library!") - so you better come prepared.
Karaoke. Home of the peanut-butter dried squid and other assorted snacks, bad beer and soju.
When in Korea, karaoke.

I'm still getting over the oddness of presenting this ridiculousness to an intimate roomful of friends 4 feet from you rather than a distant bar of people you'll never have to see again ... but I better get with the program: True karaokers are a fierce foe, armed with tambourines and microphones. You will sing, you will dance, you will cheer riotously for everyone and you will be scored. (Seriously, the program actually gives you a score based mostly on how loud you are, best as I can figure.)

Pitch is not a necessary element whatsoever. Rythym is negligible. But flair and good humor, those are absolute essentials. And a true socialite has a little of everything in the hopper and knows just what makes an Elton John moment versus a time for the Black Eyed Peas.

So who has suggestions for my repertoire?

Indian adventure

No, not mine - yet. Mine for the moment is contained to the modest Indian/Pakistani district we cruise on weekends seeking an escape from kimchi. For a much more interesting account, click on over to my friend Megan's blog ... she's a buddy from MU journalism, we worked in Washington together and then she was in Denver at The Associated Press for a time while I was in the Springs. For the past year she's been working for Stars and Stripes in Okinawa, Japan, including a stint of several weeks in Baghdad. Now she's off on a new adventure of six months of travel and freelancing (and blogging!) in Asia, starting in New Delhi.

Check out her new blog here: The Gypsy Scribbler (http://gypsyscribbler.blogspot.com).

Happy reading, everyone, and happy travels, Meg!

smelly, sweaty Westerners

Yes, this is a post all about sweat. Oh ye delicate of sensibilities, surf on now.

So Daegu is hot. How hot? Well, the hottest city in Korea, for starters. The heat just seems to pool in the valley where Daegu lies, and if hot rains aren't fizzling down, the steamy river's evaporating up. Temperatures regularly climb into the 90s (Fahrenheit) in August, and it doesn't cool down too terribly much at nights. Which means Daegu is always pretty much hot as Hades - a swampy, steamy, stagnant Hades. No need to go to one of those famous saunas ... though clothing unfortunately is required on the streets.

Most buildings are air-conditioned, but only by room, and sometimes only certain rooms. And you usually have to start the air when you go in those rooms, meaning a good half hour of steaming while it cools down. And then there are necessary errands pretty much every day that require walking the blazing streets, and of course playing tourist on weekends ... so pretty much entire days running around outside.

Which of course means sweat ... at least for us Westerners.

Med school friends correct me if I'm wrong, but from reading and various other sources, I understand that Asians (at least in the Far East) generally have less sweat production (tied to less body hair on the whole) than Westerners - black or white. At any rate, it's quite obvious walking around the steamy Korean peninsula that the average Jin here looks a whole lot cooler than his dripping, smelly average-Joe counterpart. I'm pretty sure I work up more of a sweat brushing my teeth than a Korean does hiking a mountain. And you don't begin to notice body odor here the way you do in say, Western Europe.

Subsequently, deodorant just isn't a big thing in Korea ... at a major store you might find half a dozen or so products, and you could probably get caviar cheaper per ounce (antiperspirant is about $5 for a small container). So as you can imagine, there's a whole black market for the stuff among expats - you can find posts in English-language classifieds. Maybe that's what I'll do if my condo doesn't rent out soon, start a career in the burgeoning world of illicit deodorant trade.

The good(?) news: I've heard that Daegu also holds the distinction of being one of Korea's coldest cities in winter.

adjectives of emancipation

Copy eds, this one's for you. Everyone else, you probably want to move on before you're totally geekified.

One of the best parts of moving out of the career of words was the freedom to take back my language and the authority to use it any old way I please - by whim or by reason. I can't claim that all my grammatical faux pas will be statements: I'm still quite prone to ignorance and typos. However, to keep some shred of my former desk dignity (quiet, you snickerers! ... and keep fighting the good fight, copyeds!), I am compelled to document that at least some of my deviations are intentional.

Just for y'all's information (yesseree bob, I sure did just use the possessive form of that), you will see the false plural used for gender-neutral singular pronouns. I may use those verboten words like "lure" and "mull," and I may say "like" when it by standard grammar should be "such as." Oh and by the way, I'm just gonna use "may" for "might" - quite frequently. Deal with it.

I'll split my infinitives, call this a "website" and use "dork" with complete abandon. And if "healthcare" is good enough for Webster's, who am I to argue? But then again, I'll use a whole smathering of words Webster's has never heard of.

I'll probably talk about "healthy" food, break off a lot of prefixes that AP has no qualm with, dangle prepositions and put my "only"s any old place I please. I'm going to also use "blonde" as an adjective on principle. On the other hand, I'll likely as not talk about "manmade" things ... in fact, I'm pretty sure I've already gone and done it (ditto on "healthy").

I will definitely use "failed to" on more than one occasion - probably "in order to," as well - and I'm quite the fan of a good quaint "ain't" every now and again. I see no reason why "headquartered" can't be a verb, and I stand firm that there's a good many uses for passive voice.

The list goes on, but I think I've solidified my ridiculousness quite enough for one post. :)

Feel free to add your own grammatical rebellions in the comments!

3 bucks to see the doc

So this week's big adventure was a trip to the hospital. Don't worry - in Korea's socialized medicine system, the hospital is just a one-stop shop for healthcare, not reserved for urgent or serious procedures.

Anyway, a whole troupe of us teachers went to the local general hospital to get prescriptions rewritten, vaccinations and take care of other minor issues - thankfully herded along by our ebullient fashion-plate of a Korean facilitator. It was like a little family, shuttling everyone to respective locations and waiting around for translation help, and let's just say we all know way more about each other than I'm used to with co-workers. But that's OK - just see "Step 4" below.

We were quite the sight, as usual, scurrying along corridors and lounging about in waiting rooms. And being as sick people - and people waiting for sick people - have very little to do but gawk at such spectacles, it was definitely their day's entertainment, compliments of America.

There was a particularly hilarious scene in which an elevator wouldn't move loaded as it was with giant Westerners, and there was some ferocious Korean going on about who was going to get off ... with our shepherd (definitely skeptical of his charges' ability to cope if left behind) surely waging what amounted to a cultural war by asking seniors in age and rank to exit. Apparently the responses included "I'm a doctor with a patient!" and "I'm old!" Unable to argue with that, he herded us off the elevator and we waited another five minutes for the next and squeezed on before any Koreans had a chance. Ding ... one floor. One floor. Maybe Koreans don't believe in stairs in hospitals, being full of sick people and all.

Oh, and in another elevator trip, I discovered that if the people behind you don't think you're moving quite fast enough, they aren't shy about giving you a two-handed push on the back to propel you out the door. Or maybe that's just reserved for incommunicado foreigners ... I don't know.

So compare this with the States:

Step 1: Walk in the lobby and take a number. It's filled with row seats and quite resembles a bus station.
Step 2: When your number comes up (fairly quickly), pay a one-time registration fee of about $8 bucks - or $12 to see a highly experienced specialist.
Step 3: Go to the appropriate department, check in and wait to see the doctor (times seemed to vary drastically - some people were out in minutes, others languished for hours).
Step 4: See the doctor (most speak some English, but usually only select medical phrases, so it's a heck of a lot better to have a translator with you just in case). Oh, and it's highly possible you'll have to share a session with other members of your party, or that the next patient will come in halfway through your consult and patiently wait in the seat next to you ... the concept of HIPPA hasn't quite reached Korea, to say the least.
Step 5: Take your paperwork down to the lobby again and repeat the number process to check out. You'll probably pay $3 to $20 for the visit.
Step 6: Take your prescription to any pharmacy. Most medications cost $3 to $6 per box/bottle, but specific Western imports can be much higher.

Oh and that registration fee is only for large hospitals - go to a small hospital and you'll probably only pay $3 total to see the doctor.

survey of scenes

Just got back from spending the day cruising through a big market in town (think tailors' shops, knickknacks, cages of chickens, and all sorts of strange-looking meats/sea things out collecting flies) and then to the major upscale department store downtown (nine-plus floors of overwhelmingness) and then to a more everyday department store on a mission to find blank CDs to record a class project. Everything seems so complicated at first when you move to a foreign country - move anywhere, to some extent. The simple act of taking an elevator can be a whole different system: At the upscale department store, it appears that you watch all the banks to see where each elevator is and which direction it's going, then place your bets by pressing the button next to the one you think will arrive soonest, then crowd around that doorway.

It was interesting seeing what I assume to be the evolution of shopping, all in one day - first the traditional open-air market - and part of that has become an enclosed, air-conditioned structure. Then the ritzy place where everything comes together with pristine pizazz for a whopping price, then something closer (but not near the same as) your Target or Wal-Mart, for example - value and convenience driven by the rise of the middle-class dollar (or won). It was also interesting to see the differences in how commerce is structured here from the States: For example, department stores here are also kind of like malls in themselves - they usually seem to feature a food court and perhaps some other restaurants, a photo studio, a hair salon, even a movie theater, but they're standalone stores.

Last night was also a tour of scenes - but entertainment venues this time. Started at a noraebang, or karaoke room: Karaoke isn't done at bars here, but instead you get a group of people and rent a room by the hour and pay for drinks. It's quite the setup - disco lights, strange electronic-sounding music (which I guess makes it easier to modify by tempo and key - all at the click of a button), microphones, a fairly decent selection of American tunes amid the Korean music, and a big screen with the words popping up erratically and often hilariously wrong (Lennon and McCartney are credited with these fine lyrics: "I'm not half the moon I used to be, there's a shadow hanging over me ..."), plastered over pictures of Korean landscapes. The only way to do it is to embrace the cheese factor, fill up your soju (rice wine) glass, pick up that tambourine sitting on the table, and just go with it. It was quite the experience. Then we moved downtown, first to a low-key expat bar (notably sans expats at the time), then to a GI club where the American hip-hop spirit was alive and well, and finally to a typical Korean club, where wannabe B-boys greeted us at the door and the dance floor was filled with stiff-shouldered swaying.

Oh, and I've now eaten some sort of larvae often served at soju joints here - half-dried worm-type things with soft shells. Not so good.

Hope you all are well!

Thursday reflections

A couple days ago I got news of a great-uncle's death back in the States. It wasn't someone I was particularly close with, but it's still sad tidings and a stark reminder of how disconnected I am from the everyday lives of family and friends back there, and how much will have changed by the time I get back. Sometimes it seems so selfish to live a world away, adventuring for the heck of it, spending money on travel and a degree I'm not even sure I'll truly use. And it is - selfish - but it also seems the right thing to do, all things considered.

Meanwhile, life marches on here, too. Tomorrow is the final day of us teaching these summer classes at the college, and it's amazing to see how much the students have progressed - the heartwarming factor of teaching really shows up quickly. Course I still have plenty of heartburn, too (I get ridiculous about any new job - times ten for a major career change), but overall, things are going really well and it's been a great introduction to education. Next week we do sessions more similar to what will be in the Village (basically teaching amid movie-like sets to place kids in situations like they will find in the real world, and using hardly any bookwork), and we also start doing planning of schedules, curricula and logistics for the Village.

Yesterday was a national holiday (one of what I understand to be four Korean independence days), but one without much ceremony aside from flags popping out on shops and in neighborhoods. Four of us hopped a bus to Gyeong-ju, a historic city about an hour east of here, not quite to the Eastern Sea. The place is absolutely packed with sites - we were making plans on the fly and still managed to hit about five places in a few hours - and some of the cooler ones were parks filled with tombs of ancient rulers, like in the (handout) picture below. They're not quite as colossal as Egypt's pyramids, but serve the same function. The biggest one is seven stories tall, and there's one that's been excavated and now houses a display of the tomb structure and artifacts found there.

In the same area are beautiful gardens and other landscapes, a former palace grounds and man-made lake, and a museum housing many of the artifacts found in the area. One display in particular made me smile: Apparently, in the dawn of A.D. as Buddhism spread through the Shilla Kingdom of this region, people began making increasingly artistic and personalized funeral urns to commemorate the dead. Which is all well and good, but it threw a whole new light on this article (click here), which I remember reading a few months ago at The Gazette. There really is nothing new under the sun.

And in other news of the odd, I've become quite the model since arriving in Asia - the whole group has. It seems to be quite the thing to have Americans in your promotional photos, so we get stopped everywhere to get photographed checking out a business or area. In fact, the manager at the local Costco said he'd hold a party for us if we just took a picture at the store. The latest episode was being flagged down at the palace "ruins" at Gyeong-ju for "City Hall propaganda!" as a bespectacled gent put it, emphasizing his point with wild gesticulations at an oversized camera. It's so bizarre that looking like a tourist - an AMERICAN tourist in particular - is actually a good thing. Of course I can't read all this stuff they print with our pictures ... maybe it's more along the lines of "Come see our latest attraction! Buffoons straight from America! You never know what ludicrous stunt they'll pull next!"