Psychedelic Flower Hippie Love Camp

This weekend I attended a counter-cultural event held in the woods on a mountain in the middle of nowhere. Some friends had heard about a '60s styled outdoor concert and given my interest in most things '60s styled, I was immediately intrigued. With backpack packed I boarded a subway Saturday afternoon with my companions and set off.

After an hour of weighing the sub, we arrived at a major terminal where more friends joined up before boarding a "nowhere-bound" bus. Two hours and some wine later, nowhere turned out to be a small town, which we soon discovered was the wrong small town. As luck would have it, a nun and a priest offered to give all seven of us a ride in their church van to the designated hippie rendezvous point. I am not making any of this up.

About an hour later, with growing suspicion that this "nun and priest" act was really a way for them to get us to a quiet place and chop us up, we arrived at the Love Camp. It was now about 10pm and the party was on. A band of old bearded Korean dudes was rocking the hell out of some filthy acid-rock and wound their set down with CCR's Proud Mary. Something I noticed was an absence of a certain aroma which supposedly wafts around during these outdoorsy music concert things. Korea is strict, dude.

The crowd was fascinating. Maybe 150 people, mostly in their 20s and 30s, although there was a strong contingent of those who lived through whatever passed for the '60s counter culture in Korea. Maybe 30 foreigners too, although most of them were Euros or freakish pseudo-English speakers from places like "New Zealand" or "Oz". A Polish girl sat by me at one point and I said to her "So you're Polish... that's weird" and she says "It's very normal for me". This was a) the only possible response to my remark and b) freakin' genius. If you ever meet a crazy-dancing blond polish girl, ask her for enlightenment.

As the night went on things got weirder, Polish or otherwise. A mystical dance performance by odd-sods in white makeup was accompanied by hand drums, guitar, and shrieking woman. I really enjoyed several young Korean bands playing a frenzied style of proggy math-rock. The music was closed out by an experimental American guy with a keyboard and drum kit (his set reminded me of the music from Chrono Trigger) and then a more traditional techno music DJ. Then the rain started and it really became a hippie fest.

Unwilling to sleep in the mud, I decided to keep drinking and stay up all night. One of my companions, apropos of nothing but his manic drunkenness, drop-kicked a watermelon, raining pink and green bits on innocent by-standers. At another point, I used my plush black bat (Stump, RIP) to fly onto the stage and kidnap a performer's stuffed rabbit. Various audience members asked me about this for the rest of the night and it was fun to hear their mixed interpretations of the act. Alas, Stump was left on one of the buses we took back home the next day.

New Schedule and I am Kidnapped

Last weekend I went to the karaoke place with a group of co-workers. We were apparently celebrating someone's birthday, but it gradually degraded into a celebration of ridiculous behavior and Neil Diamond. There were a few stops along the way, naturally. Dinner involved a big pot of chicken and rice cakes in a red sauce, and there were the inevitable drinking stops. At the karaoke place however, something out of the ordinary happened.

As I returned from the bathroom toward my group's karaoke room, I stumbled over a drunken Korean man. He was very excited to have been stumbled over and we spent about ten minutes saying the same things to one another:

Him: "Where are you from?"

Me: "USA!"

Him: "USA!"

Me: "Where I you from?"

Him: "KOREA!"

Rinse, repeat.

We decided we liked each other, so he took me back to his group's karaoke room. Unlike in the States where most karaoke bars are one big hall where you have to wait your turn while rednecks sing "Shout at the Devil" again and again, the "noraebang" of Korea gives everybody their own zone. The Korean man's room was full of Korean people. Our earlier conversation represents more English than the rest of group combined was capable of. He dragged me into the room with a flourish that said "Lookie here gang, I got me one of them Americans! Now dance boy!" And dance I did...

To some people, being kidnapped by drunk Koreans would seem frightening. I was thrilled by the cross-cultural learning this experience provided. For example, there is a K-Pop song called "4 Minute Girl" with a chorus of English words. Two of them. "Hot issue, Hot issue, Hot issue" and then the title "4 Minute Girl!" Then I sang Sweet Caroline for the party for the second time that night.

Back on Planet Sober, Knox School is starting a new semester next week. I have gotten a new schedule with some exciting additions. I still have the same youngsters in the morning and the same first graders in the early afternoon, but now I also get to teach reading and writing to advanced third and fourth graders every afternoon. This is great because, although I'll be grading tons of writing portfolios, reading and writing are lots of fun to teach. I am thinking about bringing in a few supplemental selections. Kafka's The Penal Colony or The Dungeons and Dragons 4th edition players handbook, for example.

Two things happen at school

The other day, one of my first graders says to me "Teacher, you are funny and dark." I am not making this up.

So I wanted to write an entry about Sauna Park and the amazing "Precious Stone Kiln" where you sweat your face off encased in quartz, but such material ephemera seems insignificant compared to my yesterday...

...it was OPEN CLASS DAY! And I was expected to teach math to kindergartners in front of their parents. Isn't that a classic Jungian nightmare archetype? Like showing up to your first day of high school naked? Having to teach math to Korean children in front of their mothers?

It ended up going extremely well. I made a game out of drawing letters from a bag and determining the resulting probability of the next draw yielding a consonant versus a vowel. These kindergartners can reduce fractions, by the way. I am not making this up.

Something else happened a couple days ago. During a class, one of my students began behaving strangely, losing control of their arms and slurring words more than usual. They dropped to their knees and I caught one arm and the head and lowered the child slowly onto the ground. Straight up seizure. I told the other kids to go tell the Korean Teachers to get medical help while I lay on the ground next to my seizing student, holding a clenching hand and supporting a head, which was in danger of smacking into the bookshelf.

The kid is okay. I was pretty shaken up. Real life.

This weekend I was planning on going to hike some east coast trails leading up to ancient Buddhist monuments. Given the knee situation, instead I think I'll sit in the park and play guitar. I'm working on some Korean pop songs...

Ace in the Hole, Shot in the Ass

Here I am with my advanced kindergarten class.

Today I went to the doctor's office because my knee was bothering me. Apparently I'd been pole dancing (or something) and twisted it while under the influence of alcohol. The doctor didn't have a lot of conversational English, but I guess he'd learned from English textbooks because he had the technical language down. So yeah, some kind of strained ligament in my right knee part. There I was, gingerly favoring my good leg, and then one of the nurses tugs down my pants and gives me an anti-inflammatory injection in the left buttock. My left leg begins tightening. I can't put weight on my right. I am trapped, leaning against an examination table, unable to stand on either of my legs, unable to describe my situation to the four nurses it apparently takes to administer a simple shot. Not my proudest moment, but within a few moments I was gracefully hobbling to the physical therapy room. Heat, electric impulses, and a laser pointer helped significantly. I am on the mend, for sure.

Walker Hill Casino on Saturday was a brilliant time. Although I ultimately lost the money I brought to play with, I won the Texas Hold'em tournament, earning me a free seat at the $10,000 tournament at the end of the month. Game highlights included four of a kind Kings and a royal flush with pocket Aces. Damn that was cool. So now I have an excuse to go back and talk to the drink girls (Little Bo Peep costumes had been replaced by French Maid uniforms) using my kindergarten Korean. Speaking of speaking, I've noticed that my English is already being affected by spending my days with ESL students. I am make a sentence forming very weird and when I make a drink I go TALK but is it not the same it is with a DIFFERENCE! I'll try and upload an audio recording, if that's even possible, to help illustrate the way my seven year olds talk.

So, winning me, wounded knee. Stay tuned for more hobbling around Anyang and a detailed report on my Sunday at Sauna World, the more glamorous place I've ever been naked.

I am a millionaire!

Payday has come and I am flush with cash. I mean sure, it takes 1200 some Korean won to buy a yankee dollar, but still, it feels like high rolling. Speaking of which, I've got a date with about half my teacher friends to go back to Walker Hill casino this weekend. Teacher Matt needs a new pair of shoes, but none here fit.

Last weekend I went to get my hair cut and this was a terrific experience in cross-cultural wackiness. Being a stylist here is quite the lofty job and the service my buddy and I got was outstanding. With the shampooing and the cutting and the styling and the conditioning and the tingling scalp business and the head massage. And the assistant who stood by watching, occasionally brushing away stray hairs from my brow. All they needed were Little Bo Peep outfits with white fishnets. Speaking of which, I'm going back to Walker Hill casino this weekend.

Today was our monthly kindergarden birthday party during which the whole grade gets together for some songs and cake. Then we break off for fun time with our homeroom. I brought my guitar and incited a riot. It was like I was Jim Morrison, refusing to play. Except I am me, and I was playing. These seven year olds had clearly never been in the presence of someone playing guitar and singing and they went ballistic. While entirely unfamiliar with my musical choices, they understand moshing on a very primal level. The highlight was singing 12-bar blues about the subjects I know the kids have the blues about, like homework and Megatron. Speaking of homework, I am going to make sure I don't have any to grade this weekend, because I am going back to Walker Hill Casino.

With my paycheque, there are a few purchases I'm ready to make. I want a bike, to make easier my Anyang explorations. I want a cellphone so I don't have to walk over to friends' apartments just to learn they are out. I want a lamp because the flourescent lights in my apartment are like having a hangover in Heaven. Seems almost redundant. Also, with a small, tiny, carefully budgeted portion of my paycheque, I believe I may return to Walker Hill casino. Wish me luck.

A Real American Hero

Koreans are really into cute things. Childlike imagery of puppies and sailboats and whatnot is everywhere. At the Science Museum (yes, I finally made it back!) there is evidence that Korean scientists have had a breakthrough in cute technology. They have crossed flowers with rainbows.

This week began with upset stomach and ended with brain hurt. The stomach made sense; anybody who spends a few weeks in another country eating unfamiliar food has a good chance of finding themselves checking the old porcelain seismograph. The brain was my fault, as I willingly attended a film screening of G.I. Joe. The movie felt like Novocain. As in, by the end I couldn't feel. I'm embarrassed that the nice people in Korea judge my culture by things like G.I. Joe. Then again, I'm giving them a chance to judge our culture by my karaoke attempts, and those are also pretty numbing.

I found myself in an tricky spot during my TOEFL intensive class this week. We've started using a nice CNN book and CD to extend the listening and vocabulary lessons, but during one story, the word sexy came up. Class of eight 13 year old boys.

Class: "Teacher, what is sexy?"

Me: "Well, it's an adjective that means someone or something has sex appeal."

Class: "Teacher, what is appeal?"

(See where this is going?)

Me: "Appeal is like attraction. Anything with a desirable quality can have appeal. For example, I ordered the beef today for lunch because it had an appealing aroma."

Class: "Teacher, what is sex?"

Me: "Sex is a synonym for gender. For example, a father's sex is male. A mother's sex is female."

Then one brilliant kid goes: "So sexy means being desirable to the other sex than you?"

Me: "Exactly!"

This worked out really well. I managed to provide the guys with a functional definition of "sexy" that didn't involve me saying things that would leave them giggling or crying. Interesting corollary to this story is that later that night I went dancing and heard the word again from a group of Korean girls who didn't look too much older than my class. They apparently also had a functional definition.

Making Friends, Making Thoughts

This post is dedicated to the things I am learning from Koreans who I am making friends with.

Regular Customers get pork fat. I have several meals a week at a Korean restaurant near my apartment. Tonight, my dish, a kimchi stew, had in it nice thick chunks of pork fat in addition to the usual beef and tofu. I win.

Halle Berry is hot everywhere. A Korean guy said to me "I would sell my father's house if Halle Berry wanted me to." This also suggests something about Korean men and their fathers' houses.

Koreans are not good at pool. Despite their professional looking grips on the cue and confident strides around the table, it seems that the locals are incapable of beating me, a terrible pool player. I win again.

Holding hands is ok, as long as you're buying drinks. There is a bar I've been to a few times where the bartender, a pleasant girl, holds my hand while I drink. I tried to say something smooth when I was leaving and she pretended she didn't understand me anymore.

T-Shirts do not have to make any goddamn sense. Refer to previous posts. Or consider this recent gem: A white t-shirt that read "Madonna Kylie Bjork Beyonce Fergie" Now, I suppose that yes, these women all perform music in the pop/rock idiom but Jesus, grouping Bjork with these others is like listing Stephanie Moyer, JK Rowling, Beverly Cleary, and Cormac McCarthy. Remember the Sesame Street bit? "One of these things is not like the others, one of these things is not quite the same..."

Korean women do not like Korean men. Ok, given how many Korean couples I see walking around, this is maybe not entirely true, but it was stated exactly like this to me by a couple of Korean dudes. Later, another guy said to me "Well, not exactly, it's just that Korean women like Korean guys for marrying. Only."

You don't have to have to understand the film (or have read the book) No Country for Old Men to think it is awesome. Refer to the picture above, taken inside a "clubby bar" called Slang.

This wisdom comes from your cross-culture sociologist, me. I win.