Again, a brief note of interest...

The Korean students are often named by their foreign teachers, who are asked to give them "authentic" American names. Unfortunately I don't have any brand new classes, so I'm stuck with the names already given, but I do have one class of pre-schoolers who are named Tex, Vern, and Hank, and my challenge class (oddly enough called "Special Class" here) has a student named Batman. To me, this is the best thing ever.

Things seem very hectic on the first day, but I can see how the job will get a lot easier as time goes by. Dealing with younger kids will take some getting used to, as my legs clearly weren't made for a ten minute game of "Red Light, Green Light". I'll drop some more info about teaching later on, since it's not really fair of me to discuss until I've done it for a week or two.

First experience with Korean Fried Chicken is going down tonight and I couldn't be more thrilled. Who among you would have bet that I would be in Korea over a week before I ate fried chicken? Miracles do happen.

Saw first-hand last night why many Koreans hold an unfavorable stance on American GIs. At a club we went to, there were three shaven-haired American dudes wearing oversized throw-back jerseys and shit-kicking sneers. A lot of western hip-hop was played, and in a way that reminded me of some of my kids back at ACE, these guys did their best get-krunk dance while shouting along with stale shit like DMX and (STL Represent) Jaekwon. Maybe it was the shot of Jaeger I took with one of the departing teachers, but it seemed like they were grinding on quite a number of Korean girls, while the Korean men would often just dance with each other; in the most amazing moment of kinda-gay-but-(shrug)-that's-Korea bravado that I've seen yet, two Korean men took their shirts off and demonstrated their moves to each other to Beyonce's "Crazy in Love". Anyways, I didn't even dare talk to the military guys, out of fear that I'd drunkenly tell them to ease up on the sexual harassment on the dance floor, so I know it's not fair of me to judge based on my visual stance alone... on our flight from Incheon to Pusan, Mike and I met an American officer who was by all means a stellar bro, and I guess the chance exists that if I had talked to these rabble-rousers from last night that they would have been good guys. Who knows?

Last class is coming up, so I'll leave it at that.

Briefly...

Near Pusan National University (PNU), there are a number of street vendors who seem open all hours, or at least through the prime drinking times. This area is home to "Soul Trane", a bar that seems to be all the rage among a nice mix of foreigners and Korean college students; it's the place that--if you've been keeping up with me--brought about my "bathtub" night, and it seems to be the watering hole of choice for the group of foreigners I've befriended. Back to my main point: these street vendors sell one of the most delightful late night bar-hopping snacks that a man could ever find-- corndogs with french fries cooked inside the batter. At the stand I stopped at, I managed to get one for a cool 600 won (60 cents), which almost made me consider making them a daily part of my diet. This story goes nowhere, but I'm glad to tell it.

I start teaching classes tomorrow... very excited to be over with orientation, which dragged on for this entire week despite the fact that I could have been presented all of its information in one day. I taught a golden Model Lesson today about the differences between "Might" and "Will" for the other teachers; apparently the Korean teachers were all really impressed, although anything approaching constructive criticism seems hard to find here. Overall, I'm confident that this will be the easiest teaching job I've ever had. I think that's a good thing, at least for now.

Regarding the coolest man I've ever met...

As previously mentioned, last night the other foreign teachers and I went out to a German-style restaurant in a more cosmopolitan area of Pusan, which at some point I'll be able to give you by name. Like many of these places that cater to foreigners, it was housed within a ritzy hotel (again, name escapes me, but I've got photos), but today was pay day (for the teachers who've been here more than a week at least) and thus no luxury was out of reach. Also like many of these places that cater to foreigners, this German-style restaurant was at the same time a sub-par pizzeria, a disco with a house band named "Grasshopper" (no joke), and a mock island paradise with inflatable fish hanging from the ceiling... in other words, it wasn't entirely sure who the hell it was catering to, so it just tossed as many different themes into the pot as it could. Final point of comparison: any place that appeals to us 'Mericans charges at least double the amount for beer/food that a normal restaurant would.

Anyways, I guess I'll start by briefly describing Grasshopper, a female-fronted five-piece that, according to the flyer posted out front, starred an electric saxophonist. When they took the stage, I was disappointed to see that there was no electric saxophonist, although the keyboardist did often play using the "saxophone" sound... I was hoping for somethig more akin to the Tri-Lambda performance in "Revenge of the Nerds", but fuck if I don't secretly pray for that at any concert I go to. For my first live show in Korea (I don't count the Jazz-Haus), it was pretty mediocre; they played "Lady Marmalade" and some Lionel Ritchie song, but everything else was incomprehensible and bland. The Koreans in attendance loved them though.

How do I even begin to describe how much I love Korean businessmen? The restaurant had one pool table on an island platform across from our table, and a group of businessmen were using it from the moment we arrived. After ordering and eating our food (a "capable" pizza, although they're really skimpy on meat and sauce here; as a side-note, it's very hard to get pizza that doesn't include sweet corn as a topping), Mike Mackenzie and I were anxious to challenge the guys, as they didn't seem particularly gifted (plus they were waste-oid, a mandatory business practice here from what I've read). On going up to them, they were immediately excited to get us involved in the game. I WISH I had a picture of these dudes, since I'd like to keep the visual there forever, but alas, I only have a vague description at the ready: the boss was decked out in a nice white button-up shirt, skinny as a rail, well-coiffed but sweaty from drinking, and noticeably older than the others. His surrounding party were all wearing the same polo shirt with company logo on the front, and were clearly catering to every whim he had. The Koreans asked us whether we wanted to gamble, and being a confident bunch, we suggested a round of beers be bought by the losers; understand that the whole time we're discussing this, the boss has his arm(s) around me and/or Mike. Periodically he breaks from speaking in stunted English and speaks Korean with the shortest guy in the bunch, who then translates everything he said for us. Our conversation mostly consisted of us giving our thoughts on Korea and them nodding excitedly when I told them things like, "Koreans are much friendlier than Americans" and "I actually think the food here is pretty good."

The first game went well for a while... I sank a number of balls (insert joke here), and with each shot made, the business guys would erupt in clapping and shouts of "GOOD SHOT!" The boss was a pretty terrible player, but every now and then he would take his pool stick and play air guitar to the agile sounds of Grasshopper. Mike and I ended up losing when I scratched on the 8-ball, but the boss refused to take our money for beer and instead bought two of the largest-size pitchers for us ($32). We played another game, but this time the boss motioned to another member of his posse to play. Whoever he was, he was really good; I wouldn't be shocked if they keep him on staff just for moments like this. He knew how to use english on the ball, was banking balls off of the rails properly, and so on. We sank a few of our Stripes, but it was a lost cause from the beginning. When the Korean team got down to the 8-ball, the boss motioned for the expert to miss the shot, which he promptly did. After I missed badly on my shot, the expert squatted down and put his hand on the railing precisely on the point that the boss needed to hit the cue ball off of to make an impressive shot. Two of the other underlings squatted and pointed similarly, each on the point where the ball would hit off of. The boss proceeded to take the shot as suggested and of course sank it in spectacular fashion. If I had video of all of this, you'd understand how amazing it was to witness; I want--NEED--these guys at my wedding.

The boss kept holding my hand, which sounds gay but isn't in Korea, and he also fed me (in "Open the Hangar"-style) some of the German sausage that he had bought, which sounds gay and might actually be gay. My excuse: I was drunk and the sausage looked really good compared to the ho-hum pizza I had had earlier. By the end of the night, these guys probably spent at least 50 dollars on us, and until my dying day, they will be the best dudes I've ever met in my life. They left before we did, arm-in-arm singing boisterous Korean ballads. Good times.

Addendum to "Not for the Squeamish"

After a very subtle, mostly implied conversation with Nick, the head teacher at ECC, I was given a note for the pharmacy to supply me with an ointment capable of rendering the previously-mentioned bug bite harmless. The pharmacist supplied me with a cream called "Kid A", which means I can only hope that Thom Yorke also suffered from an ass-welt at some point in his life. I applied a glop in my school's bathroom and crossed my fingers.

At about 9:00 last night, my egg hatched. The eagle soared, and all things ran dry. It ruined a pair of my boxers, but the sense of relief knowing that this was only a 24 hour malady was more than enough to make up for them.

Funny story that acts somewhat as a predecessor for a post to come:

In the morning, I couldn't angle my rear in a way that I could see whether or not I was growing a tail in the mirror. Like any concerned person, I was desperate for visual affirmation, so I used my digital camera to take a couple of photos of the upper portion of my ass. I brought them up on my laptop, puked, and moved on with my day, not thinking twice about their presence on my memory card.

Last night, the other foreign teachers and I went out to a faux-German restaurant (of which I have numerous photos and stories, but those are for another post), and like any newcomer, I brought my camera along. Ryan, my future roommate (gruff Texan, imposing physical presence, reminds me of Wilford Brimley if he was a 28 year-old offensive lineman), asked if he could see my camera. Without thinking, I handed it to him and he started looking through my pictures. The first few he saw were random shots of the skyline or what-have-you, but then... "What the fuck!? Is that your ass!?"

I felt after its physical presence had run its course that maybe my humiliation was over, but apparently from this point on I'm going to be labelled as the guy who took close-up photos of his ass. Good stuff.

Various stories from the past few days...

For the few of you who have urged me to post more often, I apologize. Once I get into my apartment next Monday, things should become a little more consistent. With that being said, here are a few sparkling moments I've had recently:

1) After leaving a BBQ held by the departing teachers from my hagwon (in short: good time, no normal-size buns in Korea, Hite beer is a little watered down, the rooftop on which it was held could potentially be dangerous when I'm plastered), I had the pleasure of riding in the best cab in Korea. The driver was initially quiet, but I saw him reaching for a tape in the glove compartment. Once popped in, the dulcet sounds of Julio Iglesias filled the cabin, and the driver smiled at me and nodded, "Julio Iglesias?" Having broken the ice, he told me in pidgin English that he had been to America--NYC, Chicago, and San Francisco specifically-- and enjoyed it very much. We had a stunted conversation about gimchi and Korean pronunciation, and he told me which landmarks other cab drivers would know so that I could more easily explain how to get back to my motel. All in all, a great dude, and I tipped him nicely, despite it not being necessary here.

2) I went to what I've heard called an Orange Restaurant for the first time by myself yesterday. These places are all over the area by my hagwon, so apparently it's important to understand what you're doing there. I ordered gimchi bokkumbop (egg over fried rice with seaweed served with a side of kimchi), since I'd had some on an earlier excursion with some other foreign teachers and liked it. A father and his three kids sat at a table next to me, and throughout my meal, these kids would come up to me and say hello, smiling ear-to-ear. Apparently this is something you get used to; many parents, when seeing foreigners, want their children to show off their English skills in a natural setting, and I have no problem since typically the kids are adorable. Anyways, I'm glad that I got through the whole ordeal unscathed, and the woman serving me even gave me a menu with items that she thought I'd like circled. This story lacks excitement, but sometimes even little things like this seem adventurous as hell when you first get here, especially when you're not under the watchful eye of the experienced foreigners.

3) Don't even get me started on the food here; the prices are outrageously cheap, but the quality is almost always insanely good. The best thing I've had so far is Mandu (dumplings stuffed with pork and vegetables drowned in a sweet sauce), which is very American of me, but oh well. A plateful (10-12 thick dumplings) cost 3000 won ($3.00). My first day here, Mike Hughes and I went to a bulgolgi place, not knowing at the time what it was. Again, for 3000 won a piece, we got a huge bowl of bulgolgi (marinated beef) that was cooked on a metal plate in front of us. Along with that, there were freshly-cooked slices of garlic, some kind of potato cakes, and fresh lettuce to wrap everything within. If I'm having a difficult time explaining this, it's because with every meal you seem to get at least 4-5 free sides that you apparently incorporate into the main dish. Actually, describing food is not a strength of mine, so I should probably keep myself from doing it until I get more well-versed. Long story short, the food is good and really cheap, and like I told some people already, you could probably eat at a different restaurant every day of the year and not have to leave a one-mile radius.

4) An older teacher named Mary has been showing me around over the past couple of days, despite the fact that when we first hung out we had to respond to an older Korean man who asked us whether we were "intimate friends". Blushes, of course, spread like wildfire during this exchange. Anyways, she showed me the subway system and took me to Hauendae, the most popular beach-front in Pusan. First off, the subway is really easy to use, with only two main lines existing right now; a third one is apparently set to open by the end of the year, thus all of the construction in my area. The trains are very clean compared to ones in other cities I've visited, and stops are both numbered and in English, making it the least intimidating way of getting around in Korea that I've found so far.

There are plenty of pictures of Haeundae that I'll put up once I get to the apartment, so I'm not going to waste too much time trying to put it into words. It was a hazy day for summertime in Pusan, so the beach was pretty empty relative to some of the stories I've heard; apparently at it's busiest, over a million people crowd onto the sand and boardwalk there, and having glanced at a tourist guide or two, it seemed to me that there would be an ocean of umbrellas dominating the beach when I got there. Alas, there were only a few groups of kids on a field trip, a bunch of older Koreans employed to keep the area clean (can be identified by bright yellow shirts), and a couple of other groups not so easily classified. Still, the fish market (not as large as Gwangali (I think that's what it's called)) was amazing to peruse, with octopi and eel just as common as the seafood you'd find in the States. According to Mary, if you buy eel there, the shop owner will chop it up in front of you and you can eat its segments as they still squirm. I'm not sure if I'm ready for that just yet. The main aquarium in Pusan was also right off the beach there, and this is where I plan on scuba diving in the shark tank once some of the other STL folks arrive here.

Mary, Mike, and I only had an hour or two to spend here before school started, but it was enough to convince me that I'll need to go back before it becomes too cold to swim. I also went to my first Korean Dunkin' Donuts, which is home to the one American delicacy that I will feel no guilt feasting on.

That's all for now... thanks for your continued support.

Not for the squeamish...

(I shit you not: do not read this if you are bothered at all by the grotesque.)

I bring this up only to demonstrate my commitment to honesty, along with the delicious horror of it all... Think of the worst bug bite you've ever been struck with multiplied by a thousand and then you might begin to understand what I found on myself last night. Somehow, an intrepid mosquito took it upon himself to navigate perhaps through my shirt and boxer shorts to the very spot below the tail of my spine. Nestling himself between the upper portion of my ass cheeks, he decided to take a sip of my sweet nectar, depositing his own share of poison to make sure no gift went unreturned. Over time, this bite has turned into a massive gobstopper-sized welt, and despite no intentional itching on my part, just the movement of my ass has been enough to cause it to grow even further. At this point, I consider it a kind of katamari (just play the game already), growing in diameter by the day; I anxiously await the day when a crimson pulsing bowling ball rips my pants open from the back, stunning everyone in sight. I hope none of this ever happens to you; it hurts even when I think of sitting down.

I've now set my mind to devising unique torture methods for every insect I find in my love motel, turning Room 301 into a miniaturized Abu Ghraib. If I could find a six-legged Lyndie England (or whatever her name was), I would reward her nicely for her assistance.

I'll be posting more pertinent stories later on today, but presently this is taking up a considerable percentage of my thoughts. Pray for me. Also, if any of you can trump my "Worst Insect Bite Ever" story, maybe I'll buy you a Korean pencil case or something. Go ahead and try.

(Also, in the need to be humanitarian and all, best wishes to any of you who have family/friends in the Louisiana area. I haven't kept up enough with the coverage on CNN World here, but from the snippets I've managed to see, it looks terrible.)

First time in a PC Bang...

A PC Bang is essentially a Korean version of the Internet Cafe, minus coffee and hipster clientele, plus 50 kids between the ages of 12 and 18. Counterstrike and Warcraft seem to be the popular choices on the floor, and periodically a group of kids will start singing along with the ballads that are playing over the loud speakers. It's on the 9th floor of a building across the street from my school, and while I've only been in here for 10 minutes, I'm already anxious to get net access at home.

Two other teachers and I went to this place called the Jazz Haus last night; unfortunately I didn't get a chance to take any photos, but imagine a dead-ringer for the bar that Chow Yun Fat plays at in "Hard-Boiled". The sax player there whaled some cherry jams, most sounding either like Glenn Frey's "You Belong to the City" or a bed-side tune from a Shannon Tweed movie. The crowd leaned towards the older end of things, so we merely had two beers and called it a night. I watched some Pride Fighting Championships at the motel, soaked my shoulder and knees in the tub (one still sore from dislocation, one sore from my previous night of fake splits), and fell asleep pretty early.

Now that I know this place has USB Ports (my CPU at school does not), I'll upload some photos ASAP. Take care all.