Our Triumphant Return (you did notice we were gone, right?)

I realize that everyone's just frantic to know where we've been, but don't worry! North Korea hasn't invaded yet, and Linus and I already killed the half-dozen zombies staggering around our neighborhood.

Actually, Linus and I, along with The Indispensable Kate, have embarked upon an exciting project: the complete reformation of our small hogwan. We have the technology. We can make it better. Faster. Stronger.

Previously, the school's students rotated between one Korean teacher and one waygookin teacher. I had three classes that I saw on a daily basis, and the rest studied with me every other day. But now, we're moving to a four-day rotation. That means I'll see most of my classes once a week, and the rest every other day. Stay with me - it's not as stupid as it sounds. Before this schedule change, all of the teachers were trying to teach a little of everything - grammar, writing, speaking, listening, vocabulary, etc. But now, each teacher is specializing in one subject. I teach Writing, Linus teaches Speech, and the two Korean teachers are in charge of Grammar and Reading. This way, we make sure all areas of English education are covered in depth. We're also coordinating all of our classes so that we're hitting on the same themes in different ways, instituting a huge end-of-the-month test, cracking down on homework, testing the students on twenty new vocabulary words each day, and starting a pen pal program with my old elementary school back in Fort Collins, Colorado. All of this fun starts after Chuseok -

Oh, what is Chuseok, you ask? Well, that really depends on who you ask. Some of my students will tell you that that Chuseok is a harvest festival during which one gathers with the family, visits the ancestors' tombs, bows to the grandparents, receives money from said grandparents, and plays with one's cousins. For others, Chuseok can be summarized in one word: PC bang. That means the "PC room," which is like an Internet cafe but darker, smokier, and for gamers only. Though when our students have time to game I don't know. Clearly, they require more homework.

But I can tell you what everyone is doing for Chuseok: eating. This is songpyeon, a rice cake dish that's a staple of Chuseok.

I've recently laid off the rice cakes, difficult though that is to believe. My loyalties have switched to dakgalbi (chicken, kimchi, rice cakes, chili AWESOMENESS) and shabu-shabu. Shabu-shabu is like a three course fondue meal that costs about ten dollars a person, and should be fed to me at least once a week. For health. Yours.


We also took pictures of my new necklace at this shabu restaurant. This was an incredible lucky find in Cheonbukdae, the university district. I was attracted to the skull on the front...


...but what sold this necklace was what it says on the back - which is, unfortunately, NSFW and also NSF for the kids reading this blog. Here's the link.

So, that's what we've been up to! Slaving away at our totally meaningful and fulfilling jobs, paying almost nothing to eat amazing food, and not playing with the dog enough to satisfy her.

I'm being summoned for walkies. However, regular posting will at last resume!

Weekend in Busan

WARNING: Link to video of crabs possibly doing something NSFW below.

Since Rebecca and I like to pretend that we are dutiful little members of the clerisy, we spent the bulk of our one-week summer vacation locked in our cell working on our theses.  Neither hers - an examination of science fiction through the lens of 18th Century sentimentalism - nor mine - a discussion of rare instances of legally exempted felonies - are exactly driving us to write night and day.  I fact, I am so tired of my topic that I had to bribe myself with the promise of retail therapy in another city just to drag my fingers to the keys.  We agreed to spend the weekdays in Jeonju writing and editing, then give ourselves an out-of-town adventure on the weekend before returning to work.

Our original plan was to hit Itaewon, the famous shopping district of Seoul. Unfortunately, the day before our planed departure, Seoul was hit with over 17 inches of rain (440 mm) in two days, and looked like this:

With over 40 dead, and billions of ₩on in damages, we thought it best to head elsewhere. Our friend in Seoul, Eunhyoung, who had offered to act as our tour guide while we were there, agreed to reschedule with us.

Then began the search for a new destination. We decided that since it has been quite hot and humid, a trip to the beach was in order - but which beach? Living on a peninsula means there are plenty to choose from, and the entire country is just slightly larger than the state of Indiana, so everywhere is within a half-day bus ride.

Not knowing that it was the first weekend of a major beach holiday in Korea, we opted for the booked solid city of Busan. Busan's Haeundae beach is quite famous, and the area around it feels a bit like a combination of Las Vegas and Santa Monica. We worked on the web for a couple hours to find a hotel and then buy bus tickets for an early Saturday departure.

After a false start caused by dogsitting arrangements that fell through, we finally got on the bus around 12:50. We slept for most of the bus ride, then I fell asleep again during the ₩20,000 cab ride to the hotel. After a quick shower and change of clothes, we headed out into the city armed only with a subway map.

We did so much in the next 24 hours that I can't really keep it straight in my head. There was the underground markets, dinner, fancy fountain with dancing water in Lotte Departent Store, several subway rides, and a quick trip to the foreigner district where they sell clothes in the freakishly large (by Korean standards) sizes I require. This area used to be known as "Texas Street" back when there were tons of GIs in Busan (it is also where one will encounter Russian prostitutes vying with Thai, Filipino, and local girls for business). After that, we took off our shoes and walked on the beach, strolled through the live seafood market, got lost in a construction zone, and eventually found an amazing little restaurant facing the water with cheap desserts and expensive drinks that was still hopping around 1:00am. I figure we walked about 5 or 6 miles that night.

The next day we headed back to the beach in the daylight. Koreans do the whole beach thing quite a bit differently. As you will see in the photo dump below, they carry their irrational fear of the sun right down to the shoreline. I spent my teen years in a beach community, and I have never seen 1) so many umbrellas, and 2) so many fully clothed people on a beach in summer.

We went to the Busan Aquarium, which was quite nice, and blessedly air conditioned. Here is where I acidentally videoed large crabs fighting... or possibly engaged in the act of making more crabs... I'm just not much of an authority on crabs (See video here. I am including this link mostly because the audio gives a pretty accurate portrayal of our relationship and the kind of conversations we have on a daily basis).

For our final act in Busan, we opted for the ultimate in terrible tourist behavior - we ate at TGI Fridays. We actually like to eat at Western chain restaurants to see how they stack up to their counterparts back home. As usual, the Korean version was an amalgam of East and West that improved on the original. Yes, they had the usual TGI Friday's drink specials and fattening dishes, but they were all slightly tweaked to be more Asian in flavor, and served by adorable girls in tiny skirts, knee-socks, and cat, mouse, or bunny ears. Much more entertaining than your ordinary happy hour basket of wings.

I attempted to make some sense of these pictures, and arrange them artfully within the text of the post, but Blogger was bent on frustrating my layout. Instead, you are getting a raw dump, straight from the iPhone. Enjoy!

 

8.1.11 Hurray for Hats!

I couldn't resist bringing out this number for Victorian Kitty's one-day hat theme. I bought it from a vendor at my university, removed some of the foofaraw (yes, there was originally more fanciness), and added the purple ribbon and the needles. Because you never know when something or someone is going to need sewing.

I didn't wear the little hat today, but I did wear this. I bought the pocket watch and the pearls from a street vendor here in Jeonju, then removed the works and substituted this cicada I found while walking one night. Don't worry, it was already dead. I'm not that mean. The kids love this necklace. And by "love," I mean "are totally squicked by."

(Thanks to Linus for all the lovely photographs and nifty filtering. Every girl should be lucky enough to live with a photo nerd.)

7.23.2011 Rapunzel, Rapunzel

(A rare shot - wearing neither black nor lace in order to go hiking.)

So I'm in the process of growing out my hair. And because I don't want to wait for layers to catch up, I'm basically growing it out at all one length. That's right - no "freshening my layers," no "slight changes in style." I'm not even planning on getting it trimmed until at least my birthday (January).

Those of you who know me well will understand how completely torturous I'm finding this process. For those of you who don't: it's very torturous. No, seriously, I am addicted to haircuts. I just love that freshly mowed feeling. After I decided to ditch the pixie four years ago, I have been "growing my hair out," which really just means that I dialed my monthly haircuts back to every six weeks.
It's even worse in Korea. Everyone's hair here is immaculate - even the little boys I work with get their hair dyed and permed - because the prices of those services is so low. Linus and I pay 10,000 won (less than 10 dollars) to have our hair done by our neighborhood hairdresser, and according to the indispensable Kate that is, and I quote, "too much." 10 dollars. Too much for a haircut. Is this what culture shock feels like?

But this time I really mean it! I promise! I am growing my hair out, and no ridiculously cheap haircuts or awkward phase or humidity-induced poof on Earth can stop me. With Loepsie of Youtube fame and the lovely ladies of The Long Hair Community at my back, I believe that I can finally kick the scissor habit.

Only problem is, I have no idea what to do with my new length. I'm still loving braids, but I'd like some more options. Especially options that don't require curling irons (I'm scaaaaaared) and that don't involve spending hours slaving over a hot hairdo, because I think if I spend any more time in the morning obsessing over my hair, Linus is going to snap and shave me in my sleep.

Any ideas? Then fire away, Internets.

Like this. But with brown hair instead of red, and my face instead of Lily Cole's.
So not like this at all.

7.17.2011 Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Dog?

As far as cultural differences go, the ones between Koreans and Americans are pretty mild. Already I've absorbed many of the cultural mores of my new home. I no longer blink at almost-showing-panty-length skirts in the workplace, while visible cleavage startles me. The American tradition of three months of summer vacation seems like a monumental waste of everyone's time. Kimchi goes with everything, the best dishes are bright red with chili paste, and even lollipops taste too sweet to me now. But there's one thing I just still don't see eye-to-eye with Koreans about: dogs. And I'm not talking about in the soup.

"I just want to be your fwiend..."

I don't come from what you would call "animal people." We always had a dog when I was a child, but only one at a time. My sister and I kept a few of the pets traditionally given to children, usually hamsters. This is in strong contrast with Linus's attitude towards pets, which has traditionally been the more and varied, the better - including dogs, cats, ferrets, multiple parrots, lizards, snakes, tarantulas, and pot-bellied pigs. So it's understandable that Linus doesn't get why a lot of Koreans are afraid of dogs. But I have to admit, I'm a little confused myself.

It's not like there aren't dogs in Korea. There are tons! There are even a number of quite large dogs - Huskies are pretty popular (though I don't know why, considering the climate). And while we've seen a few strays, nearly all the dogs we've met have owners and are well-cared-for. Some very popular reality shows center almost entirely on animal stories, particularly dogs.

"... or do I?"

Nevertheless, every time we go for a walk, many of the people we meet react with fear to our ten-pound, tail-wagging Jack Russell. They skirt her on the sidewalk and clutch their boyfriends' arms, despite us keeping Friday on a very short leash. When they do approach her, they shriek when she tries to sniff the hand they're using to pet her. By far the saddest cases are the children. Multiple times in a single walk I held Friday as still as I could while mothers encouraged their three-year-olds to pet the puppy, only to have the children scream every time she moved her head and refuse to come within touching distance. I don't think that ALL of these children - or their adult counterparts, for that matter - can have had previous bad experiences with dogs. I'll be the first to admit, Friday can be a bit of a butt-head sometimes, but you won't meet a friendlier, happier dog with strangers. So what's with all the fear?

My totally uneducated stab-in-the-dark answer is this: it's about familiarity. Most American children are taught, from an early age, how to approach dogs and handle them safely. Most urban Korean children are not. Although there are a lot of dogs visible in Korea, most families still don't own one. The dogs that people see regularly fall into two categories: small lapdogs that, as far as I can tell, are usually very poorly trained, and large dogs that are kept strictly outdoors and never mingle much with the family. If your only encounters with dogs are with big barking ones in people's yards and tiny, crazy, probably nippy little five-pounders, being approached by an uproariously happy and rather large (by Korean standards) terrier can be kind of scary.

So it's not that I don't understand, but I do wish it was different. I firmly believe that animals in the household are an essential ingredient to a happy and healthy life, and I admit to being ethnocentric enough to stand by that idea. Now I just need to figure out how to smuggle Friday into my classroom...

The Hunger

When we decided to move to Korea I promised myself that I would endeavour to enjoy the local flavor. In Jeonju this means temples, mountains, amazing produce, fantastic food, beautiful paper products, and the coolest cell phones available.

Both LG and Samsung are Korean companies, and they are so powerful on their home turf that the world's largest cellphone manufacturer, Nokia, has stopped even trying to sell their phones here. Getting in on some of that gadgety goodness was high on my list of things to do once we got here.

Although we got a phone almost immediately after arriving here, it was an older flip-phone with an awkward texting interface and a mediocre camera. I hungered for a smartphone, and nothing else would do.

I tried to tell myself that I was being silly and overly acquisitive - I am not exactly a corporate jetsetter in need of a crackberry to manage my portfolio. I knew I would only use a smartphone to waste time on Facebook and to play "Angry Birds" but I could not reason myself out of the lust. My situation was not aided by the fact that there is literally a cell phone store on every block. In our eight-tenths of a mile walk to work, we pass no less than 3 cellphone stores, and that is in no way an exceptional concentration - it's pretty representative of every major street in Jeonju. Many are far more saturated. There is one street in the university district where Becky and I counted 10 cell phone stores in a single block, and that was all on one side of the street - there were several more on the other side. I honestly don't know how they all stay open. With that kind of pressure, how long could I be expected to hold out?

Even Becky supported this particular obsession of mine, but I think it was largely so that I have a hobby that is as costly as her "shopping problem." I began to rationalize...

Rationalization #1 This phone will help me identify with my students. Most of my older students have smartphones of some kind, and they are on them constantly. Whenever they have any free time on campus they all whip out their phones and begin texting, chatting, playing games, or watching TV. Talking about the apps they like is a great way to build rapport. So you see, it's actually good for my job...

Rationalization #2 This phone will make me more productive. I can check email and Facebook on the fly, so that when I get home to my actual computer I can work on other things like this blog and my thesis. So, you can see how it will help me get more done...

Rationalization #3 This phone will help me learn Korean. I can downloaded several free apps that teach Korean vocabulary, verb conjugations, Hangul handwriting, and sentence structure. When I have a problem with the pronunciation of a word I can listen to recordings of native speakers to get it just right. So it will help me fit in here...

There were several others, even more tenuous and contrived than these, but eventually I allowed myself to give in to my lust. Early last week I asked out handler, the indispensable Kate, to help me get a smartphone (everyone should have a Kate, by the way. She is simply the best.).

Behold. The iPhone 4, in classic black. This picture is the exact model I have, but mine has a nice blood red case on it now. My hunger is sated, and my gods is it good!

Although I am a Mac user, I have never had an iPhone until now. I wanted one, but when they first came out I was relegated to a backwater which lacked AT&T service. Now, not only do I have one, I also have an unlimited data plan - for less than I was paying in the US for just a simple shared calling plan with unlimited texting. (The cost of cell service in the U.S. is just ridiculous when I see how cheap it is here. Makes me really want to go throw stuff at a Verizon building.)

I won't bore you with the techy details, but this device has simultaneouly unemployed my still camera, my video camera, my Nike Sportband, and my trusty iPod touch, not to mention reducing my time on my laptop significantly as well. It has also removed my desire for an ebook reader and my nagging want for a GPS watch, and even obviated my 25 year habit of carrying a compass in my bag. I've had it a week and already it's like oxygen to me - I literally panic when it's not in my pocket or within arm's reach. It's my Swiss Army knife, except for the knife part - I still carry that in my other pocket.

7.3.11 Becky's Quest

I come to you, oh Internet, with my hands extended imploringly, for I require thine help in a Great Quest - the Quest for the Perfect Eyeglasses.

Actually, the Internet has done (ahem) "fudge" all to help me (I want you to appreciate how PG I'm keeping this blog, Mom.) which is why I'm turning to you folks. Although my fourth-grade experiences involving a pair of huge, round glasses - this was before Harry Potter made them cool - left me despising the, uh, "gosh-darned" things, I've recently been rethinking my prejudices. I admit that looking at pictures of Victorian Kitty and Jillian Venters with their unique, perfectly suited frames has had some impact on me.

So, I wore my glasses today. And it was a nice, though not earth-shaking, change. Looking into the mirror, I couldn't help but think that this would be so much more fun if they were just a little more...interesting. Severe. Slightly fanciful. You know, like these to the right.

Unfortunately, this particular pair of frames is just cheap costume...crud. I need real glasses. I've already got an English-speaking optometrist lined up to do the lenses, so if anybody catches a glimpse of some fabulous spectacles, let me know!

Alternatively, I did find here in Jeonju a pair of black eyeglasses that are very flattering - they're just a smidgen too plain for my taste. Has anyone had any luck modifying/decorating their frames?

If you guide me to the realm of the Perfect Eyeglasses, I will in turn offer you all the native resources of Korea: thousands of gem-studded hair accessories, hundreds of pots of potent skin potions, and enough kimchi to feed your family for three generations. Actually, nix the kimchi, that stuff is too smelly (in a tasty way) to ship. Better stick with less organic compensation.