(Wordable Wanderings)

It’s a rainy July here.   It has kept me from my natural anti-depressant: jogging.  It wasn’t raining yesterday afternoon, but I wasn’t able to  jog then because I was busy.  No, whats the word that also ends with a y and describes me?  Lazy.

The sorts of things that a lot of people in my generation seem to do a lot, and thus I assume they find fullfilling, like drinking and dancing and drinking, don’t cut it for me.   And I’m pretty lucky that at 25 I’ve seen alot of they world.  But it is all starting to look the same.  For fucks sake I’ve seen an H&M in Beijing, a quarter of a mile from the Forbidden city.  C’mon China, are you a xenophobic, communist country or aren’t you?  There’s probably a Gap Kids on the plains of what once was Xanadu.  Where can I go to fullfill my unrelenting need for change?  That is one reason why I am considering the Peace Corps.  (I realize talking about joining the Peace Corp is probably like talking about the plot of that book you’ve had knocking around in your head for years: don’t do it.)

Tonight my co-workers and I went to an Outback (something you’d not catch me dead doing in the states out of a false sense of self-righteousness and taste).  It was delicious, and I ate a lot of rare steak and ribs. 

Tonight, the paranthesis rule (!)

Love

I’ve spent the majority of today watching and adoring Jon Stewart.  I’m in love!  

PS: I think we need to take a break, Christian Bale.

Keyboards, Satelittes, and Principals

My laptop’s keyboard remains fucked, though it’s been scanned for viruses.  Someone suggested that its not a virus, but a hardware problem.  I don’t know of any Apple stores in Seoul, though.  Grumble.  I dislike being unable to write well and work on it, especially now that my interests lie outside of youtube and facebook.  I’m currently starting the behemoth Peace Corps application process.  Not to mention researching every other damned idea I have for my next step. 

Last weekend I went on the teacher’s trip.  We took a fancy bus down to a southern island in Korea.  It was beautiful, but our alcoholic and condescending principal insisted that we tour a children’s museum about space exploration, instead of taking a boat tour of the amazing coastline.  The musum could fit in a toilet stall in the Smithsonian Air and Space museum.  At the end of July Korea will join the ranks of the US, China, Isreal and Japan in having satelite launching capabilities.  A big step, surely, and we certainly were near  the launch site, even if we weren’t learning anything about it.   And, as I kept telling some of my English co-teachers, why did you take me here?  I’m an American, we have NASA.  They thought it was funny.   Theywere equally displeased at being denied the treat of natural beauty.

Our Principal’s douchebagery aside, I did have a good time.  The older, female teachers were universally welcoming, inclusive, attentive, fun, and, even if they had very very limited experience with English, went out of their way to communicate with me. 

This week, it is difficult to put the Principal’s douchebagery aside, because he has been blaming the Korean teachers in the English department for the poor enrollment in the English summer camp they are in charge of, and I am to teach.  Only four middle school students had signed up for the camp, and the minimum number is twelve.  The principal punished the English department by denying us money in our budget for an English department meeting and end of semester dinner, and has in general been insulting and assigning blame to the Korean English teachers.

Korea, and Asia in general, isn’t known for its frankness, but finally my main English co-teacher, Mrs. Lee, said that the reason the enrollment in camp is so small this year is because instead of having a two week camp, we are having a three week camp, and students will not want to spend half of their vacation in school from Monday until Friday.  What a revelation! Of course that is why enrollment was low.  And whose decision was it to make the English summer camp three weeks long?

The douchebag.

Dam.U.vIRUS

ello.i.ahve.a.keyboard.virus.

Iam.displeased.

4elp.me.

Let Me Touch Your Gold, Effeminate God Hands

 

Check out these gold mother fuckin buddhas.  They are big, and gold, and will totally give you enlightenment if your bitch ass would just chill out.  

(Disclaimer: I don’t usually take photos of people’s spiritual places, at least not when they are looking, and never ever with the flash.  Those who take flash photos of delicate art should be given dirty looks and snide remarks.  Then shot at.)

Amanda and I took a cushion a piece and enjoyed the living room / buddhist temple atmosphere.  Sparrows were pecking invisible food off of the carpets and the altars.  One middle-aged  woman was shooing a sparrow away and getting annoyed.  Not. Very. Zen.  Dude.

That Grime is Starting to Look Sublime, Or Maybe it’s the Coffee

The middle school students are taking their mid term exams, so I don’t teach anymore this week. I can spend these three days preparing my lessons for my three week English summer camp. I can. Mostly I fucked off and cleaned my desk.

For the first thirty minutes of work I loaded up on coffee, read a few news articles (Michael Jackson?), and ate some plain yogurt. Then I chatted with Elizabeth online until lunch, which was inspiring and much needed. We vowed to be writers, damn the world. Appreciate our genius! But if you wont, then damn it all, we will. And how. After lunch I watched the Daily Show until they let me off of an hour early. I do appreciate my job, and it isn’t just for the slacking.

I climbed up the mountain behind my school again today, and at the top I went down the road with the canopy of trees that interested me yesterday. Down that road was a really sweet park. Not big, but on top of a mountain, and well cared for, crammed full of benches and picnic areas, potted plants, cityscape and mountain views, and manicured dirt trails leading off from the main trail. The main trail was made of a slightly bouncy, soft material. Good for your legs, not a hard impact. I’m not sure what the material is, but I think it is recycled something-or-others. I felt very fond of Seoul the whole time up there, and fond of the people.

I went to dinner at the nearest Indian restaurant, which is luckily pretty near. Living by one of the biggest universities in Seoul has its advantages, like a little diversity. Diverse cuisine. I had dinner with myself and Jane Austen, and then I set myself up in a coffee shop to study French. But before I could start, I was approached by a woman who wanted to pay me to rewrite and edit a speech right then. I hesitated, and took a long time to invite her to sit down. I told her that, according to my visa, I’m not allowed to do any other paid work. She dismissed the idea, just a little impatiently. She was on a short timeline, and her normal native English speaker was out of town. It took an hour and some change to edit this very very short speech. It was a speech that was going to be given during this meeting of Asian lawyers by the president of the Korean Bar association. She paid me 50,000 won to do it. I was confident in it until she told me it was going to be printed as well as read. Are my use of commas going to shame the largest organization of Korean lawyers in front of the largest organization of Asian lawyers? What power!

She was beside me the entire time, directing me on what she wanted, and giving me context for what was being said within the speech. Then we discussed meeting two or three times a week for English lessons. I struck a decent deal (in her favor) for following lessons. I agreed, and I was a bit surprised. I felt like I got engaged on the first date. But it should be interesting, I may get to see tangible results from my instructions, and it is damn decent money even if it is lighter on her pocketbook than the market price. It also fits into my schedule of scarcely socializing and pursuing ideas for what to do in a year.

These days I’m my own best friend. Being ravenous to read and research and learn helps a lot. A few months ago, when I informally quit taking taekwondo classes, I also gave up my social life. My social life has disappeared, I’ve seemed to have fallen off the radar with my friend here, and I’ve just noticed in the past couple of weeks.

I’m missing friends from back home. I’m also missing a friend whom I haven’t talked to in a handful of years, and though he could be fickle and cold, I haven’t met anyone to equal to him, anyone who was so creative and inspiring.

Today I hiked for an hour and a half and I ate raw vegetables. One step closer to sustainable contentment.

I know what will soften my existential angst: Jogging!

I hiked up the mountain behind my school this afternoon.  The sky has been grey and dirty all day, but beautiful anyway.  The hike up the mountain was on a dirt and rock path through thick green trees and bushes.  It was humid, and I could smell the plants.  The green smell reminds me first of the Appalachain mountains in North Carolina, second of my piedmont home, and third of Williamsburg, Virginia.  On top of the mountain there was a whole lot of dramatic gray sky and a whole lot of green.  I loved being above the city.  I felt a little eager, and a little expectant.  My head and the back of my shirt were drenched in sweat.  I jogged down the mountain, and took a turn through Korea University’s campus.  

Tomorrow I will go up the little green mountain again and jog down a road I haven’t jogged down before.   I can’t resist going down a road when there is a canopy of trees.   I’ll bring some cash for a bus home if I end up too far away.  

I need to wash my socks.

Faucet Angst

I went to bed really early, hoping to get up early and have time before work to jog and write.  Last night I jogged for the first time since early spring.  This afternoon I could feel it in my legs.  It felt good.  I got up for a piss, from my early bed time, and I couldn’t wash my hands.  The faucet in my bathroom didn’t have running water.  Then I turned on the faucet in the kitchen sink, and it didn’t have running water either.  Then I laid back down and thought how sweaty I was from sleeping without the air conditioning on, and how I’d be even sweatier after a jog.   I’d look like a greasy bum at work tomorrow, and I’d have to inform my co-teacher / Korean babysitter that my water had been turned off.  Had I ever received a water bill?  I didn’t think so, but then again, if the bill was in Korean, how would I know?  The landlord doesn’t speak English.  I thought I could go for a jog and stuff a few bills down my shirt and afterwards by a gallon of water at a convenience store so I could at least wash the more fragrant body parts.  I couldn’t get back to sleep until several hours later.  The water had been turned back on before midnight.

The Secret to Happiness

Amanda and I went to the shopping mecca Myeongdong and dropped some cash.  Baller.  

 

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Amanda waiting for coffee

 

Myeongdong is crowded and scary, even from the safety of this overpriced chain coffee shop.  

Hey, I found a handful  of toothpicks in my purse.  How did those get there?  And a handful of Korean cash, but Amanda gave that to me.   I threw the toothpicks away.

 

 

It is Sunday evening, and I’m feeling antsy.  I am pretty sure the secret to happiness involves regular exercise, regular sex, and eating raw vegetables.  

Oh Those Mild Friday Nights, Oh Those Convalescing Saturdays.

On Friday night Amanda and I got dolled up and went to a burlesque show at a bar called Berlin, all of which sounds cooler than it actually was.  Maybe I had my expectations a bit high, maybe I thought there’d be a stage.  The drinks were reasonably priced and strong, even if the bartenders can’t make them under 5 minutes.  It was standing room only.  The company was good though, and we stood in front of a bank of open doors which looked over some bushes, a busy intersection, and had a peek-a-boo view of the Dongdaeumun, Heyhwa downtown (Seoul doesn’t have one downtown, but several).  There were lots of trees, and we got a great breeze from the air conditioning and fromt nature.  My drink got me tipsy quickly, and I got a little high just talking about my plans for the future.    After the show we went to a Moroccan bar hole-in-the-wall, sat, smoked a hookah, ate, and made friends with some people.  There was a cute Welsh guy who had a cute English girlfriend.  They were fighting, and he said meeting me was refreshing, and you can tell he’s a flirt.   Ah well.  Then all of us go to another bar I’ve never been to before.  It was big and loud, and playing a lot of Michael Jackson.  Amanda flirted with the  young, cute Moroccan guy, and I somehow was stuck with the old owner.  He looked like a miniature Robin Williams.  He sat too close to me and tried to take up as much space as possible, which also meant making me take up less space, which is a pretty dick move considering I was three times his size.  It was loud and mildly shitty, and also really late, so I left Amanda to her dubious quarry.  I took a taxi back to my apartment and the taxi driver, predictably, tried to take me to the south side of the Han river though the place I asked to be taken was on the north side.  This happens alot when I take a taxi early in the morning after drinking.  I made myself two bacon sandwiches then fell asleep after 5 a.m.   I woke up sweaty and nude, feeling like my brains had been replaced with firey-hot rocks.  To distract myself, I picked up the nearest reading, “Guide to Living and Teaching in Seoul.”  It makes pretty strong threats against teachers who act in a disrespectful manner, which I found vague, or who make any racist slurs, or treat students or staff in an abusive manner.  That seemed pretty rich, coming from such a racist society.  I wish they’d give my students that strong of an edict, and some of the older male teachers.  The other day one of my male students told me to “Speak Korean in Korea”.  They enjoy trying to raise my hackles by swearing in English, or calling me sexy or ugly.  Damn boys.   Then I read that Korean kindergartens, to appeal to the parent’s high academic expectations, have pompous, impressive graduations, complete with diplomas, academic caps and gowns.   Then I remembered I drank a strong LIT, a dirty martini, a glass of white wine and four beers.  I thought it was pretty impressive I hadn’t been sick, then I promptly felt nauseous and got sick.  I made pasta, I fell asleep again.  I woke up at 4 pm, took a shower, didn’t put on any makeup, and got a steak dinner and saw the only English movie playing at my local theater.