In The Clouds With Buddha's Ghost

(The author perched atop Shin-Bul San enveloped in a cloud)

(Disclaimer: It's difficult for me to come up with witty-sounding titles for these posts, and so I apologize for shamelessly employing blatantly Orientalist titles in this post and the previous post about Daewangam that sound like rejected titles for a Bruce Lee movie).

Yesterday when I arrived at work, my director, Mr. Park, asked if I had any plans for the weekend. I answered honestly that I didn't, although I was hoping to get some rest and fully recover from the chest cold I've been suffering from all week (just one of the many joys of working with children). He invited me to join him for a hike on Saturday, and I told him I would without thinking about what that would entail. Apparently, one of the students at the academy saw me on my Munsu-san excursion last weekend and so I seem to have developed a reputation as an avid hiker amongst the Korean staff, which should amuse those of you that know me. He was very excited and told me he would pick me up from my apartment at 8:10 the next morning. I spent the rest of the day wondering why I had agreed to go hiking and commit to waking up early (by my standards) on a Saturday morning, but as I discovered it was totally worth it.

Mr. Park arrived with two of his friends (whose names I promptly forgot- it's still difficult for me to remember Korean names, they all seem to be varying combinations of the same syllables, and everyone has one of about ten surnames, but that's neither here nor there)














(That's Mr. Park on the left)
and we drove about 45 minutes outside of Cheonsang to the Yeongnam Alps, another of Ulsan's 12 designated scenic areas. As one of Mr. Park's friends put it, "The car does 80% of the climb for us!" We parked at the trailhead, already close to 1000 meters up the mountain. It was still early enough that the clouds were still hanging quite low over the mountain range, and so we ascended into the clouds, up Shin-Bul San (literally "Buddha's Ghost Mountain") about 1200 meters above sea level:














It was a steep ascent, but the trail was much better than Munsu-san's. After arriving at the summit, we headed across a ridge connecting several peaks in the Yeongnam range. Here, some construction workers were hard at work assembling a stage for tomorrow's Mountain-Wheat Festival, which Mr. Park told me would attract around 30,000 mountain enthusiasts:














Here is a view of some of the other peaks through the wheat fields that run along the range. During the Korean War, North Korean-partisan guerillas hid out in these fields and did battle with the South Korean army:














We stopped for a short break, and I learned that in addition to the near-uniform hiking outfits that Koreans wear, another part of the hiking ritual is bringing snacks along. And these aren't just plastic baggies full of trail mix. We had two different types of rice cakes, fruit, and some sort of coffee drink. Others on the trail had kimchi, rice, fish cake, and more. Afterwards, we continued on to the second peak, Yeong-Chuk San, climbing high above one of the oldest and most famous Buddhist temples in Korea, Tongdosa, which purports to house some relics of the Buddha himself. Here is the view from the top:














On the way back, I captured this scene of the foliage beginning to turn. Apparently, the peak season will be at the end of October:














And here is a what the valley below looks like. Through the haze is Eonyang, another part of Ulsan's sprawl:














After the outing, we drove back to Ulsan where one of Mr. Park's friends treated us to lunch at a Chinese restaurant. They made a point of letting me know that the dish itself was not actually Chinese, rather a "Chinese-inspired" Korean dish. Mr. Park made plans to take me and Jessica, my roomate and fellow wayguk teacher, on a hike up one of South Korea's highest peaks, Seorak-san, in November. He was concerned that neither of us had proper footwear, so he insisted on buying us both pairs of hiking boots, calling them chuseok (the upcoming Korean Thanksgiving) presents. I was extremely grateful and surprised that I had such a generous director.

So, in summation, it was quite a day and I'm glad I agreed to go. The Yeongnam Alps have some of the most beautiful mountains I've ever had the pleasure of seeing in person, and for someone who grew up on Mount Desert Island, that's saying a lot.

Quirks Part VII

So... yesterday I took a four-hour long hike up and down Munsu-san, another one of Ulsan's 12 scenic areas (and the endpoint of the network of trails in Cheonsang that I posted about earlier). It was a fantastic way to spend a Sunday afternoon, even if Korean trail-building leaves much to be desired (and I thought the streets here were narrow!) and some of the sections were ridiculously steep. The view from the summit of Munsu-san was truly stunning, encompassing all of Ulsan and its "suburbs." However, I neglected to bring my camera along with me, so I have nothing to show here for my adventure. I will have to go back, perhaps once the leaves start changing. In the meantime, you the reader have to suffer through another in the series of "Quirks" posts.

The ability to have clean clothes on demand without having to pay a premium to a cleaning service or enduring back-breaking labor is always welcome. And I am fortunate enough to have been provided with a washing machine that grants me that ability. However, this washing machine is certainly not the most legible of its ilk, especially to someone whose grasp of Korean is spotty at best. Here is a view of the control panel:














As you can see, all of the controls are in Korean. Thankfully, Jessica had one of her Korean friends translate everything for her, and she jotted down a cheat sheet of sorts that is taped to our refrigerator. Thus, I am able to make it do what I want it to do. But I have never seen a washing machine with so many bells and whistles, so many options for cleaning clothes. I think I might use five of those buttons since I've been scared to try pushing any of the other ones.

Another thing that amuses me is the logo on the front of the machine (in case you can't read it, the English reads "Genetic Algorithim"):














Could someone please clue me in on what a "genetic algorithim" has to do with washing clothing (let alone what the phrase "genetic algorithim" means)?

On The Backs of Sleeping Dragons

Today was one of those perfect autumn days in Ulsan, and so I decided to make the journey clear to the other side of the city, to Bangeojin, in order to visit Islan Beach:














as well as one of Ulsan's official 12 scenic areas: Daewangam Songnim (Rock and Pine Forest), billed as the second most beautiful spot of the Korean East Coast, which makes me really want to the see the most beautiful spot. The trip there from Cheonsang takes just over an hour and a half, but what awaits is worth it. The Pine Forest covers the bluff to the right of Ilsan Beach, and includes several walking paths through the 15,000 pine trees. Here are just a few of them:














But the the real draw is the Rock itself. Legend has it that Queen Munmu of the Silla Dynasty (7th century A.D.) became a guardian dragon after her death and was submerged off the coast of Ulsan, forever protecting the city and the Korean peninsula against foreign invasion (which if you know anything about Korean history in the 20th century you understand she didn't do a very good job). Here is what the Queen looks like in the third millenium:














And here is a view of the lighthouse overlooking the harbor:



















I know that most of the pictures I've posted here seem to represent Ulsan as a city of idyllic beauty. Much that I wish that were the case, this is what the rest of Ulsan looks like:














As you can see, the local Hyundai factory (which stretches for literally dozens of blocks throughout Bangeojin) makes its presence known as well.

I'll end this post with my favorite picture of the day (because of its sheer oddness):














(In case you can't tell, that's a Samsung monitor being thrown about in the surf).

Quirks Part VI

Ok, so this one isn't a very quirky change, but it's a change nonetheless. Above is a picture of the bag I use at our local Cheonsang Top Mart, the grocery store. Each bag costs about 50 won, which is a measly 5 cents American, but it adds up. Thus, it is much more economical and environmentally sound to re-use old bags, which (unfortunately) requires me to remember to bring a bag with me when I head over to go shopping. The Top Mart check-out ladies are always all smiles, and one of them even speaks English relatively well, so she loves practicing with me when I come in. She also talked me into getting a Top Mart card so I can save on my purchases. Unfortunately, the application is all in Korean and the lady who runs the card application desk doesn't speak any English, so I haven't actually gotten my card yet. But it does give me a practical goal to shoot for in my Korean language study; one day soon I hope to know enough to fill out the form!

Quirks Part V

This one I can honestly say I had never seen before, and it ties in with some of the local flavor so I've decided to include it here. This is a picture of the controls on the fan in my bedroom (sorry for the poor quality):














The bottom dial controls the strength on the fan, and the top dial is a timer that automatically shuts the fan off after a specified period of time. Why is there a need for the top dial? It speaks to something called "fan death," which is apparently a widespread notion in Korea. I hesitate to call it a superstition, and fear and belief are a bit too strong. Basically, "fan death" is the notion that if one leaves the fan on for a prolonged period of time (especially overnight) in an enclosed space (bedroom, car, etc.), then death could result from hypothermia or suffocation. I am told that every year there are a few reports on the news of people who succumbed to fan death, certainly a tragic ending. Follow the links for more than you'd ever want to know about it.

Today also marks my one-month anniversary in Korea, although it feels like it's been much longer, I think because I settled into a routine so quickly.

Also, this is the worst news I've heard all week (but I'll say more about it an upcoming baseball post).

Quirks Part IV

This is surely one of the stranger adjustments anyone living in Korea for the first time must make. I know I'm not the first to highlight this, but I think it's kind of interesting. Here is what my shower head looks like:














Nothing strange about that. Now look at where that white hose leads:














There is a dial that must be turned either up or down in order to use the faucet or the shower. They can't be used simulataneously. Also, there is a water heater control in the apartment that must be turned on before attempting to take a hot shower, and it usually takes about twenty minutes for it to warm up, so showers must be carefully planned out.

Shanshan

I almost forgot to mention my first experience with a typhoon this weekend. Well, ok, it wasn't much of an experience. Typhoon "Shanshan" sort of skirted the East coast of the Korean peninsula, where Ulsan is located, and we experienced some heavy rain and high winds. As far as I could tell, there wasn't much (if any) damage done. I spent most of the day inside cleaning the apartment and creating tests for one of my classes, but in the evening I ventured downtown to meet Jessica, some of her Korean friends from Ulsan University and a couple of foreign teachers for some soju and anju. My umbrella popped wrong-side up a couple of times, but otherwise it was just like being in a really bad storm. Japan had it much worse, apparently, where Shanshan actually made landfall.

Quirks Part III

I assumed that I would primarily be using chopsticks to eat with during my stay before I even arrived, but when I pictured chopsticks I thought of the wooden kind that come in a paper sleeve in bags of Chinese take-out back home. I didn't picture these:














Honestly, I'd never seen stainless steel chopsticks before (and I don't whether that makes me uncultured or just plain ignorant about East Asian eating utensils). As it turns out, they are much more difficult to eat with than the wooden variety. I think it has something to do with friction, but for whatever reason, these things make me look like a fool any time I'm eating anything remotely slippery. I've gotten much better with them since I arrived (practice makes perfect!), but I still have difficulty with certain dishes. Incidentally, we also have forks, knives and spoons at the apartment, but I like to use chopsticks whenever I can so that I can master my skills. My index and middle fingers on my right hand have gotten much stronger also, developing muscles I never knew existed.

Of course, I fully support the idea of stainless steel chopsticks because they are reusable, and therefore good for the environment. I don't know how prevalent their use is in other Asian countries (I welcome any and all comments from anyone who can tell me), but I do know that China has recently had a national debate over wooden vs. non-wooden chopsticks.

Also worthy of note is that some of my students, especially the younger ones, don't know how to use chopsticks yet. A few older Koreans have told me stories of how they learned how to use them. I makes me wonder what the learning curve is like for chopsticks as opposed to the trinity of fork-knife-spoon. Everyone seems to have developed a personalized method that works best for them (so much for the aforementioned paper chopstick sleeves and their attempts to promote homogeneity of chopstick usage with those clever three-frame cartoon instructions). Some of Koreans I've met have been impressed that I even remotely knew how to use chopsticks and are curious about where I learned, whereas others have been amused by my attempts to pick up a piece of mu (Korean radish).

Quirks Part II

The Korean custom regarding shoes (although I'm fairly certain it isn't limited only to Korea) has been easy to adjust to, and I even see the pragmatic reasoning behind it. Different articles of footwear are restricted to their respective domains. For example, here is the progression of footwear I might go through in a typical day. I begin the day with these in-house slippers:














When I enter the bathroom to take a shower, I remove my slippers and don the bathroom sandals:














The bathroom sandals live in the bathroom. I change back into the slippers, and if I have some laundry to do on the balcony, I switch into the balcony sandals:














Finally, as I leave the apartment for work or to go shopping, I put on a pair of outside shoes, which never pass beyond the entryway:














When visiting certain places, such as (some) restaurants, the academy, or other apartments/houses, the outside shoes are always removed in the entryway and either in house slippers are provided or one walks around in stocking feet.

I like this system. Not only is it hygienic (and given the fact that some restaurants have floor seating, and some Koreans sleep on wooden mats on the floor, it makes sense), but it also makes one mindful of leaving and entering the separate realms of one's life.

Catch The Mouse

Today is Friday which means that it was game day at school. Whereas most of my classes opted to play bingo, hangman, or win, lose or draw, one class taught me how to play a very popular game here in Korea called "catch the mouse." Apparently, the game was either created or popularized (I'm not sure which) on a Korean game show called "6 Girls." I've seen a few episodes of the show, and I can't quite figure out what the point is, but it's similar to other Korean game shows in that it stars Korean celebrities (all dressed in high school uniforms) who partake in ridiculous games and end up making fools of themselves. Apparently, the core six girls, for whom the show is named, are in charge and make the male guests perform for their entertainment. At any rate, they often play catch the mouse, and it has caught on with many people, especially my students. It's quite simple to play actually; basically, everyone sits in a line and chants "Catch the mouse! Catch the mouse! Catch, catch, catch! How many? How many?" Then the first contestant shouts out how many mice there are. The next person decides either to catch one of the mice, or to smack their forehead and pass. Once the number of mice that were initially decided upon have been caught, everybody must raise their arms and shout "Hooray!" Also, the first person can decide to shout "Cat!" at which point everyone must raise their arms and shout, "Meow!" If someone screws up and forgets how many mice there are left to catch, then they lose, and on the show they get hit with giant, red plastic hammer. Come to think of it, I'm not really sure how this game caught on, but it is kind of easy to become engrossed in it.

Quirks Part I

This is the first of what I hope will be many (or at least a few) posts about the changes in my everyday life since I've moved to Korea. These aren't major alterations to my routine, but slight adjustments to the way things are done back home. The first involves trash disposal. Here is what the door to my apartment looks like on an average day when I come home from work (except, it's dark when I get home, this picture was actually taken during the day):














Food delivery services, deparment stores (a subject for another post), and even the Christians always leave literature/advertisements on the door. Rather than taking them inside and throwing them in the trash can, it is perfectly acceptable to simply tear them down and throw them on the balcony outside the apartment, like this:














Whomever it is who cleans the balconies makes sure that these unwanted solicitations are disposed of properly. Sure, I feel a twinge of guilt when polluting so brazenly, and creating work for someone who shouldn't have to clean up after me, but when in Rome (or Cheonsang)...

In other news: this week has truly been harrowing. There must be something in the water; the children have been absolute horrors. But with some "guidance" from one of the Korean teachers, which at first I was offended by, I have adpated my teaching style and I think my classes are running more smoothly now. Still, some days I feel like there's nothing I can possibly do to reach certain students. Of course, I blame myself and think about what I could be doing to grab their attention. But then there are the students who clearly enjoy my classes and make it all worth it. Thankfully, those are the classes near the end of the day, so I usually end on a good note.

Musings On Local Pop Culture

Although many of you know me as someone who has very strong opinions, I don't really have anything to say about today's "anniversary." Once again, I find myself a stranger in a strange land, just as I did five years ago at this time. And one of the strangest things I've discovered in this strange land is "X-Man," a hugely popular Korean game/variety show, which is the subject of this post.

"X-Man" has been described to me by a Korean friend-of-a-friend as a weaker version of MTV's "Jackass" (is that show even on the air anymore?). Since my understanding of Korean is basically nonexistent, I can't truly appreciate all the intricacies of the show, but the visuals seem to tell the story fairly well. Each episode usually involves Korean celebrities (along with a few regulars, as far as I can tell) competing in completely bizarre contests. As I understand it, one of the contestants has been designated the "X-Man" and is working to sabotage his team's chances of winning. Inevitably, hilarity (Korean-style) ensues. And there are sometimes scantily clad female dancers, too.

But none of that interests the media anthropologist in me so much as how "X-Man" exemplifies some of the generic specificities of Korean television (at least, the Korean television that I've been privy to thus far). There is almost always some text appearing briefly on the screen, not as dramatic as the "Biff"s and "Bam"s of Adam West's "Batman," but similar, in a way. Although I don't know what the messages mean as of yet, I can only assume that they comment directly on the action, thus enhancing it for the audience. Also, several times throughout the broadcast, the action will be stopped and a portion of the scene will be re-shown, usually from a different camera angle. Initially, this is sort of annoying for the unaccustomed viewer, but after a few episodes, one begins to understand how it works with the rythym of the show. At any rate, I haven't really given it enough thought to do it justice here, but I thought I should record my initial observations.

Also, some of you will be interested to know that my life has gotten considerably easier since my two biggest middle-school troublemakers switched to a different hagwon. That alone made this a good day.

At Play on the Corner

I've been meaning to get this photo ever since I moved here, and I finally did! These youngsters are playing some sort of Street Figther-like video game outside of a convenience store. I almost never walk by here without seeing someone playing the game. Outdoor video games and those mechanical claw contraptions seem to be everywhere, although I've been told that the latter are often rigged so as to make it impossible to ever retrieve a prize. Speaking of rigging games, Korea is currently embroiled in the "Sea Story" scandal, which goes to show that Billy Carters and Roger Clintons exist everywhere.

God Squad

(Red neon crosses mark Christian churches all over Korea, inlcuding this one in Cheonsang, one of six in a two block radius)

So, as most of you who know me know, I'm not at all a religious person (hell, I'm not even a spiritual person) and I'm just about the last person who should be commenting about religion, but I would be remiss if I didn't relate my latest incident with religion here in Korea. First, some background to set the scene. My knowledge about religion in Korea is, sadly, limited to hearsay and my Korean guidebook. From what I understand, Korea was traditionally a Buddhist society (don't ask me what branch, I'm not sure I even understand the differences) and there are still Buddhist temples all over the country, and some especially beautiful ones in the mountains I am told. Chinese influence introduced Taoist and Confucian strains of thought, which are still very prevalent today, especially in business. During the Japanese occupation from 1910-1945, Shintoism became the official state religion, forced upon Korea by the Japanese (it's impossible to know how many actual followers of Shintoism there were at this time). Christianity was officially established in the 18th century after centuries of failed attempts by European missionaries. More recently, Christianity has taken off exponentially. Almost 1/3 of the country call themselves Christians, and Seoul has eleven of the twelve largest congregations in the world, inculding the largest church anywhere.

For the past two days, around 11:00 in the morning, the doorbell to the apartment has rung and Jessica and I have been met by two very friendly, very zealous members of The Elohim Church here in Cheonsang. The first time, I was pleasantly surprised and somewhat amused (I was also eating lunch, so Jessica had to deal with them, which may be why I wasn't as annoyed as she was). The second time, however, I took the duty of talking to them and eventually had to politely ask them to leave the apartment because I had to get ready for school. Their English was poor, but they were able to get their point across well, and basically they were like the Korean equivalent of Jehovah's Witnesses, walking door to door trying to save souls. You can't fault them for that. They were very concerned that I would not survive the plagues during the Rapture because I had not partaken in the Passover covenant or something (as Jessica pointed out later, why is it only the people who know that they will be saved that are at all concerned about being saved? ).They even had a sort of palm pilot device with audio files of sermons in English on it, which they played for me, and this was the part that I found most interesting. Part of the sermon dealt with how idolaters would be viciously killed during the plagues, and it made particular mention of so-called "sun worshippers." I couldn't help but wonder whether this was a direct jab at the Japanese and Shintoism, as there is still much tension (if not outright anger) with Japan.

I'm now wondering whether they will be back again today to see whether I've decided I need to be saved or not (for any of you wondering, I don't believe that I have a soul that needs saving, so the answer to that question would be "No"). I suppose if I hear the doorbell, I will just ignore it and let them leave their literature taped to the door like the food delivery services do.

Fast Food Nation

I've been pretty good thus far about cooking my own meals and not eating out, although the manduguk place down the street is delicious and cheap. In general, Koreans seem to be very health-conscious (Note: I hate making general statements about people; I leave that to sociologists... just kidding). Everything seems to either be "healthy" or "not healthy" to them. However, this weekend I was curious about the local fast food joint, Lotteria. Founded in Japan, but now more popular in Korea, Lotteria is a bit like an Asian McDonald's. "Fast" food is a relative term here, as it took more than fifteen mintues for me to actually get my food in a near empty restaurant (which is still a lot better than the half hour I could expect to wait at McDonald's in Prague). The only reason I mention it here is because I was amused by what was decorating one of the walls: written out in English were the lyrics to James Taylor's "You've Got A Friend." And what's more, friend was spelled "freind." I just found the whole thing very odd and wondered whether there was a particular reason for choosing that song, or whether it was just an aesthetic choice to put English on the wall. I am leaning toward the latter explanation given the tendency for Korean television commercials to include songs which seemingly have nothing to do with the product (e.g. a promo for Oprah set to "Hey Mr. Sandman").

Also, according to an impromptu poll I conducted in a few of my classes, my students far prefer Lotteria to McDonald's.

Take a Hike

This afternoon I "discovered" the system of hiking trails in the mountains behind my apartment that I assumed must be there but had yet to actually see. I quickly realized that I was not dressed for hiking, at least not by Korean standards. Most of the hikers' were decked out in what looked almost like uniforms: long synthetic shirts and pants (mostly all black, and keep in mind that it was at least 80 degrees Fahrenheit today!), hiking boots, and a combination of nylon gloves, air-filter facemasks, and large black visors, which serve a dual purpose as sunglasses also. I drew many odd looks from fellow hikers, which could be due to the way I was dressed, or because I was clearly the only foreigner out on the trails. Some simply ignored me, some shielded their children, and others greeted me in English, which they seemed to get a big kick out of. Anyway, it was a thoroughly enjoyable hike, although I'm sure my legs will ache tomorrow as I am woefully out of shape.

I'm not sure whether this is typical of other hiking trails in Korea, but every so often there would appear out of nowhere either a rest stop with wooden benches or some sort of strange exercise area, with pull-up bars, sit-up benches, and, in the case below, weightlifting equipment:



















This particular one had it's own makeshift sunshade as well. Also, near the beginning of the trail there was this:




























which seemed to be cordoned off by some carefully placed branches. There was also a sign in Korean that I couldn't understand, but I imagine it said something like "Do Not Enter."

But the real treat was the view of Cheonsang from one of the peaks:




























The foliage is still too thick to get a better view than those above, but I think the general feeling gets across. I plan on posting some more photos from the trail as soon as autumn arrives.

After the hike, I descended back down into Cheonsang where I ran into several students from the school, including the aforementioned middle-school troublemakers. I told them, "See you tomorrow," to which they replied simply with an unmistakably teenage sneer. I think that might be a universal look.

More Cheonsang Pictures

Here are some more scenic views of Cheonsang, beyond the confines of the apartment.














First, the pond a couple of blocks to the right of my apartment complex. I went for a walk around here yesterday, and it was really nice. There were a couple of turtles hanging out on the floating flower beds near the bridge in the background of this picture, but they darted away into the water before I could snap a picture. Here are some more views from around the pond:




























This is the only building I've found so far that doesn't look like it was built some time after 1980, although it probably was, too:














And finally, a view of a typical Cheonsang street. I'm not sure if you can get a sense of how narrow it actually is, or of the intense signage in the background, but it is an accurate representation of the Cheonsang that isn't simply pastoral beauty:














I've finally figured out how to take a picture without recording the date also, so the next ones that I post won't be so blemished.

The Week in Review

(My school in Cheonsang)

First of all, thank you to some of my fellow EFL teachers in Korea and around the world who commented on the post about my first day of work. It's good to know that I'm not completely off-base with my observations.

Even if the hagwon system has its flaws, it's well-established here, so I don't think it's up to me to go about changing things. Especially in Korea, where criticism is unwelcome and must be passed through the proper chain of command. I count myself lucky to be working for a good, kind director (unlike some unfortunate souls whose stories I've heard of) and to be given this opportunity in the first place. I can, however, change some things in the classroom seeing as I have basically been given carte blanche by the school to teach however I want to.

To fill in some background for my readers, I came to Korea having taught for a year in the Czech Republic, most of which was done on-site in factories, banks, and offices, all with adult students, and all of it conversation based. I used newspaper articles more often than books. This situation is entirely different, which is exactly what I wanted. Teaching children, although difficult at times, is infinitely more rewarding. After some adjustment, on my part and on the part of my students, most of my classes have accepted me as their new teacher, are beginning to understand my teaching style, and I am beginning to be able to curb the bad behavior of the troublemakers. The latter applies mostly to the elementary school students; a quick "ha-ji-ma!" or "Sit down!" usually takes care of the problem. These are the majority of my classes, thankfully. However, the middle school students are a different story. They are just at the age where kids start developing an attitude and it's all I can do to try and control them. One class in particular is an absolute horror. Unfortunately, the more time and energy I spend trying to reign in the bad ones, the less of the actual lesson we get to cover and the students who really do want to learn English (and I think there are some in there) get shorted. And in a half-hour class, there isn't much time to do both effectively. I hate to chalk up a class as a loss, but I had to a few times this week. Anyone out there who has more experience than I do dealing with Korean middle-schoolers and can suggest something is more than welcome to leave a comment. Next week the problem will be lessened as the trouble class has been split in two (due to the middle-schoolers going back to school this week), and I will only have to teach them two days per week, one of which is taken up by one-on-one interviews and "game day," which is actually a lot more of an energy-drain than it sounds. At any rate, I can only assume that it will get better from here on out.

And now for a complete non-sequitur (although it does have to do with the week in review): In the words of Jadakiss, "Why Team USA keep gettin' blown out?"

You Say It's Your Birthday

Yesterday during our lunch break, we celebrated the 30th birthday of "Rachel," one of the Korean teachers at my school. Although I'm sure our small gathering paled in comparison to a "real" Korean birthday, it did grant me a little insight into how birthdays are done here. There really weren't any major differences, except one, and that was that the cake that Rachel's boyfriend bought for her included candles, matches (in a special sleeve with a striking surface: genius!), and poppers. Basically, everything one needs to enjoy a birthday cake. I got me to thinking about how back in the States, one has to buy all of these things separately, and, really, why is that? Would it be so very difficult to include them all in one nice little package? I don't think so, but I do think that it would run counter to our well-entrenched uber-consumer culture, which dictates that one must go searching for all of the separately packaged essentials and pay a premium on each of them.

Also, the cake was made with sweet potatoes, decorated with kiwis and cherry tomatoes, and we ate it with chopsticks. And that part was fun.