the favorite thing on korean television.

...is, without a doubt, the Starcraft channel!
As far as I can tell, 24 hours a day, this channel shows episodes of competitive video games. And as much as I (good-naturedly, natch) ribbed the Koreans for their obsession with starcraft, I have to admit that it makes riveting television, watching two hardcore gamers go at it live on television. It has it all: early game blitzkriegs, successful gambits, devastating rushes, diversions, etc... ha ha! And I can understand it all without knowing exactly what the announcer are saying!

The announcers, strangely, are always dressed more formally than even football announcers in Canada or the states. Shirts and ties, even though the target market is (I assume) adolescent.

One thing warmed my heart: during a playoff tournament, the camera panned over the studio audience, and I saw a couple supportive fathers cheering on their sons. Now, in the States video games are still vilified as the producers of heartless psychopaths... maybe what's needed is an American channel showing competitive games of Grand Theft Auto Deathmatch or the like. Imagine if America comes to understand the realm of competitive video gaming, or to know and cheer on their favorite players...!

By the way, yesterday our building had a small fire... one of the signs on the floor under our English hagwon caught fire right after the last class had gone home. So I got to see korean firefighters in their element. First an air raid drill, now a fire. What's next? A korean episode of COPS? Incidentally, the cops here don't seem very intimidating, except for the dudes at the airport with submachine guns.

the second post.

Dear friends,
Let's start off as all others before us, with 'cultural observations.' This is the equivalent of leaning out of the tour bus and taking pictures of every familiar Western fast food joint in the country, or remarking on how weird the locals act. But wait, first to clean the palate:


If you'll remember, the last time I posted I had just met up with my boss (actually not really, but we'll get to that) thanks to a friendly visitor to Canada that could instantly discern the plight of a confused newcomer (having been one at some point, I assume.) Han directs me across the street and we dodge a motorscooter on the sidewalk. That shit right there? Dodging motor vehicles on the sidewalk? That's very new to me. Next we cut across the playground of a school. It's going on 9:30 at night now, and the park is full of kids playing as if it were noon. I just got back from a stroll as I write this on Saturday evening, and the streets were full of kids. There are a lot of young families here, and the children are up and active until 10pm. Last night, in the alleyway by my window, a bunch of them were smoking an illicit cigarette, if the giggles, coughs and odor are any indication. Mind you, where I am now is described as a new and upwardly mobile suburb of Yongin city, which is forty minutes outside of Seoul. Suburbs = young families.

Of course, calling a place suburban means something different here. I'm going to leave that there, and you can wait for the photographs. The nature of the urban space and architecture here is completely alien to Toronto. You would believe it until I take a picture.

More positive aspects of Korea? Well, these are subjective observations, and understand that I really delight in good, conservationist design. I was happy when I realized that Germany had nothing but water-efficient toilets, and recycled everything. My apartments have motion detecting lights, that come on as you pass and go out if you don't move fast enough. That's cool, whatever. I have a washer but no dryer... again, that's cool. I can live with that. The kitchen sink has an awesome 'bucket' that catches all those kitchen scraps and whatnot. The 'stove' is actually a gas range, not unlike one of those coleman stoves we used when camping.

On the other hand, Koreans are terrible drivers. Partly it's not their fault: a lot of the roads near where I live are actually alleyways, without sidewalks and with just enough space for one car. Except they're two-way streets, which leads to many standoffs. Luckily Koreans are polite. I couldn't see this system working in New York, or anywhere in the United Stubbornness of America.

Fresh off the plane, I had my first day of observation on Monday, my first day of 'teaching' on Tuesday (mostly just introductions and games), and my first 'real' day on Thursday. For this school, the midterms are next week. The week has been pretty stressful as I try and figure out, well, everything. The last teacher left stuff in quite a state, or maybe it just seemed like that because I was so clueless. I spent two-and-a-half hours rearranging the books and syllabi for all my classes.

The kids? They're smart. Scary smart. Understand that I am not a Eurocentrist; I have been informed that the real inventors of the printing press were Asians and not Gutenberg. Even so, it's kinda scary how quickly these kids get down to business, get their work done, and get with the programme. Put it this way: I'm standing in front of the class, assigning work from their workbook and using that time to figure out what to do next and where we are, and they're finishing their work before I can find out what to do with them next. I think back to how I was in grade school, or especially high school. We in the West have been far too complacent. If these kids stay as smart as they are now, they will be ruling shit, no doubt about that. Hopefully they won't let power go to their heads. Nevertheless, they are pretty awesome. "Teacher!! Game!!" They're crazy about Hangman. That's cool; I get the feeling they get worked hard all day. I have to think of some other activities to play with them.

Oh yeah, on Monday I had my first taste of a warzone, in that there was an air raid drill. There I was, reading an hour before class, and I heard sirens. Everyone knows the sound of an air raid siren, by grace of the film industry. As a Canadian, that was all I knew them to be: a cinematic convention. When I heard them, I put on my shoes and ran outside, and realized that everyone was walking around looking bored, smoking, pushing strollers... Okay, if they aren't worried, than I won't be either. I took a deep breath and went back to my reading.

it begins...

Around Thursday I had two phone messages in my mailbox, the first from my recruiter: my visa was ready and waiting for me at the Korean embassy. 'Oh, and I hope it's okay... I booked you a flight for Saturday...' the second phone message was from the travel agent: my ticket was ready and waiting for me to pick it up.

This meant that I could stop sleeping on couches, and that I would have two days to visit my friends one last time, and get everything done that generally needed doing. Those 'things' were based on guesswork, and internet hearsay. Messageboard polls generally indicated vague guidelines of what I would need to bring with me, in order to live and teach. For example, somebody with numbers for a name suggested bringing Western pillows and blankets because Korean pillows were 'weird.' Another suggested bringing plenty of Jell-O because it was unheard of here. I was generally finding the information insufficient, but going through the motions of informing myself was soothing.

I did invest in a digital camera. I had done some photography as a teenager, but then gradually found the cost of film too expensive. Plus I started to resent how having a camera changes your behaviour: I could be watching something beautiful, and see a dozen people around me compulsively snapping pictures, never experiencing the reality of it but through viewfinders. Coming home with a bunch of useless facsimiles, useful for nothing more than boring relatives or emergency kindling. I decided that if I couldn't remember the thing on my own, it wasn't worth carrying around a bunch of pictures of it.

I'm trying to reach a happy compromise. For my last two days in Toronto I became one of 'those people' that insists on taking pictures of their friends at parties and bars... Oh, how I hate those people! But I decided I was going to bring a chunk of Toronto with me across the ocean. Besides, the evening before my flight was a 'drag party', and the pictures are priceless.

Four-thirty in the morning and I'm still a little drunk, saying goodbye to my cat, and my parents drive up to take me to the airport. (Trust me, it was their idea... I wouldn't dare impose on somebody like that).

Korean air hostesses have a strange uniform... they wear scarves that stick straight out, so that one end of the scarf is sticking out in front of their left shoulder, and the other just under their left earlobe. Their cheer was paranormal. For these reasons, they struck terror into my heart. It was a thirteen hour flight, and while the smiles never cracked, strains of humanity shone forth, and I respected them deeply. Especially when one was pouring red wine, and the plane banked deeply. She set her jaw and managed not to pour the wine onto her powder-blue uniform.

I hate customs. About 5 hours into the flight the hostesses brought around declaration forms. I had a leatherman in my suitcase, and I convinced myself that such a thing could lead to me being called into a windowless room with non-English speaking cops, upset that I brought a deadly weapon into the country and neglected to declare it before getting onto the plane. As it turned out, the customs official didn't speak English, actually didn't speak at all, just stamped my papers and waved me on.

It was positively balmy in Korea. In Canada, there had been snow on the same day I got my phone message. Suddenly all my layers of clothing were superfluous. And I was weighed down by my luggage, staggering around like a maniac. I called my new boss and made arrangements to take an airport shuttle bus to Suji. I was informed that there were three different ways to reach Suji. I chose one based on guesswork, and staggered over a businessman to claim one of the last seats on the bus. I realized in short order that all countries must alike, when travelling on expressways at night. Right about now I was feeling pretty confident: no major incidents, problems, confusions, embarassments, etc. Except now I realized that there were four different Suji stops, and I didn't know what Han (my boss) looked like. The businessman beside me tried to help me as best he could. I guess I looked confused. Thanks, Mr. Businessman. Sorry about bumping you with my pounds of carry-on luggage. I got off the bus at the stop he suggested. And I was standing around looking lost no longer than seven seconds before I was approached by another Korean, who called Han and explained where we were very quickly. Turns out he was wearing a 'Team Canada' sweatshirt and had studied English in New Brunswick. I don't know if it was because I was tired or still culturally acclimated that I only noticed the sweater much later, and realized how rare it would be here.

To be continued...

hmm...

I guess they heard I was coming.

"Oh shit! Eric's coming! Everyone look busy!"


Har har har.

Anyway, I haven't been posting here because I haven't left yet, nor known when I could leave. I'm visiting the Korean embassy tomorrow to get my visa, and they should give me a timeframe from which I can plan my flight. So, the wheels are in motion. (motion!)