<< June 2006 | | August 2006 >>
July 29, 2006 >> Scorpion FeastI am currently on Khao San road in Bangkok... it is full of beautiful people and rather overwhelming in its hustle. I just ate a scorpion and it tasted crunchy and was not delicious. Pieces of tail are stuck in my teeth. I must go.
Posted by Chris at 02:38 PM >> Commentations (3) | Permalink
July 28, 2006 >> Just Sayin'
I'm going to Bankok in about two hours and I have no idea where I'm gonna sleep tonight. All I have is a backpack full of clothes and a notebook and a list of exotic items which I somehow need to procure and return to the relative safety of Korea. Also an umbrella. Monsoon season sucks.
Posted by Chris at 11:18 PM >> Commentations (0) | Permalink
July 27, 2006 >> Save your soul. Find my droid.
Okay I am back. See, my MoveableType went all crazy and nonfunctional because it is part of a "computer" and computers are liable to fuck up wherever the slightest chance of fuck-up-ability exists. I have moved past this unpleasant aspect of 21st century living for the most part, and I was busy doing other things like smuggling giant frogs out of Tattooine anyway.
In the end, the Light Side outweighed the Dark by the slimmest of margins despite my propensity for randomly murdering merchants and other innocents. In video games, redemption for such terrible acts is pretty straightforward: you just find some lady who needs you to find her runaway robot slave, complete her retrieval mission and POW! you're suddenly Good again. Except sometimes being Good involves killing the robot... I don't pretend to understand the intricate nuances of ethical polarity, I just needed the all-important Good designation in order to equip the baddest-ass armour on my main guy. Basically you just choose whatever option reminds you the most of a condescending Catholic and you're home free.
So after all was said and done (and killed), an understanding Jedi Council glossed over my homicidal slips across the galaxy and now I'm a hero. What is a hero, exactly? To me, a hero means not having to play this damned game anymore.
I am full of wine and raw fish and various other aquatic things. The combination is not conducive to structured thought. Perhaps I will take another stab tomorrow, somewhere in the narrow crack between phonics and Phuket.
Posted by Chris at 11:45 AM >> Commentations (0) | Permalink
July 19, 2006 >> Mania
I am a filthy antisocial lately. The source of my isolation? An old enemy, returned to wholly devour my waking (non-teaching) hours. It's pretty sad - I push myself through 11 straight hours of jabbering children just so I can sit on my computer and play Star Wars until I pass out. It has become incentive to live.
I've woven this pattern before: if past instances with The Game Video are any indication, I will ignore any and all social responsibility for the next week or so in favour of watching Jedi do badass lightsaber flips on my computer screen. I will become extremely vindictive and surly and irritable if anyone tries to pull me away from this entrancing image. Then, ultimately, I will burn myself and never manage to beat the game. I will tell myself that I will come back one day... finish it when I have more time... but once the madness subsides, I never play again. The only road to success lies through the straits of furious obsession.
I stride the path, Force within me.
[antisocial] [obsession] [video games]
Posted by Chris at 09:21 AM >> Commentations (5) | Permalink
July 17, 2006 >> Boryeong Mud Festival
Korea is fully into its dreadful rainy season and we've seen more than a week of near-ceaseless downpour. It only seemed right to make the West Coast trek to Daecheon beach, the place where torrent and earth kiss and make babies. The Boryeong Mud Festival (in its ninth annual incarnation) is a well-touted event at which people gather to soak their bodies in grey silt and get hammered in the surf. Everyone's invited, especially foreigners. We are foreigners - we like drinking Cass beer out of filthy sand-encrusted bottles as much as anybody - and we went.
I had imagined that a mud festival would be an enormous expanse of muddy plains full of frolicking idiots, like those grainy videos of Woodstock. This particular mud festival, however, was more carefully administered. The mud was not found where one might expect, like say on the ground, but rather distributed in large jugs that were immediately snatched by American military jarheads who brushed it all over their Korean girlfriends' breasts. Mud wrestling took place in a large inflatable romper room. The mud slide was also inflatable. The festival itself seemed rather inflatable, but nonetheless joyous and a good excuse to litter the ocean with crushed beer cans. And if you wanted a souvenir, you could buy mud. It's therapeutic!
A tenuous deal was struck somewhere in nature's strange balance and the weather held. The afternoon pressed on, the tide rushed in and the crowds pushed back. Mud caked flesh and built an army of fully-poseable granite action figures. Moving statues played soccer, football, frisbee, molestation games. Everyone was a pleasing shade of grey - you couldn't tell who was white or black, Korean or a dinosaur. It was the best anti-racism initiative of all time. Mud was in our eyes and down my pants and the ocean was the saltiest water I've ever tasted. All around us, waves thirstily licked the grey off so we could revert to familiar systems of beauty and discrimination.
At dinner, a drunken Korean man kissed me on the lips. Three times. Gah. And then I had to save him from stumbling into oncoming traffic. How fair is that?
Pretty fair I guess, because we ate all his friends' food and drank all their soju and told them that we would be BEST FRIENDS FOREVER about a billion times (the next morning we hardly looked at each other). But still, having men kiss you is pretty freaky shit.
Later that night, we spun poi on the beach and I hit myself in the balls with a flaming cylinder of fire. I am getting better but will soon be charred and impotent from trying. Belinda and Mike gathered a crowd of awed onlookers (poi firespinners are native to Thailand, not Korea) with feats of wild dexterity and daring-do. Slowly the crowd became the show and people stepped forward to try for themselves. Every wielder of the poi was burnt handily, but good times were had and we all learnt a few things about safety and not mangling your face with flaming gasoline.
A roll of toilet paper makes an excellent portable beach fire. Firework shows light up the sky prettily and help you find your cigarette lighter.
And sometimes (not always, but sometimes), if your friends are flipping around in the sand a short bald effeminate man will come over and say, "Oh no no no... that is not how you do a cartwheel," and then proceed to teach them how to do front handstands and back-arch walkovers. He will be a semi-professional coach, very encouraging, and regale the world with stories about how he taught football players to do triple backflips, so of course he can teach two girls how to do a handstand if only they'll remember to "look through their window." The whole thing will be very surreal, especially with people constantly tripping over buoy rope and falling on their faces in the background.
Chad will get ripping drunk and run into the sea, searching for an elusive Balls Mantis. Balls Mantis is everywhere, he is a catalyst for pain and togetherness and gigantic balloons and extra spicy food. Balls Mantis knows your mom, but you can never find him in a crowd.
The next day it rained. I got mud in my eye and ate a snail. Snails die very gracelessly, retreating into their shell in a futile attempt to escape the heat of the grill. Then they pop and their life runs out their shell and falls, sizzling, into the coals below. Their corpse tastes like rubber dipped in a whale's vagina.
I love the beach, but let's go home now.
[Korea] [Boryeong Mud Festival] [Daecheon Beach]
Posted by Chris at 08:40 AM >> Commentations (5) | Permalink
July 12, 2006 >> Nature's notice
Due to typhoons hitting the southern coast and other such ilk, it has been rainy and shitty here all week. But at least I got to see an old man rolling in a torrential gutter, wrestling with his uncooperative umbrella as the elements turned his life into slapstick. Thanks for that, tropical storm!
Posted by Chris at 02:45 PM >> Commentations (1) | Permalink
July 11, 2006 >> Relative Suckage
It's funny how the grass on the other side of the fence looks - if not greener - at least a lot easier to chew. Right now I am thinking, "Holy Christ I spend a LOT of time and energy suppressing child revolutions... teaching 10 hours a day is pretty exhausting, I can't wait 'til all I'm doing is reading and writing some chump essays." Working during the summer break was pretty much the same thing: "This is such garbage, once September rolls around I'll be using my brain FO REAL again!" I always have these delusions of academic grandeur.
But of course once you have three papers due in one week, you long for the days when you woke up, did your mind-numbing shit job for the day and went home to get baked. What the fuck!
[school] [work] [relative suckage]
Posted by Chris at 11:32 AM >> Commentations (4) | Permalink
July 10, 2006 >> Everything/Nothing
Does anyone else remember those olden days of the internet when websites used to operate under a self professed designation of e/n - everything/nothing - in an attempt to justify being as unfocused and irrelevant as possible? I haven't heard the term in a while. I think perhaps the word 'blog' has risen and swallowed up e/n into a much greater definition of uselessness.
Wheeeeeeeee I am now practicing killing mosquitoes in my room for forthcoming forays into the insect-laden mires of Asia Minor. This weekend we'll get covered in mud and make filthy asses of ourselves at something appropriately titled "Mudfest", while later this month I'll be in Thailand. Three days with Chad and Jen and Matt down south in Phuket, four days poking around Bankok and the north by my lonesome. I am not embarrassed to say that solo-ing Bankok seemed like a daunting prospect at first. It is somewhat of a Big Step.
Stupid introspective moment (an important part of e/n): I am learning more about actually living self-sufficiently rather than just preaching it. Here in Korea I have met a number of people who zoom about the world fearlessly without a plan, and find their lack of reservation pretty cool. I still remember when getting from Waterloo to Toronto on my own seemed stressful, as lame as that sounds, but I don't exactly have what they call a 'naturally adventurous personality'. I used to have a 'controlling personality' - I loved video games, where you can control everything, at your own pace, without real risk - but have been edging myself away slowly and surely.
I am starting to let go of possessions and fears, a gradual process in which I find myself moving toward a life I think will be more enjoyable. This existence has a higher percentage of ending in horrible and unnatural death, through poverty or random Bankok bludgeonings or what have you, but I can assure you that I'm happier than I used to be. It is very difficult for me to explain without sounding ridiculously New Age, but I think a lot of people our age are unsatisfied because they've removed all the challenge from their lives. The safety nets are firmly in place.
And I can't possibly advocate a generational shift in priorities, because many people don't feel the need for change, but I'm telling you that I don't feel stagnant or bored anymore. I feel pretty damn good. I feel a lot. And I don't just want to feel this way until I get a Real Job or settle down, I want to always be at this place because I think that it would kill me to grind to a halt and then always be reminiscing and looking for some kind of cheap substitute.
So anyway, I'm going to Bankok to test my luck a little further. If I die there, it'd be okay. All the happy people I know live somewhere between Everything and Nothing, and the smart ones know that Nothing is inevitably on its way.
Posted by Chris at 10:09 AM >> Commentations (2) | Permalink
July 09, 2006 >> Twins, Born and Made
Last week a new pair of students were added to one of my classes, which is already flowing with childrenry to the point where I regularly have to steal chairs from other rooms to accommodate them all. I was like, "Oh fuck, seriously, MORE!?" and then my boss told everyone to be nice to them and I said that I would probably make them cry because overcrowding pisses me off. Then two girls shyly picked their way into the room (after boss-lady had rammed their seats into two non-spots at the corners of the table).
The new girls were dressed the same and looked the same; they were twins. All week they wore identical clothes and I dubbed them Katie-Jenny and Jenny-Katie. They had to wear nametags to remember which one was Katie-Jenny and which was Jenny-Katie. When I accidentally made Jenny-Katie cry because she didn't do her homework, her sister glanced at her with a quivering lip and began weeping too. I can assure you that there is no more heart-wrenching, pitiable sight than two identical Korean twins crying because they didn't write their Word Bank 3 times.
You've maybe probably most-definitely noticed that the world works in the following way: when you've become aware of some new facet of life, such as a new word or phenomenon, you will see it everywhere around you for a little while. All week I've noticed Korean twins. Twin babies in twin prams going to Emart, twin boys eating squid with their grandfather under the subway station. And twins under the jurisdiction of their proud parents are always dressed the same in this country, without fail. As a twin you are part of a package deal, sharing experiences and a wardrobe with your sibling until you are driven by an insane lust for autonomy and independence to far corners of the world (or city). And did I mention that you don't get to choose your own clothes?
Oddly enough, couples often dress in the same manner. You'll see a boy and a girl with matching jeans and striped shirts, and then another high school couple in army shorts and identical Ask Enquired tops (often in the same size, no joke). To me this seems like somewhat of a hideous prospect, voluntarily eschewing your personal selfdom in order to become part of some kind of exclusive Hey Everyone, We're Fucking!! club, but it's a really popular trend here.
Me and Mike once asked Sun-hi about this madness. She said that many couples have at least two or three matching sets of clothes, and that she herself had participated in this guilty synergy in the past. But she couldn't explain WHY, which is certainly the most important question. Does the girl think it's cute and strong-arm her man into acquiescing? Maybe the guy sees it as a form of possession: hey man, back off, we're clearly together because we're wearing the same fucking outfit. This shit doesn't happen by accident, y'feel?
Whatever the surface reason, matching couples are obviously an outward expression of a need to belong. Just like twins are made to exhibit their rare connection with parallel overalls, lovers choose to very plainly show the world a certain depth of commitment with their linked appearance. Korea is an extremely image-centric country, so I guess it shouldn't be surprising that public image serves as a useful vehicle for declaring codependency.
But you gotta wonder, what happens to the outfits when hearts snap and the two pieces flutter to the floor and have to pick themselves up as individual entities once more? Do the matching clothes get burnt when a couple breaks up? Buried in a landfill? When Koreans sever a relationship they usually really sever it, avoiding any and all contact with the ex and generally pretending the whole messy affair never happened. "Let's just be friends" is an unacceptable prospect. So it would be pretty fucked to hit the streets one day, regrettably catch sight of your former lover and, even more regrettably, still be wearing matching BLACK MUSIC CLUB shirts. In canary yellow.
A few times I have seen two people pass each other on the street, suddenly realize they are wearing the same clothes and do a huge double-take. I watch their faces and can only imagine what they're thinking: "Did I just miss meeting my soulmate?" They probably go home and seriously re-evaluate. It's even funnier if two guys are wearing identical outfits, or if someone passes a couple and all three are wearing the same thing: "What, am I gay now?" or "Did I just miss having a threesome?" Back home the reaction would be quite different. "That bitch shops at The GAP."
Sometimes I see kids on the street run into similarly attired counterparts and wonder if they think they've just met their long-lost twin. Then they each laugh, because they know they're the one that Oma and Apa really love and this other poor bastard got sent to another family for being second-best.
Update: Photographic evidence, thoughtfully provided by Mr. Mike!
[Korea] [twins] [matching clothes] [identical couples]
Posted by Chris at 06:02 AM >> Commentations (3) | Permalink
July 05, 2006 >> Piety and Spiritual Warfare at Olympic Park
There's a place in Seoul where the Olympic flame still burns. It flickers dimly, a wisp sheltering beneath a proud monument to the days when Korea was the centerpiece of the world for a brief instant in history. Unsurprisingly, this place is called Olympic Park. In Hangul it is probably called something else.
Inline skaters in latex whiz around the outside perimeter of smooth asphalt, criss-crossing between families on bikes, possibly training for short-track speed skating. That is, the skaters are training, not the families: I imagine that taking 10 000 photos of your children and crashing a wobbly bicycle into large ceremonial rocks doesn't really boost your Olympic prospects.
Down by the pond, an assembly of young Western kids studiously practice taekwondo. Kick, turn, punch-punch SCREAM. Nearby, the murky waters ripple: an army of bloodthirsty seals lurk beneath the surface. Soon they will emerge under the command of a particularly ornery sea lion, and fierce hand-to-flipper conflict will test the would-be martial artists' skills to their limits. The seals have ambitions too. The 2020 Summer Games in Aquarius.
During the Seal Revolutions, it is best for civilians to take shelter in handily provided lawn sculptures. These stockades are well protected against slapping flippers and, as a side benefit, work nicely as a prop for anyone who ever wanted to be the three-headed knight from Monty Python.
Beyond the edges of the park, industrious Koreans have built an enormous glass prison for God. He presides within a curious synthesis of Old World architecture and hideous lite-steel modernity. God's techno-cathedral proclaims that He is, in fact, a mega-powerful translucent robot with flat-screen LCD displays for eyes. Let us pray to Godatron: deliver us from evil, and perhaps also rampaging seals if we may presume to direct thy Holy Monitors towards a specifically pressing issue.
Big thumbs sometimes look like big penises in certain light. Kindly do not worship the giant thumb-penis. Recall that thou shalt not put any graven image before Godatron. Wonder freely why such a blasphemy exists in the first place: is it a giant thumbs-up over how absolutely fucking rad Korea is? Perhaps a witness to certain overcompensations? Can we even begin to surmise its infinite meaning?
Anyway the important thing is that you don't start worshipping the thumb. Our Lord can totally transform into this crazy psychedelic tiger-mech thing with world-rending claws when he's in a purging mood, so let's not take our chances, okay? We need Him on our side. Remember He lives just down the block and He's already got enough problems on His collection plate, what with the seals and memorializing the Olympics and all.
[Seoul, Korea] [Olympic Park] [the Seal Revolution] [Godatron, may he live forever]
Posted by Chris at 10:08 AM >> Commentations (0) | Permalink
July 04, 2006 >> Stop and Evaluate
It's time for public school testing again in Korea, a wonderful week in which small children frantically cram for the sake of their futures and very survival. The middle school (Gr. 7-9) exam schedule consists of a whopping TWELVE SUBJECTS including English, Chinese, Korean, math, science, ethics, and some crazy ones that wouldn't count for anything back home like art, home ec. and physical education. It's pretty funny when kids are worried they won't get into university because they can't paint a realistic puppy or jump over a springboard, but pretty sad as well.
Lots of older kids have been ditching hagwon classes in order to buy some desperation study time (ditch school to study... hmmmm). In a dark riposte, we have mercilessly added Speaking Tests to the current upheaval of student evaluations, with some strange results:
Inquisitor: What are these?
Little Girl: *weeps softly*
Inquisitor: Boots. They are boots.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Inquisitor: How can an English teacher who doesn't know Korean communicate with Korean children who don't know any English?
Elizabeth: A Korean teacher can come. The teacher can said to the Korean teacher, the Korean teacher can said to the children, the children can said to the Korean teacher, the Korean teacher can said to the teacher. Then they learn the English.
Inquisitor: So the Korean teacher could translate?
Elizabeth: Yes. That one is it. Good job!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Inquisitor: How do you feel?
Eddy: I am hamburger.
[Korea] [hagwon] [student testing] [evaluations]
Posted by Chris at 05:13 AM >> Commentations (2) | Permalink
July 02, 2006 >> Fire Hazard
Once upon a time in the recent past, there was a fire station that served the noble duty of protecting the people of Sanbon from fires and rabid street rats and even bigger fires. We went there. There was no fire pole; the Belinda Unit was noticeably perturbed.
The children were conscripted into duty. All the firefighters were sent home to find the remnants of their families. Once upon a time they, too, had come to the fire station on a field trip... 30 years ago. Their replacements had finally arrived: they were free at last.
It was discovered that children, even in sizeable numbers, are incapable of handling a high-pressure water hose on their own. The firefighter replacement program had hit a snag, at least until puberty arrived. Still, there was time for the investment to mature.
Twice upon a time, I was a robot, insulated against radiation and acid-spitting dinosaurs and ridicule. My mechanical limbs went "WRRRRRRR" and "MEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRR" with the hard, calculating motion of an automaton driven by disco style and programmable servitude. I was bonded to the Korean human beings in their endless war against fire.
But deep inside still beat the warm heart of a man, the thick blood of an ancestral link too potent to smother with cold steel alone. Somewhere deep inside I was still me. I could still feel.
One day you will be rescued, Junior Firefighters of Sanbon. One day I will come back for you.
[Sanbon, Korea] [fire station]
Posted by Chris at 04:08 AM >> Commentations (2) | Permalink