Pastimes

I feel as though I've been even more slack than usual in updating this blog, and for that I offer up my apologies. The fact of the matter is that I haven't been doing any memorable or worthy of posting about recently. My elementary school students head back to school this week after their month-long winter break (which is the longest break in the school calendar, unlike our two and half month summer vacation in the States), and so they have been more testy than usual. In other news, Ulsan finally has an honest-to-do rock club, "Purple Haze," which is fantastic because it means that there's finally a place I can go on the weekends to see live music (perhaps there was a place before, but I was definetely unaware of it if it existed). It's actually quite a nice, intimate little place, on the basement level of a building in Mugeodong with a pool table, foosball table, friendly staff, and a small stage where local (mostly student) bands can show off their chops.

Speaking of weekend excursions, there is one activity that I have found myself engaging in virtually every weekend since it has gotten too cold to go hiking and have neglected to address so far: norae bang. In Korean, norae bang literally means "song room," and it is basically the Korean version of karaoke. I was introduced to karaoke by some friends during my sojourn in Prague and, to my slight embarassment, became hooked. I've never actually done karaoke in the States (save for one night at the International House in Chicago, but that barely counts), so I can't compare it to the Korean experience, but I am fairly certain that the Koreans do it quite differently. First of all, rather than getting up in front of a bunch of strangers in a bar, the countless norae bang establishments in Ulsan offer private rooms for small groups of friends. The average rate here is 15,000 won/hour (a little over $15), which is a small pittance when split between eight or so people. Most places have machines that can judge the "accuracy" of an individual's performance, and groups that perform well are rewarded with free extra time. In just about every Ulsan neighborhood, a quick walk down the street will lead one past at least five different places, the majority of which don't close until the last customers decide they've had enough. There is definetely a range of quality among places, some of which are run-down and a bit seedy and others that are state-of-the-art and have "theme rooms," such as "Rock" in Mugeodong, a favorite among Ulsan University students. The most elaborate joint I've seen thus far was in Hondae, in Seoul, a three story building with large plate-glass windows facing the street (allowing passerbys to peek in on the customers) and high-ceilinged rooms with small lofts! Going to the norae bang appears to be a popular activity among Koreans regardless of age as both my youngest students and their parents love to go. Last week, Jessica and I went to one with our Korean colleagues after a staff dinner, which was a welcome surprise. I've also gotten the impression that, on the whole, Koreans take the quality of their own singing more seriously than we waygukins do. They love to sing, and they also love to sing well. Of course, there are also those who love to go just to have fun, like me. One final note, a social measure of just how popular a pastime it is: certain Orion brand snack foods come in "norae bang" specific sizes, enough to accomodate a large group of people.

R.I.P. Ryszard Kapuscinski

I know this bit of news isn't very Korea-related (actually, it isn't at all related to Korea), but yet another of my favorite authors has passed on and I feel like honoring him in my own little way here. Ryszard Kapuscinski was perhaps the most relevant journalist of the twentieth century, spending most of his long career covering some of the most important, yet undereported, events at the end of the most world's most tumultuous century. For years, he was the sole Polish reporter in all of Africa, one of the only journalists who could claim to have an entire continent as his beat. I read "Shadows of the Sun," a collection of stories about his time in Africa, while I was in college and it made me want to learn Polish (I never did though) because the writing was so beautiful in English that I could only imagine what it must be like in his first language. My undergraduate Politics professor regularly assigned "Shah of Shahs," Kapuscinski's account of the 1979 Iranian revolution, as a reading for his "Revolution and Political Violence" course. Unfortunately, I am having some trouble finding a good obituary on-line, so here is a link to the BBC story where I heard the news. Certainly, the era of journalistic curiousity, intergrity, and relevance that Kapuscinski was a part of has, sadly, long since passed, although I hope it will return one day.

Accessorize

Although it sometimes seems to me like the daily life of Korean children is all work and no play as they spend most of their days either in school or at various academies, at least the study accessories they have available to them are a lot fun. I seem to remember that when I was in elementary school there were definetely some "must have" school supplies that were popular; everyone wanted to have the flyest "Trapper-Keeper," for example, and I remember having a few triangular neon pencils, but they all pale in comparison to the items my students bring to class. There seem to be a few companies that have cornered the school accessories market and all of the separate items they produce follow some sort of theme. Most have cutesy cartoon characters and ridiculously sappy slogans written in Konglish. The most sought after pencils are definetely the 1,000 won mechanical pencils, also known as "sharps." I have yet to see anyone with a pencil that has an eraser on the end of it. Usually, students have a separate eraser, some of which are simple, monochromatic, rubber rectangular-solids. However, others are shaped like fast food items and have very distinctive smells. And then there are the countless styles and shapes of stickers that are used to decorate everything (sometimes the stickers are quite funny to the waygukin observer since the sticker companies can't use licensed trademarks and the kids end up with "Dream Donuts" logos and such). Of course, the most important item, and the one that is most semiotically charged (as they are often markers of class status, as well as material representations of extracurricular interests), is the almighty pencil case. Pencil cases are popular all across East Asia, and Korea is no exception (I don't remember ever having one in the States, so I'm not sure they're as big of an item back home). Here are a few of my favorites that I see on a daily basis:














This one belongs to "Ann," a simple cardboard case that opens up into several compartments that pivot outward from the body. It is part of the "Honey Bear" series; the caption reads "Nobody can stop my feeling to you."














Next is "Jess's," a plastic case from the "Sweet Hamu" series, which features a giant hamster. The see-through top flips up to reveal a small white board for writing notes, reminders, or messages to friends. "Jess" has decorated hers with some pieces from one of the avatar-sticker books that are popular among the younger girls.














This one belongs to "Britney" and I think it's cool because it has an abacus, although I don't think she knows how to use it. The abacus may have gone the way of the slide-rule (much to my father's dismay).














"Belle's" case opens to an elaborate study diversion: a miniature baseball game. It is from the "Maple Story" series, based on the ever-so popular computer game.














Finally, "Carla's" case, another from "Sweet Hamu." A few of my students have similar cases; the top flips over and reveals a video game on an LCD screen. This one is my personal nemesis as it is a constant source of distraction from lessons.

I have my own pencil case, which my students love to raid for pencils, pens and erasers (the American "Papermate" ballpoints I brought with me are a big hit since they can't be found in Korean stationery stores). It's nowhere near as elaborate as the ones above, but it serves its function.

Games Pt. 2

Another popular Korean game that never ceases to distract from "real" work in my classroom is gong-gi, a.k.a. salgu. The game is similar to what we call "jacks" in the States, except that there isn't a ball and the "jacks" are colorful octagonal solids made of plastic, not spiky metallic objects. Basically, players start by throwing one of the five pieces into the air and trying to scoop up another piece and catch the airborne piece in the same hand before it falls to the floor. The next round, they try to scoop two pieces and so on. In the final round, the player tries to throw all five pieces and catch them on the back of his or her hand. The pieces themselves have imprints of numbers, Korean letters, Latin letters, and pictures of different sports. None of my students could give me a satisfactory answer as to what significance, if any, these decorations have. They don't seem to change the play of the game in any way. Gong-gi seems to be more popular with the girls, although I've seen some boys play it as well. Here one of my students, "Laura," demonstrates how to play the game:

Back To Busan

This weekend saw me return to the Busan MoMA, this time accompanied by my Australian friend, Melissa, to see a new traveling exhibition of modern Indian art entitled "Hungry God." At this point, I am even more unfamiliar with Indian art than I am with Korean art, so it was a real treat to get some exposure to it. As I've mentioned before, it is sometimes difficult to grasp the significance of works of art that inhabit different signification schemas than the ones the viewer is entwined in (perhaps some of my friends who are more attuned to these schemas could enlighten me?) This became immediately apparent to me as I entered the ground floor of the MoMA and was met by Nataraj Sharma's ode to the Indian independence movement (which turns 60 years old this year): a large rusted bus with a phonograph attached to the roof and pictures of the revolutionary leaders in the windows. Of course, I recognized Gandhi and Nehru in the driver's seats (which in and of itself says something), and I also recognized Subhas Gose, Tagore, Jinnah, and Patel, but the others, I am sad to say, I do not know. Another case of semiotic dysfluency occurred with Reena S. Kallat's "Penumbra," an alumnium bed frame suspended over the floor containing an arrangement of public officer's stamps. The stamps were all either white, green, or saffron-colored, so at least I recognized those as the colors of the Indian flag, but I could not make out what the shape they were arranged in was supposed to be. Upon looking at a political map of India when I returned home, I think it may have been in the shape of the state of Andhra Pradesh, but I can't be sure and I'm not certain what sort of significance that would have for the piece. Besides the cross-culturally confusing (yet beautiful) pieces, there were several other fantastic pieces in the exhibit, far too many to enumerate here so I will just point out my favorites. First, Tushar Joag's "Unicell" project, which took as its inspiration a recent land reclamation battle in Mumbai in which hundreds (perhaps thousands?) of citizens were given eviction notices to make way for the construction of Mumbai's "New Eden," which I think was supposed to be a series of condominium projects. In response, Joag's Unicell team constructed a replica of the iconic Flora Fountain and set about erecting and dismantling it in four (politically and historically significant) locations around Mumbai, in what I imagine was an attempt to show how the brains behind New Eden were treating Mumbai as if it was portable and malleable, but I could be wrong. My other favorites included two video installations, one called "Crossings" by Ranbir Kaleka and the other titled "Mother India" by Nalini Malani. The former involved an artistic process I've never seen before; Kaleka's piece had four screens, each with a video loop of a different actors overlaid on top of another video loop which kept shifting between typical Indian street scenes and more surreal imagery. In addition, Kaleka had painted silhouettes of each of the foreground videos onto the screens. Over the course of the loop, the actors move back and forth from screen to screen so that the painted silhouettes are temporarily emptied. The latter was a feminist indictment of the treatment of Indian women and how women's bodies had been appropriated for the inscription of the revolution. Complete with two quotes from Veena Das (hooray Anthropology!), Malani had erected five screens in a semi-circle, each of which alternated showing images of (among other things) women spinning thread during the days of the revolution, images of the goddess Lakshmi, and images of a young Indian girl in a sari (there was also a point when the Lakshmi images turned into Coca-Cola logos, and I'm not sure why), while the sounds of giggling and screaming women came from the speakers. Finally, I really liked Bharti Kher's pieces in which she had arranged thousands of bindis of different shapes and colors into geometric patterns in some cases and into what vaguely looked like figures in others. For some reason, it made me think of a more abstract, modernized version of some of Klimt's work.

Afterwards, Melissa and I headed down to Haeundae beach to (appropriately enough) an Indian restaurant called "Ganga" for lunch. I had the Paneer Butter Masala, which our one Indian restaurant in Ulsan doesn't offer. It was a nice ending to my latest outing to Busan.

Games Pt. I

Many of my experiences in Korea are viewed through a child's perspective, which is simply a matter of circumstance, really. That being true, I am very aware of what games are popular right now among the elementary school set. One of the most popular, and distracting, forms of entertainment (at least among the boys) is a card game named "Yu-Gi-Oh!" (in Korean "Yu-Hi-Wa). The cards themselves cost 100 won a piece (about 10 cents American) and come in packs of five. The are manufactured by Konami (the same Japanese company that made a whole slew of video games in the 80s and 90s that all had the same cheat code) and distributed by Upper Deck Entertainment (known in the States more for sports trading cards than games). Based on my observations, it seems to be similar in form to a game like "Magic: The Gathering" (if anyone remembers that one), which is no surprise as its creator has said that he wanted to create a game similar to "Magic" but with rules that were less complicated. "Yu-Gi-Oh" was originally a Japanese anime serial created by Kazuki Takahashi first aired in 1998. It was so popular among Japanese and Asian youths that a second series was produced, "Yu-Gi-Oh: Duel Monsters," in 2000 that was exported to over 60 countries. The franchise has spawned a multi-volume manga, two movies, video games, and the card game. Of course, it involves an intricate narrative about a shy Japanese high school student named Yugi Moto who is given an ancient Egyptian relic, the Millenium Puzzle, by his grandfather. After completing the puzzle, he is possessed by the spirit of a 3000-year old pharoah who has forgotten all memories of his past. Yugi Moto and his friends attempt to unlock the secrets to the Nameless Pharoah's history by playing the card game. All that being said, some of my students become so engrossed in the game that there is nothing I can do to win back their concentration. Sometimes, they actually play the game, but usually it seems that they just like trading the cards with their friends or pinch them between their thumbs and middle fingers and fling them across the room, which irks me. Any attempts to confiscate the cards are met with loud, sometimes violents protests. It looks like a lot of fun, but being the teacher and not knowing Korean exempts me from play.

Death Of A (Ramen) King

I read this article this morning and felt compelled to write something about the man whose invention is so popular both here in Korea and at home. Momofuku Ando may not be a household name, but instant ramen noodles are immediately recognizable in many, if not most, corners of the world. When I was very young, I used to have a bowl of "Oodles of Noodles" after cross-country skiing expeditions; for a while, I even thought it was a special wintertime food. In middle school, I remember the Korean and Thai students becoming small-time entrepreneurs as they would sell contraband packages of ramen that their parents had sent them to the other students for vastly inflated prices. Of course, anyone who has been to college in the States has probably had a bowl of ramen at one time or another (during my first-year orientation week we had no less than three "Ramen Fests" in my dorm). We often eat ramen for lunch at work because it is simple and, well, tasty. Although Koreans are quick to remind me that it isn't a very healthy food, they love it too. Some of the ramen over here is much spicier than the American version, which is just fine by me. All of this makes me want to see one of my favorite movies, the Japanese "noodle western" Tampopo, which I urge anyone who loves food to see.

Haeinsa

The new year in Ulsan is off to a good start as I spent a truly amazing day with my director, Mr. Park, and his wife and daughter in Gayasan National Park, about two hours west of Ulsan. Besides being another of Korea's sanctuaries of natural beauty, Gayasan is home to Haeinsa, the most famous Buddhist temple in all of Korea:














Haeinsa is most well-known for the Haeinsa daejang gyeongpan, a collection of over 80,000 wooden blocks that make up the "Tripitaka Koreana," a record of the essential writings and teachings of Buddhism. The project of creating these blocks began in 1237 and was completed in 1251. The blocks were used to print Buddhist teachings for distribution to temples throughout the kingdom and represent one of the most important pieces of Korean history and culture. Koreans also take pride in the magnitude of such a project and view it as an example of the technological innovations of their ancestors in the field of printing. In 1995, the Janggyeong panjeon, which houses the blocks, was named a UNESCO site:














After visiting the main temple, we attempted to hike into the mountains behind it when a snow storm sprang up out of nowhere (apparently, the western half of Korea is much colder in the winter than the east is, where I live). So, finally it feels like winter to me. I never thought I'd be so happy to see snow:

I-Heart-Seoul

My recent trip to Seoul has restored my faith in Korea and in Koreans. Seoul has everything I wish Ulsan did: art, live music, international cuisine, history, intriguing architecture, and a friend from my Chicago days whom I can discuss Frankfurt School aesthetic theory with, Ja Young. For those of you I-House alums that might be reading this, it was great to see Ja Young and she's doing well now. She was kind enough to show me around some of her favorite haunts in Seoul, and she taught me a lot about Korean politics and the social divisions between the north and south of the R.O.K. In short, I couldn't have had a better vacation to the capital city.
(Note: as my bus was pulling out of Ulsan I realized that in the mad dash to pack everything I had forgotten my camera, so this post will not be visually enhanced. However, not having a camera was a great thing as I felt a little less like a tourist).

Here are some of the highlights of the trip (I won't bore you with the mundane details):
Friday: I arrived late at my hostel and met up with Ja Young for a very late dinner in Hapjeong-dong, where I was staying and, coincidentally, where Ja Young lives. We randomly walked into a tuna sashimi place where I ate enough raw tuna to last me through the new year. I also experienced something which is becoming more and more familiar, and that is the almost ridiculous lengths that Koreans go to in order to show deference to foreigners. The sashimi chef kept piling extra pieces tuna on our plate and was eager to explain everything I ever wanted to know about tuna. Honestly, the special attention makes me feel very uncomfortable, especially when I think that the only reason I get this attention is because I'm white and I am morally opposed to exploiting white privilege for personal gain. However, I think non-white foreigners also get this attention, and it's really offensive to refuse anything.

Saturday: I headed up to the palace district to visit some of the numerous art galleries in Seoul. First, the Kumho, which had a small exhibit by some modern Korean artists (paintings, photographs, sculptures and video installations), all nice pieces but nothing remarkable. Right next door at the Hyundai gallery there awaited a surprise I didn't expect to find: an exhibit of Robert Rauschenberg's work, spanning most of his career from the 1970s to the 21st century. I've always liked Rauschenberg but had never seen his pieces in person. It seems that he has become far less chaotic in his mature years, as his collages from the 2000s usually have only three of four images rather than fifty. From the Hyundai, I headed over to the ArtSonje center. There were some contemporary non-Korean artists' works displayed there, but the Korean pieces were much more interesting. Describing art that is entwined in "webs of significance" that the viewer is not intimately associated with is always a difficult thing because one is lacking in semiotic fluency and doesn't always immediately understand the indexicality of certain works. In the end, one is left with a mess of unconsummated references and a vague understanding of the work in question. A perfect example of this was my viewing experience of a sculpture titled "Gimhongsok (Oval Talk)." Basically, it is a large purple egg with an audio loop coming from inside the egg. Apparently, it is supposed to interrogate the "myth of oviparity," something I am unfamiliar with. Later, Ja Young explained to me that many of the myths about the kings and queens of the Three Kingdoms period involve the leader emerging from an egg. Perhaps this has something to do with "Gimhongsok," perhaps not. Next, I headed down to Insa-dong to meet Ja Young for lunch at a samgyetang place tucked away in the maze of alleyways. Insa-dong is quite beautiful, but maybe a little too touristy for my likes. Later, Ja Young suggested that we tour Changdeokgung, the final palace of the Joseon dynasty, which ruled the country at the time of the Japanese occupation in 1910. The palace was fantastically beautiful and I imagine it would be even more so in the summer months. Ja Young had previously studied to be an English-language tour guide, so she was actually able to tell me more about the palace than the official tour guide! After one more stop in Insa-dong for tea, Ja Young went to meet some universtiy friends in Kangnam and I went down to Itaewon for dinner. I was struck by the diversity in Itaewon (Ulsan is about as diverse as Maine is), especially where I had dinner, at a Turkish restaurant called "Salam" near the Seoul Central Masjid, one of the only mosques in the entire country. Unfortunately, the mousakka I had wasn't as good as I'd hoped it would be, and the flatbread tasted a little too yeasty. Finally, I ended my night at a jazz bar called, appropriately, "All That Jazz." There were two groups, the first a foursome that wasn't very good, and the second a five piece group (piano, drums, electric bass, electric guitar, and saxophone) who played an absolutely, heart-rendingly beautiful version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and a lively take on Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely."

Sunday: Sunday found me heading down to Yeouido to indulge myself in my love of skyscrapers by visiting the 63 building, the tallest building in Korea. Back in my Chicago days, one of my favorite activities was going to Sky Lounge at the Hancock building for a cocktail. It was a little too early for cocktails, but the feel was essentially the same as I surveyed all of Seoul with a capuccino. The building itself is unique, a sleek (sexy even) tower of iron and glass that has a slight curvature to its twin facades. Determined not to be a tourist, it seems as if I ended up doing some of the most touristy things one can do in Seoul, and the 63 building was perhaps the most touristy. From there, I visited two of the more upscale Seoul neighborhoods: Apgujeong-dong (Korea's "Beverly Hills") an Myeong-dong (home of Ewha Women's University and a favorite shopping spot). I didn't do any shopping, but I did see some incredibly beautiful buildings in Apgujeong, all of which housed top fashion names like Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Prada, Ferragamo, etc. The two Louis Vuitton locations were especially interesting, the one time I wish I had brought my camera. I also drank the most expensive espresso of my life. As the sun was setting, Ja Young got off work and I went to meet her in Sinchon for dinner, where she went to college as an undergrad. We had some Vietnamese food, my first bowl of pho in almost six years, and then headed out to celebrate the New Year's festivities. Most places in Sinchon were absolutely packed; eventually, her older brother showed up, who was bored and girlfriend-less, which was a good thing because he knows Sinchon very well and led us to some more secluded spots where I can almost guarantee no tourists have ever been. First, we headed to his favorite sake bar where he generously provided us with a $100 bottle of the driest sake that exists. It was delicious, the best sake I've ever had by a longshot. It was there that we watched the Korean equivalent of the ball dropping in Times Square, which is the ringing of the bell in Independence Park, on TV, rather than standing around in the cold to see it live. The night was just beginning, so Ja Young's brother led us around the corner and down into the bowels of Sinchon to an out of the way soju bar. But this was unlike any soju bar I've seen; the walls were filled with old records and the proprietor played requests while cooking up various anju for the customers. Ja Young and her brother educated me in the history of Korean rock (which is surprisingly good music) and we threw in a few Anglo selections as well. There aren't many experiences as surreal as hearing Run DMC's "King of Rock" blasting at top volume early in the morning on New Year's Day hundreds of thousands of miles from Hollis, Queens. Finally, it was on to the obligatory first norae bang experience of the year, and then back to Hapjeong to crash.

Monday: I spent most of Monday taking it easy, going out in Sinchon for lunch and then waiting for Ja Young to finish New Year's dinner with her extended family. After she was free, we walked to Hondae, which immediately became one of my favorite Seoul neighborhoods. It surrounds Hongik University, the top art school in Korea, and the neighborhood reflects the attitude of Korean art students. It is filled with hip restaurants, bars, clubs and record shops. After wandering around in the snow that was just beginning to fall and getting slightly lost, we eventually decided on popping into "Gr8," a relatively new hookah bar (although, I don't think it was real chicha that we were "smoking" as the menu advised the customers that everything was 100% nicotine free, thankfully for me who is one and half years smoke-free). The whole atmosphere was geared toward providing the most relaxing experience possible. We choose a table upstairs, lounging on plush pillows and cushions as we drew clouds of pomegranate "smoke" from our hookah and sipped on cocktails. We talked about everything from Habermasian modernity theory to popular Korean movies of the past few years. It was one of the best evenings I've had since arriving on the peninsula, mostly due to the excellence of the company I found myself in. At last, the charcoal burned out and it was time to leave. I bid Ja Young adieu with plans for her to come visit Ulsan some time this spring. The perfect ending to a perfect vacation.

The next day I made my way back to Ulsan. I wonder what things would be like if I hadn't moved to the southern industrial city and had gone against instinct and chosen Seoul. At least it will always be there and I am sure to return someday.