West Gone East

The End

2006-11-25T02:45:00.000+09:00

You all may rest easy, for I have made it home safely, with only a minimum of delays and not a single crash. It is, to say the least, a surreal feeling to be back in Vancouver after a fifteen month sojourn to places elsewhere, and it's good to see that the weather hasn't changed a bit. My thanks to everyone who bothered to pay attention to my exploits, especially for the support, advice, and sometimes even criticism. Here's a few more final shoutouts:

Thanks to all the locals who went out of the way to make me feel welcome in their cities: Cheryl and Danial in Kuala Lumpur, Niew and Laila in Bangkok, Keri in Hanoi, Tammi in Bangkok, and especially Kareen in Singapore, for going above and beyond in the realm of hospitality.

To everyone who put me up; Thanh and Sven in Stockholm, Vivian for letting me housesit in Bangkok, Virginie in Paris, and Ashleigh in Nice, along with the host of colorful characters she lives with. Of course, to everyone at www.couchsurfing.com and my global hosts: Natalie and Andrew in Saigon, Vika and Deric in Moscow, Julia in Helsinki and Vanessa in Lyon.

To Mark, aka the Man in Seat 61, for his research and advice, along with his website www.seat61.com, an invaluable resource for anyone attempting any sort of rail-based travel. Furthermore, to Tania in Bangkok, for getting me a spot on the Trans-Siberian after weeks of frustration.

Finally, to my parents, my family and my friends for encouragement and support, especially anyone that played the role of my eyes and ears, when I needed info that I couldn't get access to myself.

With all that said, it is my sad duty to announce that this is the final (and, fittingly, also the 100th) post of the West Gone East blog, since, well, I'm no longer East by any standards, except perhaps Hawaii. It's been a great experience and I'm happy you've all enjoyed following it. If I set off again, I might try another of these bloggy things, but for now if anyone wants to know what I'm up to... Well, you know where I live! Swing on by.

THE END

Homeward Bound

2006-11-21T01:31:00.000+09:00

The last several days have been perfectly peaceful, spent meandering along the Mediterranean coast from Nice to Aix-en-Provence to Marseille. The weather has been warm, the food good, and I arrived just in time for the first wine of the season to come out. All in all, an excellent ending to a long trip.

Tomorrow morning I set out to fly to London, bunker down in the airport overnight, and then make for Vancouver. My full circle of the globe is nearly complete... And I'm very, very ready for it.

See you all soon...

Le Denoument Nicois

2006-11-16T22:03:00.000+09:00

Bonjour, mes amies!

I'm finally here, in the final country of my trip. My third visit to France is a bit more crisp than the previous two, but no less enjoyable. In fact, the weather is significantly warmer than anything I've been dealing with in the past month, and the return to psuedo-tropical warmth is a distinct blessing and apt final note on my travels.

I had a pleasant, if short visit in Paris, enjoying the City of Light with Rob and Ashleigh. The Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triumph, and my personal favorite, the winding streets of Montmarte, straight out of films like Amelie and Moulin Rouge. Unfortunately, everything serves as a reminder that both my linguistic skills in French and my pallet for wine are woefully sub par. I've set the goals of using my final week to improve both.

After France I hopped on the train to head south, stopping briefly in Lyon to have lunch with Vanessa, a friend of mine from the Ivory Coast whom I met in Japan. Then it was straight on to Nice, to gaze happily at the sparkling blue waters of the C'ot D'azur (if not to go spashing about in them - it's not quite that warm). I'm staying in a high school where Ashleigh is teaching, and though I'm surrounded by international language teachers, the communal language used is French, so I'm quickly having to relearn as much as I can through trial and error (though mostly error).

Au revoir, ju suis allez a le plage! J'aime le soleil...

West Gone North

2006-11-12T16:25:00.000+09:00

Ahhh, a Swedish autumn - where the leaf colours are vivid and the sluggish sun never makes it too far above the horizon. Not to mention, most importantly, no snow! It may be crisp, but there's nary a spot of white in sight, and that's just fine by me. Alas, no Northern Lights as well, but I've gone about as far north as I'm willing to strike this time of year.

I'm currently staying in Stockholm with friends Thanh and Sven (she's a 4'10" Vietnamese Londoner, he's a 6'4" blonde haired Swede - what a combo!). I met Thanh in Barcelona during my original European foray in '02, and again in Bristol in '04 - she's become a European staple! They've been wonderful in introducing me to Swedish traditions, like rolling Swedish meatballs and gorging at a smorgasbord.

Stockholm has been quite pleasant, and represents the end of my true journey - that of going from Asia to Europe by land and sea only. Today I guiltily break my 'no flights' resolution and board a Ryan Air plane bound for Paris - it really is the cheapest way to get around Europe! Back to the City of Lights, where my entire Asian experience, and consequently this blog, cound arguably trace its roots to - to see how I ended up in Korea via France, you'll have to go all the way back to the first blog post ever made to investigate...

Off I go then, to meet former roommate Rob over visiting from Newcastle, as well as former birthmate (?) Ashleigh currently teaching English in Nice. Allez, allez! Vite vite!

Almost Finnish'd

2006-11-07T19:00:00.000+09:00

"Hey, I'll go to Finland! That's a fun idea. Maybe I'll see some snow. Wouldn't that be neat?"

These are the words I bitterly repeated to myself while pushing head-bowed through a swirling snowstorm in Helsinki yesterday, seeking shelter. I huddled into the several layers of nearly every piece of clothing I have, casting forlorn looks at the choppy Baltic and wondering why I ever left the crystal blue waters of the Andaman behind. Woe, oh woe!

Alright, enough kvetching. Despite some 'inconveniences', I do have to admit that Finland has a certain storybook beauty when it's buried under a couple feet of snow, especially when the storm lets up. The apartment in which I'm staying has a great forest view, and there's a rascally marten that lives just outside, providing endless amusement as he chases birds and squirrels through the trees.

Now I set off on the ferry to Sweden, and the allegedly milder climes to be found there...

From Russia With Love

2006-11-03T23:41:00.000+09:00

It snowed again today. This unto itself is hard to wrap my head around, given that this voyage began with palm trees and sandy beaches. Although regular dumps of white gold present obvious complications for a man trudging around with a 50 pound bag on his back, it does combine with the pre-revolutionary Russian architecture for some amazing visuals!

Moscow was wonderful, as were all the people I met there. My days were spent cruising Red Square and the Kremlin, and my nights exploring the hippest Moscovite cafes and bars. Big thanks go to Deric, Vika, Sacha, Faizal, Marina, Rennie and all the other colorful characters who helped brighten an already glowing city. And oh, the food! Borscht, beef strogonov, chicken kiev, and all the other wonderful, hearty fare I've been delighting in overindulging in.

The particular highlight thus far was a visit to a traditional Russian banya, a sort of hot stone sauna. I was invited on a visit to the Sanduny, one of Moscow's more opulent hotspots. Like most saunas, it involves sweating away in a steamy room, but includes the added 'pleasure' of regularly running outside to leap into wooden barrels full of ice-cold water (or, in the country, to roll in the snow). Furthermore, it is custom to regularly thrash yourself and others with bushels of dried birch branches, allegedly to free the skin of toxins. You just haven't lived till you've had an enormous, hairy Russian man beat the living stuffing out of you with handfuls of tree limbs!

Currently I'm in Saint Petersburg (remember the good ol' days when it was called Leningrad?) brushing up on my spotty Russian history and marvelling at the 'all fur, all the time' approach to fashion. I finally buckled and registered as a tourist after two weeks of successfully dodging the infamous band of extortionists known as the Russian Police. Staying mute and donning a dour expression let me blend in with the crowd - something I haven't been able to do in over a year!

Tomorrow I foolishly set out even further north to cross into Finland, bound for Helsinki. Time to get in touch with the tricksy Scandenavian roots of my e-namesake, Loki...

My Trans-Siberian Odyssey

2006-10-29T02:22:00.000+09:00

Six days, 9000 kilometers, seven timezones, five novels and one whole industrial-size box of horribly stale Chinese choco-cakes later, and I'm in Europe! It's quite a shock, after fourteen months in Asia - suddenly I'm surrounded by all these funny looking white folk...

As for the train, it was simultaneously an exhilarating and harrowing experience. I was a bit surprised to climb aboard and find that I was, in fact, the only 'foreigner' (re: non-Chinese, non-Russian) passenger on the whole train. Train cars were divvied up by nationality, but fitting into neither category, I was shuffled into a Chinese segment. My first order of business was to get used to a complete lack of private space, as I discovered the first morning I awoke to find a pair of Manchurians sitting on my bed to play cards... while I slept in it.

Nobody knew quite how to react to the scruffy Canadian invader, but I was generally treated with a combination of amusement and bemusement. My companions grew steadily more friendly, though interaction was limited, as I couldn't learn their games or join in on the banter. Eventually I could tell a meeting had been called to figure out what to do with me, as there were several looks cast in my direction and my name muttered repeatedly (my name, in this case, being 'Janada', a loose Mandarin translation for 'the Canadian'). I was a little nervous when they all disbanded with a look of resolution and disappeared for a half hour.

Soon after, the plan was revealed when a confused Chinese youth was hustled into my carriage and urged to introduce himself. I realized that my carriage-mates had scoured the train looking for a student who had studied English and thus could both converse with me, and translate for them. I was suitably touched - and could finally get my fortune told by the Hunannese oracle in cabin 4!

By the second day I had hidden my watch at the bottom of my bag, to prevent obsessing over the passage of time, and confusion over which timezone I was in. When not reading, hours could be spent watching the landscape melt from plains to mountains to birch forests to frozen lakescapes, and beyond. Ramshackle wooden villages and monolithic concrete power stations occasionally dotten the horizon. Occasionally ten-minute stops allowed me to hop off and stretch my legs, even if it was -10 and in the middle of a snowstorm.

Just as cabin fever was about to take over, the train steamed into Moscow Station (leaving me plenty confused, as I was just climbing into bed at the time - blasted timezones!). I was practically giddy, not just to get on solid ground, but to find myself back in the 'western world' after all this time. Of course, excitement slowly melted away as the realization sunk in that I had no guidebook, no map, no money, no comprehension of the Cyrillic alphabet and only a tiny vocabulary of Russian phrases, mostly gleamed from old James Bond movies.

Luckily, my Couchsurfing.com contact Viktoria was ready to curtail my flailing, even though she hadn't been warned to expect me for another day. I was immediately hustled off, complete with backpack and six days of train-stink, to a vodka bar to join in TGIF celebrations with a group of pan-European hipster architects. As if that weren't random enough, the next night I found myself discussing the finer points of Cossack kick-dancing at a dinner party with the staff of the Indonesian Embassy!

Now that I've got my bearings and have had one of the most blissful showers of my life, I'm ready to tackle Russia head-on! I speak, of course, figuratively, as Russia is daunting and powerful, and would block a literal tackle like a 400 pound defenseman. Das vydanya, comrades!

Return to Beijing

2006-10-21T17:18:00.000+09:00

I hadn't originally planned to end up in Beijing on this trip, but with Kazakhstan refusing me a visa, I've had to reroute and aim to enter Russia through the proverbial backdoor. B-Town is quite a bit warmer than the last time I was here in January for Chinese New Year, and there's significantly fewer explosions. Still, it retains the fervent energy one expects from the capital city of the most populous country in the world.

I've gotten into the habit of taking early-morning bike rides through public parks, just to watch the bewhildering flurry of activity to be found there, from troups of suit-clad businessmen doing morning calisthetics to little old ladies brandishing swords as they go through wushu maneuvers. Ballroom waltzing, line dancing, chorus practice, hacky sack, string orchestras, ribbon spinning, fan dancing, kung fu, yoga, belly dancing - nearly anything you want to get the blood pumping in the morning, you can find being practiced! By all ages, no less - I saw a group of septuagenarians nimbly kicking a hacky sack around with far more accuracy than I could ever muster.

I've been horribly spoiled, to boot - Vivian, a local friend I met on my last visit, offered to let me housesit her apartment while she vacations in America, so I've been enjoying the comforts of home for the first time in two months. Big thanks to Viv, as well as her roommate Tammi, who's been both generous and helpful as I figure out my way around this huge city.

As for where I'm going from here, I'm about to set off on the Trans-Manchurian Railway bound for Moscow. This is, essentially, the same line across Russia as the Trans-Siberian, except it cuts north through Manchuria to meet up with the TS line just west of Vladivostok. I'm looking at a straight week on a train in a four berth cabin - no stops, no showers, nothing except 8,986 kilometers of Siberian scenery. I've loaded up on novels, including Crime and Punishment - if there was ever a time to buckle down and finally tackle Dostoevsky, now's it.

Another big thanks to Tania, a local travel agent and friend of Vivian's who helped me fight through the red tape and rigamarole of trying to get a train ticket, after Chinese agencies refused me and Russian ones tried to extort me. Everyone in Beijing has been so helpful, it's unbelievable.

Alright - I've got a small library, a week's worth of instant noodles, and some long underwear. Siberia, here I come! If I don't post again by November, I'm probably locked away in a gulag somewhere...

Sizzlin' Sichuan

2006-10-16T22:02:00.000+09:00

The next stop in my China adventure was the province of Sichuan, notably infamous for its excessively spicy cuisine. I admit that, after some initial eye-watering forays, I opted for the better part of valour and skirted around the more formidable flavours. Seriously, this stuff is above and beyond.

Luckily, Sichuan had something a bit less terrifying to draw me in: pandas! Sichuan makes up one of the few areas in China where the elusive panda is found, and a visit to the world's largest panda conservatory let me glimpse these rare animals. Although there's tragically few left in the world, I'm happy to say that the conservatory seemed like a fully humane and positive place, and despite being reputedly lazy, it was a delight to watch the animals play, wrestle, cavort, and even just sit around munching bamboo.

After Sichuan I moved on to Shaanxi Province to visit Xi'an, the old capital of China and location of the second most notable symbol of Chinese tourism: the Terracotta Army! I spent a day wandering around the excavation pits filled with amazingly detailed, and plentiful, baked soldiers buried to protect the tomb of Emperor Qin.

Although Xi'an has plenty to offer by way of historical attractions, I'm disappointed to mention that the air pollution here is horrible. I haven't seen the sun since I got here, and it's not even due to clouds. Air quality in most of urban Asia is quite bad, but never before have I longed for some fresh Vancouver air more...

On that note, let it be known that I've officially, and finally, booked my flight home! I fly out of London Gatwick airport on Nov. 22nd, and arrive in Vancouver two hours later. Tricky timezones again, but at least this time no curve ball from the International Date Line. Let the homeward countdown begin!

A Week in Shangri-la

2006-10-10T15:23:00.000+09:00

Yes, it's true - I'm in Shangri-la, and I mean that both literally and metaphorically! I write from Lijang in Northern Yunnan Province, just on the eastern fringe of Tibet. The area has laid claims as the location of the mythic Shangri-la as described by James Hilton in his novel, Lost Horizon. I can now confirm firsthand that it was without exaggeration that the region laid claims as a paradigm of peacefulness.

I've spent the last several days working north from Kunming, traveling through the old walled mountain villages of Dali and Lijang. Life moves at a different pace here, and with the distant fringe of the Himalayas (and the dearth of tourists brought on by low season) it's quite easy to feel like I'm in a whole different world altogether. Cycling through tiny fishing villages along Er'hai Lake, or wandering along the banks of Black Dragon Pond, the rest of the world seems particularly far away.

The local ethnic group is the Naxi, and their culture is quite unique. Food tends to have a distinctly Tibetan feel (yak meat, yak butter, yak cheese... you get the idea) and music reigns, as it's not uncommon to find a group of elderly men and women happily singing to themselves down small cobbled alleyways early in the morning. Most fascinating, however, is that the Naxi are one of the last remaining matriarchal cultures in the world, with power and wealth being possessed exclusively by the women, and passed down through daughters. Since women were allowed to take many husbands, and made up most of the workforce, perhaps it's not so surprising that it was a man who first declared Shangri-la a utopia.

If there's a downside, it's that Fall is settling into the region like a hammer, and while most others roam comfortably in alpine jackets and toques, I'm stuck with the warmest of my tropical clothing. Time to suck it up and buy some padding, since I'm going quite a ways northward from here.

China itself has been quite a shock to the system, coming from the tourist mecca of Southeast Asia. While the previous countries I've visited have been all too eager to make my stay comfortable and convenient (I do, after all, have those Western dollars they're so fond of), China could really care less of my presence. This was a particular slap in the face, as I used a smaller border crossing, and found myself the only foreigner in a town without a word of English, written or spoken. I know it's wrong for me to have expected it, but I was so nervous about getting through, I admit I'd done little to prepare myself for the other side!

I'm slowly adapting, though getting around is still quite difficult, particularly with my ineptitude with Mandarin, as with all tonal languages. And oh, my kingdom for a western toilet...

Ni Hao, Baby

2006-10-04T11:58:00.000+09:00

I'm in! Thank goodness for clueless smiles and impatient border officials. I've safely crossed into Hekou, China in the Yunnan Province, where I'm waiting for a bus to Kunming and enjoying a mid-morning beer with the bus station manager. Not to mention breathing a heavy sigh of relief...

Vietnam... And Beyond?

2006-10-03T22:22:00.000+09:00

Wow, that Reunification Express is an experience. 35 straight hours on a train, crammed into a six-bunk cabin with five Vietnamese and not a word of shared language between us. Of course, that didn't prevent friendly interaction and a lot of food sharing, though to this day I don't know what half of what I ate was. It was exhausting, but rolling through the heart of a typhoon made for some vivid visuals, not to mention tense moments; the storm left six dead and many trains stopped and blocked, but somehow we sailed through unscathed.

Hanoi itself has a heaping dose of personality: French colonial architecture mingled with Communist billboards, statues of Lenin and picturesque pagodas. I took a gander at Ho Chi Minh's masoleum, though unfortunately the 'guest of honour' was out being re-pickled for the winter - it'll be a big dissapointment if I go through Vietnam, China and Russia and don't see one preserved Communist corpse!

The highlight of Vietnam thus far was taking a trip out to Halong Bay, and exploring it's otherworldly topography from the deck of an elegant junker (seriously, it's not an oxymoron). Hundreds of small limestone islands jut out of the water to create towering cliffs, foreboding caves and one helluva panoramic view. A stark contrast to the largely marshy, tropical flatlands of the interior.

Now, I've reached Zero Hour. The pivotal moment, the turning point. I'm about to catch an overnight trail to Lo Cai, which marks the northern border crossing into China. I've spent a good deal of my time in Vietnam touring the embassy scene trying to work out my passport situation, with a mix of responses. Canada remains highly doubtful, while China insists 'no problem, no problem'... but there may be a language barrier there. Without any definitive answer to go on, I've decided to just show up at the border, put on my most dazzling smile, and try to stroll on through. Cross your fingers 'round the world for me, since if this doesn't work, it may prove an insurmountable roadblock.

Now, if the next couple weeks are filled with bloggy silence, don't panic - that's a good thing. There's a rumour that China deems Blogspot to be too anti-Communist for their liking, and has banned it. Should this be true, I won't be able to post again till Moscow. If not, I'll send up a victory cheer. And if I don't get through, well, I'll do my best to translate unconsolable weeping into text format.

And awaaaaaay I go!

Good Morning Vietnam!

2006-09-29T18:02:00.000+09:00

I'm in Vietnam! Insert the oblicatory Apocalypse Now joke here. The horror, napalm in the morning, etc etc. Amusingly, I actually went to a dance club last night that was called 'Apocalypse Now'. An unusual theme, given the nature of the movie.

I'm currently in Ho Chi Minh City, though I'll henceforth use it's more musical appellation: Saigon. The city is certainly vibrant, in no small part due to the 24 hour thrum of a million motorbikes in constant motion. Sitting in a cafe and watching traffic is an experience unto itself; I've seen two accidents already! Mealing is all pho, all the time, coupled with excellent Vietnamese coffees. The only drawback currently is the 'rainy season' weather, which blindsides me with drop-of-a-hat downpours when I least expect it.

One of the more noteworthy discoveries thus far would be the 'beer hoi', essentially a literal 'hole in the wall' establishment just big enough for a home-brew beer keg, which passes out plastic jugs of beer for fifty cents apiece. It is, of course, my sacred duty as a traveler to explore such local cultural quirks.

I'm just about to set off on the Reunification Express, the railway line connecting Saigon and Hanoi in the north, running the full length (height?) of the country. The trip will take 35 hours nonstop, but promises to be plenty scenic. The general goal was to seek drier climes, but with all of Vietnam currently facing a typhoon warning, this may be a lofty ambition at best. Here's hopin'!

A Khmer Quickie

2006-09-26T18:47:00.000+09:00

Cambodia is a shocking contrast to the countries I've visited thus far. The land itself has a mystical beauty, but the ravages of war, tyrrany and poverty keep one pretty grounded in it's tragic history. Flooded rice paddies stretch off into the horizon, naked children bathe in ditches and water buffalo roam with impunity. Traffic is a constant buzz of blaring motorcycles and signs regularly remind you that the landscape is still dotted with unexploded mines.

The blind trappings of typical paradise may be behind me, but this land is certainly not without it's wonders. Angor Wat lives up to it's reputation in full, and then some. I rented a bicycle and spent a whole day puffing around the Temples of Angor, only to take in a small fraction of the architectural marvels of the ancient Khmer kingdoms. Truly magnificent stuff.

And oh, the food! Surprisingly, I've found Khmer cuisine to be my favorite thus far on the trip. The more subdued, earthier flavours are kinder on my expanding-but-exhausted palate. If anyone knows where to find good amok in Vancouver, well, you and I have a date when I get back.

Unfortunately, I've had to virtually careen across the country to get myself back on schedule, doing Cambodia in a whirlwind three days. Currently I'm in Phnom Penh, one of the less phoenetically-friendly world capitals out there, and tomorrow I set off for the Vietnamese border.

Oh, and on an aside: I have officially been on the road for one month, and my effort at a grizzled traveler's beard is still pubescent at best. Curse the fickle furies who fix my follicle fate!

Escape From Thailand

2006-09-24T23:13:00.000+09:00

The past few days have read in a manner reminiscent of 'A Series of Unfortunate Events', unfortunately.

As it turns out, I'd been a bit off base in assuming that Northern Thailand was unaffected by the coup. Chiang Mai was the home city, and thus political powerbase, of Prime Minister Thaksin, the man ousted and sent into exile by the whole incident. As the army feared Thaksin might use Chiang Mai as a launching point for his return, military presence became very heightened and humourless. Furthermore, civil rights were taking a bit of a beating under the current regime, with freedom of assembly being dissolved and speaking ill of the coup punishably by six months in jail. Not that I would, of course. Pretty coup, go army, etc...

While waiting in the airport, I had my brush with trouble when a rather outspoken local American expat took a seat next to me. He certainly saw some issues with the change of power, and wasn't shy in voicing them to me, despite the stifling presence of many, many heavily armed soldiers. I managed to politely excuse myself and high-tail it out of there just as some displeased-looking gentlemen in fatigues started to close in. I didn't wait to see the outcome.

Alas, that was just the beginning of a problematic day, for as I went to board my flight to Laos, I was informed that I was no longer welcome. Funny, I'd spent so long worrying about getting out of Thailand, I hadn't stopped to think about getting into Laos. As it turns out, my passport has now crossed the 'six months till expiry' deadline, which makes me ineligable to cross half of the world's borders. Including Laos.

Stunned, I had to sit and watch as my plane left without me, leaving me stuck in Thailand with an unused ticket. A good row with my booking agency had me sent back to Bangkok to take it up with head office, which I did with gusto. I was apprehensive about returning to the center of the coup, but was surprised to find the atmosphere far more amiable than in the north, with Thai children climbing on parked tanks and soldiers patiently posing for pictures in front of the palace.

Finally, I managed to get my money back, along with a bus ticket into Cambodia. As I already had a valid visa for Cambodia, I hoped to be allowed to enter. I was holding my breath when I actually reached customs, but they ushered me through without incident. What followed was one of the most painful rides of my life, with the road between the Thai/Cambodia border and Siem Reap being an unpaved, uneven terrain of bone-crushing madness. Rumours of the brutal ride had circled through Thailand, but I had to experience it to believe it. And all I can say is 'ow'. Ow ow OW.

Now I'm in Siem Reap, home to the vaunted Angor Wat, which I plan to explore tomorrow. Of course, the issue of my expiring passport has dire implication for my trip, as I'm currently trying to discern which countries I'll still be admitted to, and how it'll alter my route. I don't have access to a Canadian Embassy until Vietnam, but hopefully they'll be able to shed some light as well.

Cross your fingers for me, and try to ignore the fact that I probably should have known about this 'six month' detail in advance...

Into the Hills

2006-09-21T18:59:00.000+09:00

It was with some apprehension that I set out on a three day exploration of the mountains that saturate Thailand's far north, and create it's borders with Myanmar and Laos. The area is dotted with indiginous hill tribes that defy assimilation and maintain traditional ways of life via the tourism they bring in, so my invasive guilt was partially diluted.

The first gambit into the hills was a trying one - it's rainy season, and the weather took no pity on a poor city boy like me. It made for some slippery, often near-vertical slopes, and waist-deep, raging rivers that needed to be plowed through. Luckily such storms tend to be brief, and would last just long enough to soak me before the sun returned to dry the mud on my buttocks, then repeat the process.

At the peak of our first mountain we found one of the villages, consisting of a few scattered bamboo huts and some sloped rice fields. The views were breathtaking, especially with the low-hanging rain clouds I'd climbed through. The people were friendly and welcoming, one family inviting my small hiking troupe to stay the night in their hut. Of course, the spectacle of foreigners meant the whole family showed up for dinner - aunts, uncles, cousins... pretty much the whole village. We ate, sang songs by candlelight, and learned some local massage techniques. If there was a downside, it would be that proper manners forbid me from turning down the fried butterfly grubs I was offered, which tastes oddly like french fries. I managed to make myself scarce when the platter of crickets and cockroaches went around the room.

On an amusing sidenote, this tribe spoke a unique dialect with one noteworthy quirk. The word for both 'hello' and 'thank you' was abooya. Talk about surreal - walking through a remote Thai village and having smiling locals call 'ABOOYA!' at you as you pass.

The next day was a slippery slide down the far side of the mountain, including a shower under a waterfall. At the base we mounted elephants to cross the valley, where we found a river almost overflowing from the rain. Climbing into rafts, we were treated to some roaring rapids that more than made up for the quiet waters in Korea. At some points the rising water levels made it so rough we had to portage.

Further down the river we found slightly less rustic accomodations for the night, and the next day set out farther north, seeking out the junction if the Mekong River where the borders of Myanmar, Laos and Thailand meet. The bridge to Myanmar was closed, as I would later learn due to the coup in progress. However, it was an eerie sight, looking past the gates, as the rains had begun flooding the slightly-lower bank of Myanmar, filling its streets with muddy water. Despite this, I couldn't resist the call of the historic Mekong, and hired a longboat to take me a bit up-river, where I 'illegally' hopped out on the Laotian border to rest for a bit. Tomorrow I'll go back with visa.

From here we followed the Burmese border east in search of the Karen village, made famous by numerous National Geographic photographers. Everyone's seen the pictures - the tribal women have their necks wrapped in brass rings at a young age, causing the shoulders and collarbones to slowly lower and the necks to extend. The sight was still a shocking one, with some of the older women having necks over a foot long. The necks are seen as a mark of beauty, but apparently originate from a more pragmatic need - they were designed to protect from tiger attacks, which was once a major danger in the Burma/Thai border region.

After this it was time to return to Chiang Mai, where I was in for a bit of a surprise - read on in the post below for the continuation of that tale...

Viva La Revolution!

2006-09-21T00:21:00.000+09:00

Y'know, I figured that when news of the coup in Thailand broke I'd be flooded with e-mails... I hadn't expected that most of them would be to accuse me of having caused the whole thing. I'm not sure if it's because you all have too little faith in me, or too much...

Yes, I'm fine, despite all the trouble in Thailand recently. The bomb incident was in Hat Yai in the far south (which is the only area troubled by separatist terrorists), while I'm in the north. As for the coup, it's been bloodless and peaceful, and aside from a bit of military presence, there doesn't seem to be too much impact outside of Bangkok.

I was actually oblivious to the coup - I've been trekking in the mountains for the past three days with no communication. I was heading back into town today when the cell phone of a Japanese guy beside me on the bus rang. He had a quick, worried conversation, then turned to try and explain to me. Having no English to work with, he resorted to his electronic dictionary, translating one phrase: coup d'etat.

I was convinced this was a translation error, but by then we were entering the city limits, and the occasional tank or military vehicle could be seen stationed by the road. Anxieties quickly started to rise, but I was assured by some locals who'd been following the news that there was nothing to worry about. Some were even amused, saying that it'd been too long since their last coup anyways (they used to be quite commonplace).

Point is, I'm safe in Chiang Mai, and I'm leaving for Laos in two days anyways. With land borders rumoured to be closed (and there being no roads to Laos from here, only a three day riverboat) I've opted to fly across the border. So much for that 'land routes only' resolution, but hey, desperate times...

I'll write more on the mountain trek tomorrow, it was quite the experience.

The Frozen Market

2006-09-17T23:46:00.000+09:00

I had a rather disquieting experience this evening...

I was strolling through Chiang Mai's expansive night market, enjoying my dinner of fried partridge eggs and a soup made from pig's blood (amongst other organs, some of which were... crunchy). The sun was setting and I was gently strongarming my way through the noisy crowd when suddenly, everything just... stopped.

Try to picture it: a huge, noisy market full of people suddenly falls completely silent and totally still. People just stopped in their tracks, staring glassily ahead. The only sound was the everpresent tinny Thai music over the sound system. I seemed to be the only person still moving, turning in confused circles trying to figure out what B horror movie I'd seen this scenario in. For those of you who know of my deep, consuming fear of zombies, you'll understand the apprehension quickly setting in...

After a couple of minutes motion resumed without missing a beat, as though nothing had happened, leaving one stupified tourist. Slowly I managed to deduce what had happened - the music on the speakers, unbeknownst to me, had switched to the national anthem, and everyone had frozen in bored reverence, as they no doubt do every night, leaving one very unsettling scene for the uninformed...

One Night in Bangkok...

2006-09-16T15:24:00.000+09:00

And the world's your oyster! If Murray Head's lyrics are true, then imagine the power I've accumulated after four nights!

When I first arrived in the capital my first impression was that it was a damn, congested mess, but it didn't take long for me to warm to the noisy center of Thailand. Soon enough the daily routine of scarfing down pad thai for breakfast, dodging amorous ladyboys and smiling through a haggle session with tuktuk drivers (and then assuming a white-knuckled grip as they dart you around town at breakneck speed) became quite pleasant. The food is great, the nightlife vivid, and I was lucky enough to befriend locals Niew and Lai La who generously guided me around both. Big thanks there.

While I was happy to soak up some big city energy, it's time to again return to the wilds. My brother convinced me to strike north into Northern Thailand and Laos before resuming my original plan into Cambodia and Vietnam. Be it noted that I have yet to go anywhere in Asia not already visited by my brother or grandparents - it's no easy thing, going where no West has gone before!

I've got to catch my train to Chiang Mai - time to go bushwacking!

Close Call?

2006-09-11T16:04:00.000+09:00

Last night, I thought I was getting mugged. Turns out it was just a very energetic Thai man trying to sell me a taser.

Didn't see that coming.

Howling at the Moon

2006-09-11T15:35:00.000+09:00

Boy howdy, that Full Moon Party is some shindig.

Yes, with some well-thrown elbows, I managed to bag myself a room on Ko Pha Ngan from while to enjoy the mounting celebrations to the full moon. Every night prior was a celebration unto itself, with revelers flocking to the beaches and enjoying liquor by the bucketfull (literally). At one point a tropical thunderstorm knocked out the power on the whole island, but that scarcely slowed down anybody!

I spent my days lounging on the beach, or getting pummeled in Muay Thai boxing classes at the local gym. Now that is one brutal martial art, with no allusions of 'self defence'... Just pure, unapologetic ass-kickery.

After dancing the night away at the nightly warmup festivities, I hadn't thought the actual Full Moon Party itself would be much different - a foolish thought, if ever there were one! When the lunar orb hit its full diameter, the overpacked island's residents mysteriously multiplied tenfold! Travelers from every corner of the world crowded onto the beach to watch amazing fire dancing shows, dance in the sand, and generally bring up the sun together. Phew.

Finding myself thoroughly partied out, I caught an early boat off the island and set out for the relative calm of the opposite coast. I sought refuge on peaceful Ko Phi Phi, with its rocky spires jutting straight out of the clear blue sea. Although recovering quickly, it was a bit sobering to see some of the remaining damage from the tsunami that they are still repairing.

At one point I rented a kayak to explore the coastline, seeking out a small beach housing a gang of gibbons. I beached myself to take a closer look at the fearless primates, only to have them hop on my kayak and try to make off with it! Seriously, I have pictures. Of all the dangers I feared having to deal with on this trip, 'monkey pirates' hadn't been one of them.

Now I'm on the larger island of Phuket, saying a fond farewell to the beaches of the south before setting off for Bangkok. I've enjoyed dabbling in the role of 'hammock hero', but frankly, after over a week of mountain villages and island towns, I'm looking forward to the bright lights of a big city!

I'm a Father!

2006-09-10T22:44:00.000+09:00

Yes, my hamsters had babies! And shame on those of you who misinterpreted that entry title.

As it turns out, the pet shop lady who insisted 'Two boys, two boys!' lied right to our faces when she made her sale. Perhaps she was just describing Richard and I. I'm just thankful I managed to pawn them off on poor Jenny, who thought the re-christened Lil' Ryan was just getting fat until 'he' gave birth to oodles of babies last night. And all that time I thought they were just fighting...

While I'm off topic travel-wise, another note: A good Korean friend of mine, Wooga, has been living in Vancouver the past few months and recently got a job at the Blenz on Denman. Ergo, if anyone finds themselves strolling along said boulevard, do pop in, find the Korean gal with the anglo-nametag 'Claire' and say hi! Make her feel welcome!

Yeah, yeah... Travel update coming tomorrow!

Lizards in Paradise

2006-09-05T01:47:00.000+09:00

Well, Malaysia was a blast. I admit, it was a real experience traveling through a predominantly Muslim country for the first time. I couldn't quite get used to walking down the street alongside women in full black burqas, nor the complete absence of pork in my diet. However, one thing can be said for certain: the architecture is magnificent! I'm still amazed by the blending of classical Islamic designs with modern technology, in examples like Luala Lumpur's National Mosque and the Petronas Twin Towers. Very stunning, and geometrically pleasing, work!

After KL I set out for the misty mountains of the Cameron Highlands in Central Malaysia, accompanied by British travel-pal Victor. In a remarkable show of maturity and self-preservation, we adopted a snooty 'local guides are for losers' attitude towards the myriad of mountain jungle hiking paths saturating the area. A few hours later we would come to slightly regret our decision, finding ourselves quite lost and no longer on anything resembling a path. Eventually, while trying to scale down a steep embankment in the hopes that it led back to civilization, I would up falling and landing uncerimoniously (and upside-down) in some tropical bush. More embarassing than painful, I assure you. Luckily we managed to follow a stream and make it back to town before nightfall, without having to kill even one tiger with my bare hands. Phooey.

After the Camerons I struck out east to the pristine Perentian Islands, a veritable backpackers' paradise. No roads, no phones, no power... Nothing but sands, surf and hammocks (with painfully basic, mosquito-net-shrouded accomodations). The beauty can scarcely be described, and you quickly got used to the fact that the island was truly ruled by five foot long monitor lizards, who would stroll idly past you as you bask on the beach.

After baking myself a nice lobster hue, I decided that Malaysia had swallowed enough of my attention and set out further north, to Thailand, from whence I currently write. Tomorrow I catch a boat to the island of Ko Phan Ngan in a race with every backpacker in the country, to secure lodgings for the Full Moon Party in a couple days. Wish me luck!

Happy National Day!

2006-08-31T14:49:00.000+09:00

It's National Day in Malaysia! By sheer luck I happened to stumble into the capital, Kuala Lumpur, just in time for this annual independence festival. After Singapore I spent some time exploring the old trading port of Melaka on the West Coast before cutting inland for the big city, and my timing couldn't have been better! KL was just revving up to celebrate, and I was quite happy to get swept away in the excitement.

After gorging, as usual, on local cuisine (including a delightful dessert of mangosteens and rambutans) with an eccentric old Malaysian lady who insisted I call her 'Auntie', I set out with some backpacker acquaintances to see the celebration. The day began with bands, performances and dance shows, one of the latter of which I was dragged onstage for. I officially apologize to any Malaysians (except you, Heinrich) for butchering your cultural dance forms.

Later into the night the streets crowded with throngs of screaming locals, congregating for the midnight fireworks show. I regularly found myself besieged by the silly string, shaving foam and confetti bombs that were standard fare for revelers. By the time the fireworks actually went off, I was covered in such a thick layer of string and foam that it was clear I'd lost any battle being fought.

Now that things are winding down, I've got a daunting task ahead - a whirlwind tour of Malaysia's highlights to be completed in three days, if I'm to make the infamous Full Moon Party in Thailand on time! Off to see the misty peaks of the Cameron Highlands and the white beaches of the Perhentian Islands, and then north across the border... And awaaaaay we go!

Just Eat It, Lah!

2006-08-28T01:47:00.000+09:00

If there's one thing Singapore has no shortage of, it's cuisine to sample. Blending elements from all the peoples who have settled here, one can walk down the street and encounter Malaysian, Indian, Indonesian, Chinese and any and every fusion possibility in between. I realized early on that my typically picky pallet was going to have to diversify or die.

The solution? A nine hour nonstop food walk with my hostel owner, Tony, and a few other wayward travelers! I don't know what's more sore, my feet or my stomach, after a trek across the entire city, eating anything that came in our path. I realized quickly that I wasn't going to be able to duck out of any new samplings on the grounds of squeamishness after the first cry of 'Just EAT it, lah!*' As a result, I wound up devouring an absurd amount of new things, be they spicy, vegetarian, or any of my other usual enemies. I couldn't possibly name or describe one eighth of what I ate, but I'm relieved to say I enjoyed the great majority. Laksas, kebabs, banana leaves and Muslim pancakes, mangosteens and durians, century egg congees and oyster soups, noodles with cockles and vegetarian gravies, coconut milks and ginger teas, tofu and turnips, and those are the small percentage of items I actually recognized! Oy vey.

Speaking of fusions, anyone who ever has the opportunity to check out the international WOMAD festival should leap at the opportunity. Combining music and dance forms from all over the world, the festival ends with a huge group performance in which the performers all get on stage and jam together in a beautiful, ecclectic mix. You haven't seen blended genres till you've seen a classical Chinese flutist, a Puerto Rican jazz guitarist, a Thai ska trombonist, a Korean percussion drummer, a Jamaican raggae saxiphonist, an Indian tabla player, a South African bongo drummer and an aboriginal dijeridoo player all perform together! Mind blowing stuff.

Alright, I've loved Singapore, but I'm out! Time for my first border crossing... Malaysia, here I come!

* Singaporeans attach the meaningless suffix 'lah' as liberally as Canadians are rumoured to use 'eh'

Safe in Singapore

2006-08-24T12:36:00.000+09:00

I made it! After a sleepless 48 hours of busses, planes and airports, I've arrived in the Lion City, Singapore! It's quite the culture shock, stepping from a country so strictly homogeneous as Korea to one as steadily diverse as this. Muslims, Malays, Indians, Chinese... The population is made up of people from everywhere, including enough Western expats that people scarcely bat an eye as I walk down the street. The diva within me is slowly dying...

The real shock is being back in a culture where English is the dominant language. I need to retrain myself in terms of public speaking, now that people can understand me on the subway and in other public situations.

Time for me to set out with my intrepid amateur tourguide (slash private investigator - neat, huh?) Kareen, to explore some of the ghetto neighbourhoods. Chinatown, Little Italy, Kumpang Glam... So much to see! I'm currently staying in the Malay district, which makes for some interesting fragrances, especially since it's currently the middle of 'Seventh Month', or the Hungry Ghost Festival. Apparently in August the gates of Hell open up beneath Singapore and hungry ghosts fly out, and can be appeased by burning barrels of paper money and huge sticks of powerful insence all day long. Talk about your 'tourist high season' - I've arrived on the Hellmouth!

Oh, and in another twist of perfect timing, I've also arrived during the dual festivals of the Cine SG Asian Film Festival and the WOMAD (World of Music, Art and Dance) International Festival, so I've got plenty of films, performances and exhibits to take in!

Second day, first country... So far, so good.

PS - Kareen somehow talked me into eating vegetarian Indian food, so she deserves your respect.

So Long, Farewell, Annyonghi Gyeseyo!

2006-08-22T02:35:00.000+09:00

Wow. One year.

Forgive me, I'm going to have to wax maudlin for a bit here. It's strange to think of where I was a year ago, sitting awestruck in an empty apartment in South Korea, trying to fathom what possessed me to think I could do this. The country, the language, even the job - I knew nothing about any of it, and I'd committed myself to twelve months. At the time I could scarcely conceive of being where I am now, all packed to leave and looking back on the experience with nothing but fondness.

Granted, the first couple months were a difficult blend of homesickness and second-thoughts, but once I hit my stride, everything got a lot more comfortable. I've met so many wonderful people and learned that I'm capable of more than what I would have once expected. I've thrived outside of the Occidental bubble and my own language, I've pushed myself farther physically than I ever have before, and I've generally gained a greater global perspective.

Even the teaching, which has been both trying and frustrating, has been an ultimately incredibly student. While I might not miss the textbooks and the disciplining, I'll never forget my students, whom I love to death. Saying goodbye to them has been the most difficult of all, especially when they tearfully implore me not to leave. "Teacher, no Canada, please no go!" I'd like to think I taught them better English than that, but it was heartbreaking nonetheless.

Now I sit, my room as empty as it was when I arrived, feeling like a different person entirely. The impending trip across Asia to Europe, which I'd never have considered prior, especially alone, feels like something I can actually accomplish. I'll still be updating the blog as regularly as I can, even though, as you literalists love to point out, I'll be traveling west, just as I technically have been all along.

So, a big 'thanks' to all of you who supported, helped, or just plain paid attention to me over the past year. Having a forum to communicate with those back home certainly helped ease me into living abroad.

Now, I officially re-christen this blog as a travelogue!

BLACK BELT!

2006-08-21T02:39:00.000+09:00

Yes, it's true! After a year of training (preceded by twenty three of boundless slackery) I've managed to achieve my black belt in the art of hapkido.

Due to some reshuffling this month, my dojung's testing period was moved till after I leave, and so I had to perform my test in Gumi, the next city over. It's really just a small town, and thus the shock and awe of seeing a foreigner was doubled, then tripled when it got out that I was there for hapkido. The dojung crammed full of spectators as I squared off with my patient opponent/trainer Ji Han, significantly amplifying the already-considerable pressure. I was so nervous there were a couple mistakes, but for the most part I managed to pull off all of my maneuvers and complete the test to an apparently satisfactory degree.

And now I have a black belt! It even has my name on it, though it was sewed on in the Korean style, and thus belongs to someone named 'West Ryan'. It really is an amazing feeling, particularly since I never would have thought myself capable of this a year ago. Even when I began training, I set my sights on red belt as the ultimate goal, and never would have expected to go the full distance. I feel more confident, I'm in better shape than I've ever been, and I've got a snazzy new monogrammed waist accessory!

As an amusing side anecdote, following my test I was unexpectedly whisked off to a late lunch with my Kwanjunghim ('sensai'). I had thought it would just be us, but when I walked in I found the entire team of High Masters from the Jeong Do Kwan Association assembled. Apparently, Kwanjungnim had been invited and I was just along for the ride. I can't begin to describe how intimidating the experience was; I was eating lunch with about twenty men who could likely kill me by looking at me hard enough.

Now, Korean culture is riddled with Confucian rules of social etiquette that I was worried about when I first arrived, but soon found to not apply in most modern situations. Of course, now I suddenly found myself in a situation in which it was explicitly necessary, as every man at the table outranked me in terms of age, social standing, financial status, and of course, training level. Some were dour, some were amiable, but none spoke a word of English and I couldn't tell how they felt about my unexpectedly crashing their party. I sat quietly, trying desperately to remember the 'rules' (never pour your own drink, never face someone while swallowing, never eat before those who outrank you, and so forth and so on) and generally avoiding eye contact. I ended up burning my tongue so bad it bled simply because I was too nervous to do anything but kowtow and acquiesce when offered scalding hot soup.

So there's a dose of humility to balance out any swelling my head has done regarding the black belt thing. The further tragedy is that I have to immediately pack my new belt, rather than monopolizing on the benefits that would come with it (re: I would finally be able to train with nunchuks!)

The River Placid

2006-08-14T02:54:00.000+09:00

This past weekend I joined several of my coworkers in an expedition north, into the lovely mountains of Soraksen. The goal was to tackle the raging rivers of Korea, armed with nothing more than a raft, a paddle, and my characteristic nerves of steel. The province boasted itself as the adventure sports capital of Korea, so I figured we were in for a rip roarin' good time!

Silly me, of course. While suiting up alongside little old ajumas and screaming children, I began to suspect I wasn't exactly facing the rapids of legend. Probably for the best, since every one of my Korean coworkers made me promise to rescue them if they fell out. Suspicions proved correct as we set out to drift down the tranquil river, punctuated occasionally by a few bumps.

Still, the experience was delightful, as it afforded me a firsthand view of the beauty that Korean landscape could offer, which I guiltily admit I hadn't made much of an effort to take in prior. I was stunned, especially having gone a bit north, at how easily the Korean mountains and valleys could double for interior BC, if not quite the Rockies.

What the day lacked in genuine thrills it made up for in relaxed cruising and wet fun, as we took advantage of the serene waters by jumping in at any point we could. There was plenty of splashing, rocking, pushing, jumping, and general cavorting that tended to end with me doggedly swimming after flailing Koreans as they slowly drifted away. There are some pics up on the Flickr.

At the end of the line we were treated to another experience which I'd somehow not indulged in till now - the Korean jimjilbang, or public sauna. The basic premise is stripping down and enjoying a good soak with a horde of staring, naked Korean men - which might account for why I'd managed to avoid it till now. Refreshing, if you can get used to being a very awkward centerpiece of attention. Not surprisingly, there are no pics from this leg of the journey.

Audios Hombres!

2006-08-14T02:25:00.000+09:00

Richard has left Korea, bound for a week in Cambodia before, hopefully, heading home - as long as Singapore Air manages to fanangle him a flight sometime earlier than September. Treat him nice when he gets back - Korea nearly destroyed him!

Significantly more important, though, is that a couple other boys have likewise scurried out of my life. In my ongoing effort to tie up loose ends in preparation for my own impending departure, I had to find a new home for Hawkeye and Trapper. They've now been sent off to live with the animal-loving Jenny B, complete with new names: Lil' Ryan and Lil' Richard. Good luck, boys - you'll probably fare better living with a vegetarian, no longer dealing with the constant possibility of being eaten when food got scarce. Yeah, it was always in the back of our minds...

A View From the Podium

2006-08-08T01:27:00.000+09:00

This past weekend I finally competed in the Wu Shu tournament I had been signed up for, along with competetors from all the hapkido dojos in my province. The tournament consisted of two divisions, one for combat (which was similar to Muy Thai kickboxing) and one for forms, which is like choreographed Kung Fu maneuvers performed as a team. Luckily, I was in the latter, given some of the brutal beatings I witnessed meted out to those in the former!

Point being, after a performance that went by like a blur, we were given a score of 8.5, which didn't seem all that high to me. However, either ranking systems are different or they're a lot pickier than the Olympics, because we managed to nab first place nonetheless! Booya! Gold medal and all! Which is a rather big deal to me, seeing as how I haven't won anything regarding physical activity since elementary school sports days, and even then I was flying the 'Most Sportsmanlike' ribbons.

That's my tale of victory! Next stop, black belt test in two weeks...

Cuisine a la Canine

2006-08-03T00:13:00.000+09:00

Yes, it's true - they eat dogs in Korea. 'Bosintang' is basically dog soup, with bits of dog meat cooked in a light broth and seasoned with onion, garlic, salts and ginger. The breed of dog used is indiginously Korean and is not a so-called 'pet' breed. The soup is generally regarded more as a medicinal tonic than a food, used in times of extreme heat or to improve a man's verility.

Not all Koreans eat it, mind you - I'll dispell the typecast immediately that it's the equivalent of Tuesday night meatloaf. In fact, many Koreans are uncomfortable with or embarrassed by the idea. Still, it has deep cultural and historical roots in the country, with evidence of consumption going back as far as the neolithic era. It can be acquired freely, though restaurants only advertise discreetly if they prepare it. It is technically illegal after legislation pushed through during the Seoul Olympics to avoid international scorn, but the law isn't enforced. There's a movement currently to make it legalized, so that breeding and preparation can be made more humane through standardization.

And I tried it.

Yes, yes, I know - it's a horrific idea to eat a dog. But before you lambast me too energetically, know that the choice to do so was after a year of personal and external debate on the subject. I love dogs as much as the next guy, but at the same time I am a staunch and unapologetic carnivore, and I realized that the sentimentality that prevented me from acknowledging dogs as a possible meat source is intrinsically cultural. The line we draw between 'food' and 'work' animals, especially pet animals, is entirely arbitrary, and while understandable (some animals are just more loveable than others!) it would be ethnocentric of me to believe the standards set in my culture are inherently superior.

At least, that's what Dennis and I were saying when a steaming bowl of bosintang was set down in front of us in the small, discreet shop down the road from our school. The ajuma (re: middle aged woman) who served us walked us through the preparation process with impressive patience, showing us how to mix in the spices for the best taste. Then, with uncertain looks, we dug in.

(If you're bothered by this already, you may not want to read further)

The verdict? Dog is much better than I expected, and I admit this begrudgingly. I was expecting something tough and sinewy, but it was in fact quite soft and yielding, with a texture remarkably similar to lamb. The taste itself was quite bland, lost to the stewed spices. The only drawback was a prevalence of squishy fat, but no more so than with any other sort of meat. One thing's for certain: I don't feel more verile.

Would I eat it again? Possibly. Will I? No, I don't think so. The flagship sampling was done in the name of ethnological open-mindedness and experimentation, but I don't think I'm quite comfortable enough to make canine a part of my regular diet. I now open the floor to criticisms, debate, or renunciations...

But Is It Kosher?

2006-08-03T00:00:00.000+09:00

I'd like to introduce you all to the newest product offered from the Korean branch of Domino's: Jewish Pizza!

I really have no clue if this is an innocent coincidence or if the Star of David found upon this delicious-looking pie is an intentional Judaic overtone. What's next - bisected hot dog crucifixes? Ankh-shaped buffalo wings? Beef-free Muslimburgers? When will the fast food industry stop trying to force it's religion upon me!?

Seriously though, pizzas here are odd. Best case scenario you get a sprinkling of corn as a topping; worst you get whole chestnuts.

Hattu Trickku

2006-08-01T00:45:00.000+09:00

Last weekend Richard, Jocelle and I enjoyed our (abysmally short) Summer Vacation by doing a short trip across the sea to Fukuoka in Japan. Yeah, again - what can I say, I absolutely love the country! The sunny weather was a gorgeous respite from the past several weeks of rainy season here, the food was great, the beer divine, the people varied and subculture elements not only present, but vibrant! Sure, everything cost an arm and a leg, but it was a small price to pay. No pun intended.

We were joined by our Daeguite pal, Dan, as well as Marlee, my Fukuokan tourguide from New Years. We spent a couple days gorging on sushi (after years of resisting the Vancouverite stereotype, I guiltily admit I'm finally a fan of the rawness), touring temples, worshipping Sopporo and going blind in epileptic gaming complexes. We danced till dawn and watched the sun come up on the beach.

I'm really going to miss being able to do these weekend runs to Japan. One can't help but admire the unapologetic kitsch of the country's pop culture; the glitz and the frenetic energy of it all. Where else could Richard and I have a debate about whether an ambiguous 'toy' shop was selling children's playthings or adult erotica and BOTH be right?

Pics up on Flickr.

DDR Revisited

2006-08-01T00:37:00.000+09:00

At the request of Mr. Pruger, I snapped a quick vid of some Korean clubbers doing their Dance Dance Revolution thang at a local nightclub. The song is one of the more predictable ones, but you get the idea - it would be a bit more entertaining if they at least did it with more enthusiasm! Who's ever heard of blase line dancing?

Cha Cha Real Smooth!

Around the World in 80 Days

2006-07-22T17:32:00.000+09:00

The end is nigh, my friends! I have naught but a single month left on my tenure here in the Republic of Korea, and shall soon be liberated from my contract. It's certainly strange to think that nearly a year has passed since I first arrived, wide-eyed and terrified, in this country. I'll save the heavy waxing sentimental for the actual departure post - this entry is meant to make you all privvy to the post-Korea plans I've been formulating.

I've known since I first arrived on a one-way ticket that I wanted to do some further travel after I finished my time here, though specifics had been blurry. The notions of Southeast Asia and/or Australia were kicked around, but nothing began to take shape until I received a tantalizing invitation to visit Ashleigh in the South of France, where she'll be teaching come Fall. Of course, tempting as it was, I had little interest in flying all the way home and then back to Europe... If only there were some alternative!

Yes, Sirs and Madames, I have decided to embark upon a proper globe-circling trip around the world. On August 23rd I will be flying to Singapore, and from there traveling by land North through Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam into China. From China I'll either set off on the Silk Route through Khazakstan or the Trans-Siberian Railway through Mongolia, either way ending up ultimately in Moscow. After that it's an as-yet-undecided route south through Eastern Europe, eventually jumping over to the Mediterranean coast to kill my last few days - and recoup - on a placid French beach.

Of course, because I can't resist a good literary reference, my goal is to do the whole trip in 80 days. Why? Because Jules Verne said so (and because I doubt I could afford anything more). This sets my return objective at November 11th, so if you see me crawling into town anytime after this date, feel free to ridicule me as a failure. (You literalists who are quick to point out that, technically, I'm going around the world in one year and 80 days - well, you can keep your commentary in the peanut gallery, thank you very much.)

As a disclaimer, I'd like to point out that the entirety of this trip is still technically speculation, as the only concrete booking I have is my flight to Singapore, and after that it's all by the seat of my pants. Plans may change, disasters may strike, indiginous cannibalistic mountain tribesmen may kidnap. Still, if you have any experience in any of the above fields and would like to chime in with tips, warnings or general two-centedness, please do. Similarly, if by change you're planning to be in any similiar region at any corresponding time, let me know and we'll see if you can endure my travel-stink over a drink.

That's the forecast! Let the betting pool on how far I'll actually make it commence - I've got $20 on being eaten by an orangutan in Malaysia.

Impulse Hamsters!

2006-07-21T01:35:00.000+09:00

So, Richard and I were down at the local shopping mart the other day, meandering through the pet section, when a particular bargain banner caught our collective eye. DWARF HAMSTERS: $3 EACH!

Now, I'm not really much one for impulse buys, but one look at the cuddly little critters and we could hardly say no. Besides, I've been taking care of Richard for going on six months now - I figure I'm about ready to move on to small rodents. After a whole minute of serious debate, we each picked a furry little fellow and packed them on home to set up in the spacious, defunct octagonal aquarium that came with our apartment.

Of course, one hour later and we realize the life expectancy of hamsters in two years, and we've barely a month left in this country. Luckily we've got several people eager to take them from our hands or, failing that, extremely lax importation laws past the Canadian border!

So, to summarize: we have hamsters. Say hello to Hawkeye and Trapper.

Skincare Made Fun

2006-07-17T18:04:00.000+09:00

This weekend was the ninth annual Boryeong Mud Festival on the west coast, celebrating the small town's rich deposits of skin-cleansing cosmetic mud. What began as a small event meant to draw attention to the cosmetic products produced locally has grown into a huge festival, drawing what appear to be equal numbers of foreigners and Koreans from all across the country. People flock to the beautiful beach, as well as to take part in the numerous mud-based events, from mud wrestling, mud sliding, mud baseball, mud obstacle courses, and so forth and so on.

Naturally, I couldn't resist such a spectacle. I piled on a bus full of hordes of excited Daegu-ites and shipped myself west to partake in the festivities. Through sheer luck the recent rainy-season weather broke and gave us some blissful coastal sunshine with which to enjoy the picturesque town. The weekend was spent getting myself covered from head to toe in mud, then running into the waves of the Yellow Sea to wash it off. Rinse and repeat!

Even I must admit, even though I'd gone primarily for the fun of slipping and sliding, the actual effects of the mud are undeniable! My skin has never spent so smooth, nor have I ever had quite so much fun caring for it. Mud wrestling for softer skin - who'd have seen that one coming?

Unfortunately the festivities were not condusive to toting a camera around, so there aren't too many snapshots of the mayhem - which is a shame, since it's quite a sight to see hundreds of people covered completely in greyish mud. All I can say is, if anyone happens to find themselves in South Korea in mid July, don't miss out on this one!

Fists of Fury

2006-07-14T21:36:00.000+09:00

Time for another update regarding my foray into the world of martial arts - and, consequently, my life goal of becoming Batman. Those of you who don't know me all that well probably think I'm kidding.

Brown belt: accomplished! I successfully completed the training for my brown level, which means that I'm currently training vigorously for the next level: black. Yep, I'm actually doing it. I hadn't even considered going this far when I first tentatively signed up, but I admit it's become a huge part of my Korean experience, and an integral part of my daily routine. Who knew exercise actually felt good when done regularly?

Unfortunately my departure deadline seriously cuts into the usual length of black belt training, so there's been a lot of rigorous double-time in the schedule. Still, some training is being sacrificed, which made me uncomfortable. Until my master came to me with an idea about how to suppliment my training. The conversation went as follows (I apologize for the grammatical liberties I take with his accent):

Him: Ryan! Good idea!
Me: What's that?
Him: I sign you up for Wu Shu kickboxing tournament.
Me: Are you kidding? No, I don't think that's a good idea.
Him: Oh. My English mistake. I signed you up.
Me: What!?
Him: Yes. It in three weeks. We train for belt and Wu Shu!
Me: I dunno...
Him: I believe you can do it.
Me: Really?
Him: Yes. You can. I know.
Me: Well, alright...
Him: Good. Oh. And Ryan?
Me: Yes?
Him: If you no get gold medal? We go outside... (here his English failed him, so he used pantomime to communicate him energetically beating me with a gumdo stick)

So, yeah. I'm now doing dual training in black level Hapkido and Chinese Taolu Wu Shu. At least I'm not doing actual combat in the latter, but rather demonstrative form techniques. At least I'll feel that I earned my belt. Or, failing that, irrevocably harm myself. Wish me luck, in whichever of the two fates befits your opinion of me!

Here's some very belated videos from the brown belt test last month:

Part 1
Part 2

The proverbial mad props to my partner Kim Young Moon, for making me look halfway decent.

But I Hardly Know You...

2006-07-10T02:20:00.000+09:00

All I can say is, the Korean promotional team for Jack Daniels REALLY needs to rethink their slogan. Seriously.

(Click the image to enlarge it)

Happy Canada Day!

2006-07-03T02:34:00.000+09:00

A big ol' Happy Canada Day to all you folks back home, and all you other canucks abroad!

Lucky for me, there are enough Canadians over here in Korea that I didn't have to worry about being alone on this patriotic holiday. In fact, the Canadian embassy in Seoul put together a big outdoor barbaque and party to celebrate the day, which was a wonderful experience. There was wonderful sunshine, a (French) Canadian band, and of course, all the Molson we could drink!

Marking this occasion was the third international appearance of Captain Canuck, embodiment of the Canadian spirit! In 2004 he was spotted handing out free beer in Frieberg, Germany, and in 2005 leading crowds in confused Canadian anthems on the beaches of San Diego, USA. Granted this year he was a couple inches shorter and more handsome than previous incarnations, but the spirit remained the same. Notice him below, lending his mighty one-armed strength to a West vs. East coast tug-of-war. West was triumphant, of course!

More pics on the Flickr.

Cheap AND Thrilling

2006-07-03T02:13:00.000+09:00

Last weekend I went bungee jumping. I leapt from a 45 meter crane over a five-meter deep lake. It was an exhilirating feeling. And it only cost me 25 bucks! Discount bungee jumping - now that's being a smart consumer!

The Power of the Definite Article

2006-07-03T02:04:00.000+09:00

It's like I keep telling my students: always remember your definite articles! Without them, the entire meaning of a sentence can change! Take, for instance, this flyer advertising a night of female DJing. See if you can guess where a 'the' should have been strategically placed for a more appropriate meaning...

Fun With Watermelons

2006-07-03T01:54:00.000+09:00

Our landlord stopped by to give us a watermelon today - I imagine it was a gift, but since he doesn't speak a word of English, our exchanges are essentially me opening the door, him shoving a watermelon into my hands, and walking off. Of course, watermelons are messy and difficult to cut up, so I went with the most obvious alternative use: painted the face of a screaming baby on it and chased Richard around claiming it was his illegitimate lovechild.

"WHY WON'T YOU LOOK AT YOUR BABY, RICHARD!? IT JUST WANTS YOUR LOVE! LOVE IT!"

It's really a shame sometimes that our neighbours don't understand English.

Mortal Enemies

2006-07-03T01:44:00.000+09:00

Meet two of my new students, whom I named Clark and Lex. They don't seem to realize the significance, but with the movie out this weekend, I'm wondering if they'll figure it out. Then they may understand why I'm trying so hard to make them hate each other. And why I'm teaching them phrases like, 'You'll never get away with this, Luthor!'

And yet it's still better than another teacher who, on a bored, impish day, named an entirely class after fish. Little Seabass is adorable...

His and Hers

2006-06-27T22:50:00.000+09:00

In Korea, the act of couples coordinating their wardrobe is not reserved exclusively for the elderly in jogging suits (as, in my humble opinion, it should be). Rather, the most popular way of demonstrating public affection (since the more obvious ones are grandois faux pas here) is to buy matching outfits to strut around town in. It's more than a little eerie, walking down the streets amidst a horde of like-clad duos - like Noah's Ark for fashionistas.

Less unsettling, but equally as cheesy, are the outfits specifically designed to compliment each other, such as the inexplicably popular 'This is my boyfriend' and 'This is my girlfriend' set, with arrows a la 'I'm with stupid'. The overwhelming, heavy-handed cheeziness of such outfits are offset by the amazing inability of Korean couples to even walk on the right darn sides of each other. Arrows constantly point off, aimlessly, tagging random passers-by and dragging them unexpectedly and unknowingly into the midst of a wardrobe-dictated relationship. Here's a slightly theatrical spin on the phenomenon:

In case you can't make out the text, they read 'This is my Romeo' and 'Juliet', though from the positioning, it seems as though these star-crossed lovers are quarreling. Of course, that just leaves the field open for us opportunistic Princes and Roselyns to swoop in and steal some hearts, as is illustrated in the following:

I've been dying to do that for months. And it's so apropros! Mistaken identities! The confusion of gender roles! Actual irony! It truly IS Shakespearean! And for the curious, no, they had no idea we were taking the picture.

Dae Han Min Geuk!

2006-06-15T02:29:00.000+09:00

The World Cup is upon us! And that's pretty darn huge in a country as soccer-obsessed as Korea. National pride is swelling to a fever pitch at the prospect of taking the cup, even if the closest Korea's come thus far was fourth place in 2002 (a monumentous event still fresh in every Korean's mind!).

For the flagship game, I joined hundreds of thousands of Koreans in the largest intersection in the city, to watch the game on the three big screens and scream myself hoarse. It was a sea of red shirts and glowing devil horns (the mascot figure is Bulgeunakma, or Red Devil) as people got ready to cheer their team. For fear of standing out, we got fully decked out in supportive togs to lend our support to our adoptive country. We even learned a few of the chants, even if our inflection was a bit off.

The game was exciting, with raucous celebration at each goal. Things kicked into overdrive when the game ended with a score of 2-1 for Korea; WE WON! The crowd went crazy, with fireworks, dancing, singing, the works. The issue of foreigner celebrity kicked in hard as well, and I spent a good half hour shaking hands, high fiving, dancing and hugging total strangers, who wanted to congratulate me for siding with a winning team.

Of course, I didn't get half as much attention as my friend Nate, who trumped us all by actually shaving the Korean flag into the back of his head. He was followed everywhere by an entourage of amazed admirers trying to get pictures, and nearly started a riot when the entire crowd decided to try and rub his hair at the same time.

At one point, while celebrating rather openly with a bottle of dyed-red vodka, we were spotted by a troupe of riot cops. I got pretty nervous when they marched over, only to have them look me in the eye, shout 'Go Korea!' and enthusiastically shake my hand.

When the immediately revelry began to die down, I found myself trapped between several groups of Koreans pulling me in different directions for post-game celebrations. Everyone wanted a foreign mascot along for the ride! I was eventually strongarmed into a car by a bunch of cheering university students (who spoke not a word of English) and whisked off for galbi and soju. It was a bit overwhelming, especially with the mix the standard known English and Korean ideas of appropriate touching. Imagine random guys running up, grabbing your hand (interlaced finger-style) and cheerfully shouting, "Hello! You are handsome! Lets go! Victory Korea!" I don't think I'll ever get used to the matter of platonic male-on-male hand holding...

Just think of what it'll be like if we get to the finals. Dare to dream! FIGHTING KOREA! ('Fighting' has been adopted as a Korean means of saying 'Go team', despite grammatical inaccuracy)

Here's some vids of the celebration:

Cheering during the game.

Victory! Jo's View

Victory! My View

Fauxhawk!

2006-06-14T15:03:00.000+09:00

Richard has a fauxhawk now! I thought this worth mentioning. After no small amount of confusion trying to communicate his desired style to the hairdresser, they finally managed to agree on a single word: Beckham.

It folds down for a far more disarming 'do when teaching, of course.

Neighbours to the North

2006-06-13T01:48:00.000+09:00

Curses, the American standard of English here is getting to me - I caught myself writing 'neighbor' in that title. The point of the phrase was to draw attention to the disparity between it's connotation back home and here; back home it denotes us harmless, cuddly Canadians, whereas here it takes on a slightly more sinister undertone.

Yes, I speak, finally, after ten months, on North Korea. My general avoidance of the sticky topic is entirely fitting, given that it's standard local etiquette. In Korea, one does everything one can to avoid making any direct references to, or aknowledgements of, the split in the country. Many consider Korea to still be one whole entity, simply with some 'disagreements' between the halfs of the composite whole. The Korean world map on my wall, for example, printed 2006, marks no border.

Living here, it would be easy to forget the whole debacle, if not for the prevalence of boorish American soldiers, or the occasional (and, might I add, delightful) early morning air raid siren test runs. North Korea's strict policy of isolation makes it even easier to overlook, aside from the furtive rumours of poverty, rampant starvation and citizens eating bark that trickle south.

A while back, Richard and I headed north to get as close to the actual border as we could. We signed ourselves on to a tour with the American military that would take us to the Demilitarized Zone, or DMZ, that runs between the two Koreas. This arbitrary border that cut many Koreans off from their own families runs from west coast to east, several miles north of Seoul. It is chiefly unpopulated and monitered closely on both sides. We specifically visited the area called Panmunjeon, the only section of the border where the two Koreas connect.

While I had my fears that a tour run by the American military could be just a tad biased, I have to admit it was by and large an impressive and impartial trip. We were taken right up into the 'zone' itself, as far as the central border. The negotiations house stands right on the line, drawn so strictly that it actually runs down the center of the negotiations table. Walking around the table (under the unwavering, intimidating eye of aviator-clad R.O.K. soldiers) I technically crossed into the North Korea zone for several minutes. We were recommended to avoid eye contact or any sort of recognizable gestures towards the North Koreans on the opposing outpost.

Not to make light of a serious and tragic political situation, but one can't help but acknowledge the overt childishness evident around the borderlands. The petty one-upsmanship isn't even discreet - if South Korea renovates their border patrol building, North Korea adds a floor to theirs to ensure it is still tallest. North Korea even built an entire town, just within eyesight of the border, to give the impression of a thriving community - even if the actual town is completely empty and entirely for show. Or rather, not entirely empty - there is a small caretaking staff charged with turning all the lights on and off to simulate life. This is refered to as the 'Propaganda Village'.

You'll also notice in the picture a rather epic flagpole. This was, of course, built in response to the building of a South Korean flagpole. North Korea got a bit overzealous in their effort to trump their neighbours, building it at 160 meters tall - the tallest in the world. The flag atop it is so heavy that it must be instantly taken down at signs of rain, for when wet the pole can't support it. Up until two years ago enormous speakers built into the surrounding hills blasted North Korean propaganda into the south up to 20 hours a day. South Korea retaliated by blaring Korean pop music back at them.

Crossing the border, of course, is strictly forbidden. On occasion North Koreans have been known to run for the border in an effort of defection. Ever since, North Korean soldiers are ordered to stand back to back, so that defectors cannot sneak past them. Defectors are to be shot on sight (they opened fire on the last attempt, though he managed to make the charge successfully).

In 1974 a series of tunnels were discovered burrowing under the border from North Korea, aimed at Seoul. The passageways extended 3.5 kilometers past the DMZ and were designed for the quick transport of military forces. Tunnels have been discovered as recently as 1990.

Despite the occasional sign of goodwill, such as the two Koreas entering together at the Olympics, it is apparent that the actual repatriation of the two Koreas is still a long time coming. There is a good deal of pride and ego at work from both sides that has to be overcome for steps to be taken towards the abolation of the DMZ border.

Summer Shenanigans

2006-05-30T02:03:00.000+09:00

Richard and I got tired of complaining about the steadily mounting heat and humidity of the infamous Korean summer, and we decided to do something about it. What something, you ask? Why, a fully loaded rooftop pool party, of course! The only evident snag in our otherwise (and undeniably) genius plan was, of course, that while we do have a rather large and scenic roof, there is actually no pool thereon.

The solution? A quick trip to Costco and a $20 inflatible kiddie pool! Throw into the mix a cheap blender, a keg of Becks, a cooler full of Corona on ice, a grill and several water guns, and we managed to improvise a rather successful homage to summer parties back home. We even attempted a vodkamelon, though in the absence of actual vodka, we had to make do with our now-trademarked 'sojumelon'.

Of course, as chance would have it, the day of our shindig also turned out to be the day the heavens finally took mercy on our sweltering, misbegotten hides and granted us a bit of gloomy cloud cover. Just our luck, eh? Still, props go to the stalwart troopers we call friends for making the best of overcast weather and showing up to get soaked with gusto. For pics of the mayhem, check the Flickr.

Be it noted that pesky Korean neighbours called the cops on us not once, but twice. The absurdity of the situation being that both instanced were before six in the evening, and the second time they told us to turn our music down, we didn't even have music playing. I'm truly baffled by how we could represent such outright unacceptable noise polution in a country that has vendors (and political candidates - see below) blasting loudspeakers from sunup to sundown. Of course, the irritability of my neighbours wasn't universal - there were some more tolerant ones who watched with a mix of amusement and disbelief from their own roofs as we spashed, wrestled and cavorted, like some animals in the zoo. I trust we put on an enjoyable foreigner spectacle.

Dance Dance Democracy!

2006-05-30T01:38:00.000+09:00

It's election time in Korea, as you can tell from all the dancing.

Whoa now, dancing you say? Since when does political campaigning have anything to do with shaking your boo-tay, you ask? Well, I myself was voicing the same queries not long ago, when this gubernatorial grooving first started up. And frankly, despite all my questions, I still don't have a single answer to show for it.

The scene is thus: the bulk of campaigning is done in the form of the hopeful official walking or driving down the street, followed by a small horde of his supporters dancing rhythmlessly to Korean pop music in his wake. Often the horrific gyrating is done on the back of trucks, which roam the neighbourhoods blaring tunes from loudspeakers. Said dancers are not, unfortunately, hired professionals (see footnote 1 - yes, I have footnotes now) but usually 'ajumas' (re: middle-aged women) clad in baggy t-shirts of party colors. Oftentimes there are efforts to get the crowds of bystanders to dance along, and given Korea's unhealthy obsession with Dance Dance Revolution (see footnote 2), such efforts are rarely unsuccessful.

I've been trying to get to the root of this phenomenon, but Koreans are baffled by my confusion, unable to grasp why I would find such an approach to campaigning unusual. Curse my ethnocentricism. I postulate that I'm particularly perplexed by such prancing politics because party platforms have not been put into my personal patois. That is to say, I don't know what anyone stands for politically, so were I to have to choose a candidate, I'd have to base my selection entirely on whose supporters got the most jiggy with it. Of course, that only raises further complications - do you judge by skill, passion, coordination? Personally, I don't want anyone running my country who can't somewhat successfully get down to 'My Humps'.

Here's a video example, although this candidate had the most capable dancers so far. If you look closely you can see the bystanders getting into the spirit of things in the foreground.

Behold, footnotes!

Footnote 1: Public dancing is not at all unusual in Korea, for it is the most common way to open a business. One can always tell when a new establishment has opened in one's 'hood, for there is invariably a pair of scantily-clad go-go dancers on podiums in front of it, gyrating from dusk till dawn. In all fairness, it never fails to draw my attention.

Footnote 2: To view the DDR obsession, all one must do is sample a Korean dance club. Every so often a song comes on that is used in the game, and thus, includes a set of coordinated foot movements known to all. Try to imagine an entire club doing choreographed hip hop moves in line dancing style. Truly unbelievable.

The Big 50

2006-05-22T03:15:00.000+09:00

It's true - since my departure from the homeland, I have indulged in a total of fifty of these nacissistic blog posts! More than I had expected to make in total, let alone by month nine. I suppose this counts as an anniversary on some bizarre level, and I choose to celebrate it by asking anyone who actually reads this thing to post a comment to this post - just so I have an idea of who, if anyone, is actually reading these things! Gotta tailor my material to my audience, after all.

Oh, and this post wasn't entirely self-actualizing - there is a reason for my making it aside from to just push myself to fifty. After several hours spent seething with rage over Flickr's ongoing spat with my internet server here, I finally managed to get all of my photos from the past few weeks online. Because I've never been able to decide in which chronological direction to upload photos, here's a heads up - this time they're in reverse, so if you want to view things in order, they start on page 7 with the photo 'Border Table' from the DMZ (on which I hope to do a post soon) and work backwards towards the most recent. What follows is our route through Seoul, Daegu, Pusan, Fukuoka, Hiroshima, Miyajima, Kyoto and Tokyo. Please enjoy responsibly.

Hooray! Fifty! I think...

Addendum: I've uploaded a video of the sumo wrestlers doing their thing, so enjoy!

Jiggity Jig

2006-05-16T01:21:00.000+09:00

The Japanese escapades have come to a close, and I am once again home in Korea. I have to say, having come from a country as evidently on-the-ball as Japan, it's been a bit of an eye-opener as to how Korea is somewhat dragging its heels around the bottom end of the 'First World Country' category. True, they have a stable economy and a strong investment in technological advancements, but there's a lot to be said for general urban and rural cleanliness, as well as quality of living (oh, to not have to manually turn on my hot water heater every morning!).

The main update I returned to was that Richard had been hospitalized with pneumonia in my absence. I knew leaving him untended was a bad idea. He'd attempted to go camping on the weekend and met with heavy rain, which his notoriously poor constitution reacted negatively too. He's feeling better now, but he's stuck in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV till Wednesday, with a hospital staff who's tenuous grasp of English leads to helpful notes like 'tomorrow you get thick needle'. That's bedside manner!

Luckily, my much-dreaded return to work was made mildly more palatable by the fact that it fell on Teacher's Day, which meant more gosh-darn presents than I get on my birthday! I'm practically swimming in socks, gift certificates, confections and Body Shop paraphernalia! Heck, I think we should have one of these beauties a month - nay, a week!

Still working on those pics - patience and virtue, kids.

Oh, and a big ol' CONGRATS to Team Ezekiel 25:17 for kicking touche in this year's City Chase Vancouver! Wish I could'a been there, boys.

Tokyo Pop

2006-05-13T23:39:00.000+09:00

We are now on the last leg of our journey, currently cooling our heels in the hyper-neon hub of Tokyo. Kyoto was beautiful, particularly the neighbourhood of Gion, which some pay recognize as the setting from Memoirs of a Geisha. Amazingly, the neighbourhood has been largely preserved in the same form as it was a century ago, its green hills dotted with bamboo tea houses and sculpted gardens, where one can occasionally glimpse actual white-faced geishas shuffling from one appointment to another.

Now we're in Tokyo, which fully lives up to its reputation as a hyperactive, futuristic mecca of bizarre fashion and glaring lights. The streets are crammed shoulder to shoulder with a jarring mix of black suited salarymen and babyd0ll-esque harajuku girls. With it's endless sprawl of highrises, urban centers and multi-layered pedestrian overpasses, I naturally love it.

Yesterday Jordan and I did some cultural exploration by nabbing tickets to the big sumo competition currently taking place. We spent a few hours placing bets on which rotund warrior will be the first to hundred-palm slap his opponent out of the ring. I think we had more fun just naming our choices, from 'Frank' to 'Honda' to 'Betty'.

Further explorations have yielded a sampling of traditional kabuki theater, as well as countless hours lost in the ultra-trendy shopping hubs of Ginza, Shabuya and Shinjuku. It's all like something out of an anime feature, and not a moment passes when I don't expect Godzilla to come crashing around the corner chased by the cybercops from Ghost in the Shell.

Tomorrow it's back to the crush of daily teaching, though I do admit I quite miss (some of) my kids. The pics and such will be up in a few days, once clothes have been washed, work caught up on, and Richard re-housetrained.

Arigato and sayonara!

From the Road

2006-05-09T17:34:00.000+09:00

Seven minutes to write a post! A true test of my skills...

We moved up from Fukuoka to Hiroshima, and thankfully the weather improved with our trip. Hiroshima itself proved to be a lot nicer than I was expecting, with beautiful and poignant monuments to the A-Bomb dropping. For a city that was obliterated, it's greener and lusher than anything I've come across in Korea!

We've been steadily working through the Japanese staples, including a plate of proper raw sashimi. Tried on some samurai armour in Hiroshima castle. Took a ferry to Miyajima island where we were swarmed by large, local domesticated deer that just wander the streets, and regularly bite Jord in the butt. We climbed to the top of Mt. Misan, then spent over two hours fighting our way through the bush, hopelessly lost, in an effort to get back down.

Oh, I must add that in a championship move, this morning Jordan managed to leave his wallet and passport on a public bus, and had to spend a few hours trying to track it down again (which, luckily, he did). A round of applause, if you please!

Now we're in Kyoto, and we're just about to head out to explore. And that about sums it up. Except... I've got three minutes left! Ergo, a haiku:

Japan is lovely,
Really enjoying our time,
Jord is a dumbass.

Just kidding, Mom. We're getting along fine. Peace!

Wests Gone East!

2006-05-06T18:29:00.000+09:00

Okay, a very quick recap: last weekend I was visited by my brother, Jordan, and our friend, Brittney, who flew all the way across the Pacific Ocean to visit lil' ol' me. They spent the week exploring Seoul and Daegu, before the trio of us set off for a week's worth of blissful vacation backpacking across Japan.

This is hopefully the first of a few bulletin reports I'll be able to make from the road, since due to frustrating Japanese keyboards and expensive internet access, I've got to be brief.

We set out a couple days ago for Pusan, South Korea's port city. A couple days were spent there, squandering money in casinos, chilling by the (overcast) beach, taking bay boat tours from crotchety fisherman, and so forth. Highlight thus far was a trip to a firing range with Jordan, where I fired my first gun. Despite a slight distaste for such tesosterone-laden armaments, I admit a certain thrill from cocking my ol' fashioned Smith and Wesson revolver and taking aim. My result? An abyssmal 76% accuracy, while Mr. Cop nailed it with a sterling 94% on his 8mm Beretta. We decided that in a crisis, I'll do hostage negotiations while he covers the firepower.

We left Pusan on a rainy day to be met by equally unpleasant weather in Japan's sister port of Fukuoka, from whence I now write. We were at least delighted with our ryokan, a type of traditional motel with floor mats and teapots, reminiscient of Memoirs of a Geisha. Fingers are crossed for better weather tomorrow, when we head north to Hiroshima.

Yeesh, will you look at that - I can't even be brief when I try. Tune in next time, kids - same Bat time, same Bat channel. Nananananana...

A Tall Guy's Lament

2006-04-27T00:16:00.000+09:00

Alright, so I'm tall.

I mean, I'm not freakishly tall or anything - I'm barely even six foot, which is pretty much par for the course for guys my age back home. Of course, Asia is another story entirely. Here it's enough to classify me as a veritable giant, with the rest of the populace coming up to around my shoulders.

Now, this isn't an entirely negative factor, of course - I have the advantage of never being lost in a crowd, always getting good views, and of course the age-old cliche of being the first to know when it rains. However, such perks no longer balance the pure frustration of living in a land designed for people at least six inches shorter than me.

In case I'm being to subtle, let me spell it out for you: I HIT MY HEAD ON EVERYTHING. Doorways, bus poles, bathroom stalls, street signs, and pretty much anything else that one should be able to walk under without fear of personal injury. My skull is so covered with bumps I'm becoming a phrenologist's nightmare. To the left you can see me standing in front of the back door to our apartment, which I obviously must duck to get through.

I'm sure that some percentage of my woes can just be attributed to a total lack of personal grace, but the fact remains that the spacial awareness I've cultuvated since childhood has suddenly been turned on it's ear. I may be enjoying Asia, but I'll be on the verge of tears of joy the first time I walk through a Western doorway without flinching in expectant paranoia of a cranial collision...

Here's a pic Richard snapped on the subway, while musing on how easy it was to find me in any crowded situation:

Red Victory!

2006-04-27T00:00:00.000+09:00

Success! Though this post is a bit belated, it is to state proudly that I have achieved my red belt in hapkido. Given that red was my personal goal when my meek, fragile self first signed up for martial combat, it's an achievement of extra significance. Everything after this is icing! Very painful icing... I have to do all my pushups on my fingertips now. Here's some videos!

A clip of my technique demonstration.

Breaking some boards - five with a punch, and three with a kick. Not quite as graceful as I'd have hoped, especially since I managed to hit a little girl in the face with my debris. Watch for the guilty reaction...

The testing period also represented the seventh anniversary of my dojung, which is a big number here. As such, my Kwanjungnim had to celebrate with the unusual tradition of breaking the bottoms off glass bottles with his chi. Of course, in this case, 'chi' is the mystical way of referring to air pressure, which he directs into the bottle using the palm of his hand with such force that the bottom, and only the bottom, shatters. Still very impressive - even moreso when his master upstaged him by imploding a bottle just by sticking his finger into it and pulling it out really fast. Perhaps not quite Bruce Lee level theatrics, but amazing party tricks nonetheless!

Scuba & Sharks

2006-04-18T01:21:00.000+09:00

I'm alive!

For all of you out there rolling your eyes and going 'shyeah, big deal, so am I, and you don't hear me bragging about it'... Well, I'll have you know I have a particular reason for being so proud of my continued conscious existence. This past weekend I made my second visit to the Pusan Aquarium, and this time managed to wrangle a spot in the scuba session in the main shark tank.

The tank itself was quite large, and filled with many varieties of super-duper sea life. Aside from the regular assortment of colourful fishies and silver schools, there were a couple of huge sea turtles and stingrays. Of course, these were just proverbial appetizers, as the thrilling main course was the five species of the ocean's deadliest predator also within! There were over a dozen sand tiger sharks, lemon sharks, leopard sharks, white-tipped reef sharks and gully sharks swimming around, waiting for the opportunity to munch upon a particularly tasty, and dare I say, handsome tourist. Naturally, the sharks were more or less domesticated, in that they ate on a regular schedule and thus didn't have much of a 'hunter instinct' to send them after any viable food source. Of course, it didn't help when our dive instructor pointed out that there used to be more species in the tank, but the larger sharks kept eating them...

Oddly enough, the bulk of my paranoia lay more in the fact that I had never scuba dived before, and have a bit of a fear of being underwater. Learning to work the equipment and get used to breathing underwater was very unsettling, and visions of watery graves danced in my head. I took it as a further bad omen that, while putting on my equipment, I cut my finger. My fears about getting into a tank full of sharks with an open wound were only mildly assuaged by the assurance that the sharks 'didn't much care for human blood'.

My heart was in my throat as I descended into the five-meter deep tank, cautiously breathing and trying to keep my balance. Luckily, I was kept calm by the immediate distraction of the enormous viewing window I found myself in front of, with hordes of Koreans jostling to get a picture of the insane foreigner in the shark tank. At this point my natural instincts as a born showboat took hold, and I immediately began dancing, posing, and generally entertaining my admiring fans, before even bothering to turn around and look at the sharks brushing past behind me. Of course, my ego got it's comeuppance when I attempted to blow a kiss to a cute onlooker, forgetting I had my respirator in my mouth and hitting my 'purge' button when I tried to kiss my hand. That gave me a bit of a shock...

When I was finally dragged away from the viewing windows, I found that sharks are just as intimidating up close as one might believe. I swear their tiny brains still derive some sick pleasure from swimming directly towards me, only to turn at the last moment and brush past my frozen body. The next half hour was spent bounding around the floor of the tank in clumsy slow-motion, exploring the nooks and crannies to see what treasures could be found (I refer to shark teeth - there was nary a pirate booty to be found!) and dodging ambivalent-yet-menacing sharks.

Eventually it was time to again ascend to the realm of dry land, which I did readily, though with a far more open mind to the prospect of attempting scuba diving again. A quick limb check proved that the dive had, in fact, been a success, although I'm sorry to say that Richard didn't quite make it out. He didn't get eaten or anything - he just really liked it down there.

Spring Hath Sprung

2006-04-07T01:00:00.000+09:00

Alright, alright, I'm alive! Yeesh, a guy doesn't update for a few weeks and everyone goes looking for a body. It would appear that I'm beginning to show initial signs of blogger malaise, but I'll make an effort to remedy that in the future. All for you, my adoring public. And by that, of course, I mean Mom.

There's precious little to report, in truth, as life has been relatively humdrum - at least, as humdrum as life in a wacky foreign country can be. The most notable update is perhaps one you have already heard about - Spring is here! Generally, I'm not one to pay much notice to these fickle seasonal changes, but Springtime in Korea is infamously lovely, and I'm really quite excited.

Case in point: I'm falling victim to this perculiar Pan-Asiatic obsession with cherry blossoms. Frankly, I've never been much of a fan in the past - they were pretty, sure, but parking anywhere near them back home just meant a good half hour scraping the faux-snow off my windows, with twice the difficulty of the real stuff. However, here it's another story, as I find myself swept up in the general zeitgeist of blossom-oggling.

Last weekend I even went so far as to join a procession heading southward to the seaside village of Jinae, for the annual Cherry Blossom Festival (hey, there was nothing on cable). Aside from swooning over all that pretty nature crap, I also got to see such exotic culinary tidbits as coconut water and whale blubber (I sampled the former, but not the latter).

And for the eerily curious, here's a few 'haircut post' bulletins in point form:

- I purchased a new digital camera (a Canon IXUS 6.0) which, technically, is a belated Christmas present from my parents. Look for a marked improvement in snapshot quality in my Flickr. Thanks Mom and Dad!

- Plans are confirmed for a much-anticipated visit from my wayward brother, Jordan, and my 'godsister', Brittney. They'll be coming to Korea at the end of the month, and then we'll all be off to Japan for a week or so. Stay posted re: antics.

- Defying all reason, Richard is not yet dead. He has, however, started up his own blog at daegudick.blogspot.com and might one day actually get around to putting something in it. He has also embarked upon a 'naturalization' mission for our apartment, beginning with our new houseplant, Wilbur. I have been endeavoring fruitlessly to kill it.

- I have developed an unhealthy addiction to the Korean phenomenon of 'game cafes'; cafes in which you can rent any board game imagineable and just hang out, playing, for as long as you want. All part of my wild n' crazy Korean life.

- Better late than never, I have finally enrolled in Korean language classes, and am arduously trying to correct six months worth of atrocious pronunciation.

(( Blogger is being extremely fickle and won't let me upload pics, so if you want to see some snapshots of the festival, you'll have to check my Flickr manually, you lazy sods. ))

Rucky Charms

2006-03-18T16:21:00.000+09:00

Top o' the morning from the land of the morning calm!

Faith an' Begorra, it's that time of year again - the time when I openly embrace the small eighth of my genetic makeup that descends from the Emerald Isle. Unfortunately, South Korea happens to be one of the least Irish places on Earth, thus making the act of celebration a bit trickier than that which I'm used to. I've never missed the Blarney Stone more...

First point of business was, of course, finding a proper Irish pub. I hadn't expected this to be difficult, given that to date I've never found a city on the planet without an easily accessible Guiness-sellin' watering hole. Alas, I'd overestimated the power of non-European homogeneous society, and wound up having to look good and hard before stumbling across the amusingly-named Irish-Korean hybrid bar O'Kim's. Unfortunately, this turned out to be as big a falsely-advertised disappointment as 'Vancouver Bar', but there were a few other foreigner bars holding proper parties to use as backup plans.

Second order of business were customs in need of observing. Naturally, I spent the day decked out in every scrap of green clothing I own, mercilessly pinching those who hadn't followed the sacred rule. This led to the considerable bewilderment of many Korean coworkers, who had never heard of my alleged holiday, nor it's customs. My students were briefly displeased at being arbitrarily punished for their choices in wardrobe colouring, but seemed to forgive when they discovered they were given free reign to similarly pinch or tickle any other infractors they came across.

Decor was important too, but had to be largely improvised. Without any green facepaint, Richard and I had to improvise by cutting shamrock-shaped patterns out of a roll of green duct tape. Easy to apply, not so much so to remove. Festive drinks were essential as well, but since no bars seemed spirited enough to make with the green beer, we had to track down some ambiguous colouring powder in the local herbal market to add manually. It worked well, though its surprising potency turned many a lip, tongue and tooth vibrantly verdant.

Despite the considerable bit of extra effort it required, St. Paddy's Day was as enjoyable as ever this year. I like to think I played some small part as an edifying cultural missionary this year, enlightening people to worldwide customs... or at least royally pissed them off with my rampant pinching and mangled fake accent. Aye, me Lucky Charms, they're magically delicious...

Blowfish Bonanza

2006-03-09T23:48:00.000+09:00

For those select few of you who actually check up on this thing with any regularity, I apologize for the extended silence of late. With Richard's recent arrival, several going-away parties and the turning of our preschool term (graduation ceremonies, opening ceremonies, new classes, etc) it's been a mite hectic. The most noteworthy update is that my roommate Rob has officially finished his contract, and set off to explore the wild blue yonder of Thailand, thus making way for his replacement, New Rob. AKA Richard.

As his farewell mean, Rob decided that we were to go out for blowfish. Yes, blowfish, the infamous bit of sealife known for it's staggaring lethality when prepared improperly. Like Japan, Korea seems to have taken hold of the absurd notion that something so potentially dangerous makes good eatin'. Of course, not one to be at all ethnocentric, I chose to embrace this lunacy in full.

As it turns out, we didn't die. Furthermore, blowfish is surprisingly delicious, which offers some justification to the obsession with eating it. My party ordered about three times the food we actually required, just so that we could sample the sinister sealife in all it's variations. Blowfish shabu (served in a style similar to Chinese hotpot) is particularly delightful.

So there you go. I tempted fate. I played with fire and danced with the devil. I looked death in the eye, and death blinked. Next stop, running with scissors!

PS - As a completely unrelated footnote, a big ol' congratulations goes out to my brother Jordan, for passing his RCMP acceptance interview last week. One step closer to my inevitable future of spending many a weekend in jail...

PPS - Plenty of new pics up on the Flickr.

The Mosley Cometh

2006-02-25T01:11:00.000+09:00

Richie's here!

That's the lazy bugger, dropping straight off to sleep after arriving tonight. Time for Daegu to learn the true meaning of a little R&R...

Can I get a BOOYA!?

It's absurd the things I get away with teaching these children...

It Matches My Eyes!

2006-02-20T23:26:00.000+09:00

Yes, folks, that's right - I am now the proud recipient of a blue belt in hapkido!

After two months of memorizing techniques and getting thrown around like the proverbial rag doll, I had my test this past weekend, and passed. Gone are the days of the 'gold' belt, long live the Days of Blue! Which, as the title says, match my eyes nicely - although I do admit, the gold one matched my net worth. One step closer to ninjahood!

This time some of the shenanigans were caught on tape. Linked below are two clips of my technique performance, in which I demonstrated some of the maneuvers I'd learned on poor Rob.

Part 1
Part 2

Oh, and to salvage Rob's pride, it should be noted that directly afterwards he tested for, and received his black belt. Here's a bit of his performance proving that, had he wanted to, he could have dropped me like a sack of potatos.

Fun With Language Barriers

2006-02-19T16:37:00.000+09:00

A conversation had with a Korean friend who will soon be visiting Canada:

Me: When you go to Canada, you must eat poutine.
Her: Yes, I love poutine!
Me: Oh, you've had it? Here?
Her: Yes, always.
Me: Seriously? Where?
Her: Everywhere. Make you strong.
Me: Er, poutine? I'm not sure about that...
Her: Yes, healthy!
Me: Say what now?
Her: Meat is important in diet.
Me: But there's no-- Oh. OH! POUtine, not PROtein!

She did, at least, promise to try poutine during her visit. And to eat lots of meat.

'Fourteenth' Fun

2006-02-18T23:04:00.000+09:00

A big ol' Happy Valentine's Day to all y'all back home. How do they celebrate this, the most sacred day of the year, here in faraway Korea? Well, let me tell you how: with CHOCOLATE!

I mean that quite literally, too - not candies, not flowers, not jewelry. Just chocolate. Valentine's Day is the day of Chocolate in adbsurd, copious amounts. Furthermore, custom dictates that on the 14th of February, it is entirely the duty of the female half of the species to shower their better halfs with cocao-based goodness. Consequently, being a lad myself, I enjoyed a veritable goldrush of rich chocolatey goodness - from my students, of course.

Now, before there are too many cries of intolerant sexism, let me set things straight - the tables are turned in full one month from now on March 14th, otherwise known as 'White Day', when it becomes the responsibility of us menfolk to return the favours of anyone who invested chocolate in us. Not in chocolate again, though - for whatever reason, White Day is a day of candy. It's very specific.

And what happens if you're a poor soul who received neither chocolate nor candy on either of these events? Well then, a full month later, on April 14th, aka 'Black Day', it's your day to shine! This is a day for those who didn't receive affections to dress in black, get together, and eat a form of black ramyen soup in a nationwide act of lonely commiseration. Thankfully, I was technically saved from this fate by the small mountain of sugar-filled goodness on my desk.

A most perculiar string of 14ths, wouldn't you say? Well, it doesn't stop there! Oh, not by a longshot! Korea appears to have taken to the concept of Valentine's Day so avidly that they decided simply one day a year that encouraged excessive and required gifting wasn't enough. In fact, the 14th of EVERY month is of some importance to any couple. After April I'm not entirely sure of the order, but I know there's Ring Day, Rose Day, Diary Day, Kiss Day, and a specific day for pretty much anything romantic or thoughtful you could do for a significant other. Naturally, rather than leave such acts to the mercy of romantic caprice, this country has regulated and scheduled it so that it can all be done in tandem. Even Pepero Day, which you may recall from a past post, falls into this cycle.

This is all just further fodder for the bizarre ballet that is Korean relationships. For example, once a couple is 'going steady', it's quite common for them to begin dressing in matching outfits. And I don't mean track suits, here - sweaters, suits, pants, everything. I suppose couples need some way to let people know they're together, since despite Korea's obsession with cutesy affection, kissing in public is considered obscene.

I'm sure I could rant further about this, but I'll spare you all. Just remember, for goodness sake, don't forget Yellow Day on June 14th... Which nobody I ask seems to actually know the purpose for, but we've established that it might have something to do with teddy bears. With all these days, people are bound to get confused over some!

Why I Hate Microsoft

2006-02-13T01:05:00.000+09:00

If I weren't a staunch convert from Windows to Mac already, this pretty much cinched it:

That, my friends, is the Windows error message that we're all painfully familiar with - but delivered through the inconvenient medium of an ATM machine. What do you do when you get to the point where all you need is for the little money door to open up so that you can retrieve your booty, and you get this instead?

Naturally, being in a foreign country and unable to speak to the person on the help line, I was in a bit of a pickle. A half hour of headaches, mediators and a completely disassembled ATM, and I finally got my money, but I'm thoroughly reminded of the instability of the Windows platform. Next time I'm sure it'll be the Blue Screen of Death while trying to wire money home...

Wo Shi Ge Lihai Xingshen!

2006-02-13T01:04:00.000+09:00

Ni hao, one and all!

I'm back from Beijing, and boy was it a trip. Despite the sub-zero winter temperatures, I had an amazing time in the People's Republic. My tour was also taken by 21 other foreign teachers in Daegu, some of whom I knew prior, and all of whom turned out to be a great group. It was my first experience traveling on any sort of organized tour, and though I had my snobby backpacker reservations, I guiltily admit it was nice having everything done for me for a change.

We were carted around on a big ol' bus all weekend, checking out the standard sites like the Temple of Heaven, the Forbidden City, the Ming Tombs and the Summer Palace. Even without sunshine, it all looked even more impressive than it did in Mulan (although a few jive talkin' dragons really would have added to the scenery). The Forbidden City was particularly impressive, though I'm still amused by the fact that there was a Starbucks in it. A Communist Starbucks!

The Great Wall, of course, was the highlight of the tourist hotspots. Stretching as far as the eye could see in both directions, it was everything it's reputation said it would be - except visible from space, but I admit that wasn't literally disproven. Given the choice of trekking along it in either direction, I naturally picked the west, which was considered the more difficult of the two. With some slopes so steep it felt like I was climbing over the wall rather than walking along it, and with winter ice and snow making the effort all the more treacherous, it certainly wasn't a walk in the park. Of course, it just made reaching the end (meaning the highest point of that walkable section - 'the end' would have put me somewhere by the Gobi Desert) all the more fulfilling. Especially when a little old Chinese lady at the top imparted the wise proverb 'bú dào Chángchéng fēi hǎo hàn', or 'you're not a real man until you've climbed the Wall'. Personally, I thought I'd leapt that hurdle with puberty, but I bought the t-shirt she was selling anyways. Let my manhood never be called into question again!

As impressive as the Great Wall was, it still didn't rank as the most memorable part of the trip. That honour goes to the experience of being in the capital of China for the actual celebration of Chinese New Years. It was the first day we arrived and most of our troupe were exhausted from a day of sightseeing, but a small, intrepid band of us decided to set out and enjoy the festivities regardless. The problem, of course, was that none of us knew where to go or what to do.

Luckily, a member of our party had a friend living in Beijing, Vivian, who offered to show us around. She came to pick us up at our hotel, situated inconveniently in the undeveloped outskirts of the city, and we realized we had a new problem when even the cab she arrived in wouldn't take us anywhere - he, like everyone else in the entire city, was taking the night off to party.

We were stumped. We wandered the barren streets hopelessly, trying to figure out how to get ourselves anywhere worth going. Luckily that was when kismet decided to throw us a bone, when suddenly a Chinese fellow driving a small, unmarked minivan pulled up alongside us and offered us a ride. The outright suspicious nature of the offer aside, we decided to refrain from inspecting a gift horse's molars and crammed ourselves into the impromptu cab. As a further stroke of luck, it turned out the driver WASN'T a crazed serial killer, but just a really, really friendly guy, who proceeded to be on call to drive us wherever we wanted all weekend, whenever we wanted, accepting only a pitifully small amount of money in return for his services.

Our gracious chauffeur took us right to the heart of the celebrations, and permit me to say, nobody, but NOBODY knows how to celebrate the turn of a year like the Chinese. I've been to Times Square for the ball drop, and Beijing made that look like a tea party. To set the scene, fireworks have been illegal in Beijing for the past twelve years on account of an overwhelming amount of reckless and excessive use. This year was the first that they had been re-legalized, which meant that, on top of it being the biggest celebration in the Chinese calendar, there was also over a decade's worth of a pent-up desire to blow things up. These are the people that INVENTED fireworks, for crying out loud.

To put it simply, I've never seen nor heard so many explosions in my life. And I fought in 'Nam. It was if the entire sky were on fire, with a constant roar of thunder rolling over the city. For you Vancouverites, try to imagine the Symphony of Fire - except that everyone that came out has their own fireworks, and they're ALL setting them off at once. The phrase 'reckless endangerment' doesn't quite seem to cover it. Arsenals included everything from aerial shells to firecrackers, which means that one wasn't safe standing anywhere. On several occasions I found myself suddenly surrounded by lit fuses on all sides, with no option but to hit the deck, go fetal, and hope that nothing set me on fire. Despite catching numerous ricochets, I managed to come out unscathed. Unfortunately, not all were so lucky - there were countless fires and injuries, as well as 36 firework-related deaths.

It's a poor representation, but I did take a short video to illustrate the scene. Keep in mind it's not even midnight and it already looks like a warzone.

Despite the inherent danger, or possible because of it, I count the experience as one of the greatest I've had so far in Asia, not to mention my life. It was so overwhelming it's difficult to explain with words, but it certainly made the whole trip that much more special. Once we'd blown enough stuff up (of course we got in on it - it'd be impossible not to have been swept up in the excitement!) we toured the winding back alleys of Beijing till we found a bar to continue celebrating in - one that offered half price on all of it's drinks to boot, including Absinth! We rang in the Year of the Dog (my year, booya!) well into the night, before calling our van man, affectionately nicknamed Vanorama, for a pickup.

I suppose that about sums up the trip. To those of you who actually bothered to read this far, thanks for the interest in the mundane goings-on in the life of lil' ol' me... Shien shien!

(( Sorry, no pics in this post on account of Blogger being petulant, but they're all up in the Flickr, so go look yourself. Lazy bugger. ))

Vancouver Bar

2006-01-26T21:25:00.000+09:00

Daegu has a new hotspot, and it feels a little like home!

Unfortunately, that's a bit of an exaggeration. Vancouver Bar (or 'Ban-koo-bah Bar' by way of local phonetics) may boast a little slice of West Coast heaven, but my excitement was crushed upon discovering that it's only real slice of Canadiana were a multitude of decorative flags scattered on the walls, and a lone fake pine in the center of the room.

I can't fault the intentions, since a brief chat with the manager gleamed the naive beginnings of the deceptive name. He explained that he had once visited my fair city, and was so enthralled by it's splendor that he decided to name his new bar after it. It's an explanation to swell the hometown pride, but I certainly would have been far happier had he at least gone to the extra effort to stock some Canadian beer.

Our visit wasn't a total loss, of course - there were several birthday celebrations happening when we stopped in, and simply on account of the novelty of foreigners (and possibly due to our booming aid in each round of singing 'Happy Birthday') we were laden with more slices of cake than we could eat. What can I say? I've always depended on the kindness of strangers.

General update stuff: the new apartment rocks! Quite a bit bigger and more comfortable than the previous one. Of course, now that I've settled in, I've got to take off - I'm heading to Beijing for Chinese New Year this weekend, and a whirlwind group tour. Some new pics up in the Flickr.

Moving!

2006-01-18T22:47:00.000+09:00

That's right, I'm moving! But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself - allow me to start at the beginning.

The fact that the standard teaching contract in Korea is for the duration of one year means that there's a lot of turnover regarding faces around you. I've watched plenty of friends go in the past month, and next month my coworker Rob will be the first of my colleagues to pick up and go. It's a tragic loss to be certain, but it comes with the dubious blessing of a new coworker.

Now, before we wound up with some mustachioed recreational yodeler named Helmut, we were given the opportunity to see if we knew anyone who would want the position. That is, after all, how Jo and I ended up here - Brent clued us in when the previous two teachers left. So off we went to poke through our social circles and see if we could stir up interest, though without very high hopes. After all, what kind of fool impulsively decides to move around the world to teach english?

Well, I'll tell you what kind of a fool: one Mr. Richard James Mosley, that's who! Well, and me, but I like to think that when I did it it was 'adventurous', not foolish. The point being that everyone's favorite fleet-footed hobo (and my best friend!) shall soon be joining me in the Land of the Morning Calm! I'm not much one for overblown displays of excitement, but I believe the phrase 'O, frabjabulous day!' is in order.

Of course, there's still a month's worth of immigration paperwork and possible problems before we'll be importing one of Canada's fastest resources, but I'm allowing myself some cautious optimism. Also, Brent and Jo have been cool enough to authorize a roommate switcheroo, so that Richie and I can finally test the theory of how long it will take our combined irresponsibility to burn down a house. Or a neighbourhood.

As a result, this weekend I'll be packing up my things and moving a whopping fifteen minutes walk down the street to my new pad with Rob. Hopefully he'll be alright with my recreational yodeling. Too bad, Helmut and I really would have got along well...

A Year Wiser?

2006-01-08T01:33:00.000+09:00

Well, I'm 25.

For those of you confused as to how this is possible, given that I was 23 when I left Vancouver four months ago and my birthday isn't till June, let me fill you in on a confounding system called the Korean Aging Process. Well, it's not actually called that, but that's a fairly accurate description of the phenom I'm about to explain.

Suffice to say, a person's age is calculated a bit differently over here. Rather than counting a newborn's age in months until their first birthday, the Koreans automatically consider an infant a year old the moment they're born. Furthermore, nobody 'ages' on the actual date of their birth, in the sense that they don't consider themselves a numeric year older. Instead, the entire population adds on a year at the exact same time - New Year's Day.

Yes, it's an amazingly nonsensical system. If a child is born on December 30th in Korea, he will actually be considered two years old when he is, in fact, two days old. It results in some very confusing discrepancies in my classes, with obviously misaligned children claiming to be the same age.

Also, it means that when I got off the plane four months back, I became 24 by local standards. Now, with the New Year passing, I've aged and, collectively, with anyone else born in 1982, become 25. It's extremely confusing, and on occasion when asked I've been known to actually have to think before I can tell someone my actual age. I've been telling people I'm 24 for so long I started to forget that I'm not, though it's nice having little bouts of relief when I realize that my life isn't flying by quite as fast as I briefly thought.

For those curious, yes, birthdays are still celebrated here, though not with quite the same fervor as we're used to. They're recognized as an anniversary of birth, they're simply not used as a marking point for the turnover of a new number on the ol' age clock.

Case in point, if anyone from Korea ever tells you their age, make sure you specify that it's their 'International Age' that they're telling you, as that's the birthday-based one recognized nearly everywhere else.

Konichiwa!

2006-01-04T14:28:00.000+09:00

Ryan-san, reporting in!

A big ol' Happy New Year to one and all. It's 2006 and I'm back in Japan, having returned successfully from my sojourn in the Land O' Sushi. It was an amazing trip, and I'm loath to announce that again, I wish I was there instead of here! Korea has it's perks, but Japan is just plain... cool.

Of course, it wouldn't have been half as successful if not for my incredibly benevolent local guide, Marlee, and her family. The Nitasakas were kind enough to show me around, feed me, and drive my butt all over the Fukuoka Prefecture and Kyushu countryside. I admit I'd gone in with high expectations, visions of mystical mountain temples and ornate monestaries hidden in bamboo forests dancing in my mind. And you know what? They were met! Japan, or at least the area I visited, was gorgeous, and it helped that the region boasted an impressive 88 temples hidden among the lush forests that surrounded the city.

New Years Eve was a blast, beginning with the three bottles of sake that Mr. Nitasaka generously gifted to me. After that it was karaoke with Marlee and her friends, who were very patient in enduring my empassioned crooning, and then to a bar with the dangerous offer of an all-you-can-drink open bar for the countdown. Then dancing into the night, and eventually hitting the pillow at my hotel just in time for the morning's New Year's Day percussion concert to start right outside my window.

Admittedly, being stuck on a rocking boat with a New Years Day hangover (for the second year in a row, somehow) was distinctly unpleasant, particularly when the engines cut out and we were left adrift in the middle of the Sea of Japan. Still, the entire trip can be chalked up as a resounding success, and I can't wait to return in April to cheer on the fleet-footed Mr. Richard Mosley in the Royal Marathon.

Pictures up in my Flickr, starting at page 7.

Gone Bunburying

2005-12-28T22:37:00.000+09:00

Just for everyone's information, I'm taking advantage of my pathetic sliver of winter vacation and hopping across the Korean Sea (or the Sea of Japan, depending on which side I'm on) to visit the bustling Japanese port city of Fukuoka. And fight me some ninjas. Hope everyone has a great New Years, and I'll post again in 2006!

Although if I don't, assume the ninjas got me. Damn ninjas.

(PS - Props to anyone who got the Bunburying reference)

Ho Ho Ho, Merry.... Line?

2005-12-23T23:43:00.000+09:00

A big ol' round of festive tidings to all y'all back home (and everywhere else you might be, though it seems like everyone is home for the holidays except me). Before everyone gets to worrying too much, no, the holidays are not killing me with 'ho ho homesickness', or at least not nearly as badly as I feared they would. I've been keeping busy, and focusing on my trip to Japan next week for New Years has been ample distraction.

Thanks to everyone who sent me Christmas cards! There's some seasonal decor and ambiance here, though Christmas isn't quite as universally present as it is back home (nor did decorations go up the moment Halloween finished, which was sort of nice). The past couple of days have been spent throwing hourly Christmas parties for all of our classes, which included a surprise visit from jolly ol' Saint Nick himself. Somehow, the majority of students seemed to see through my ingenious costume, and I spent more time denying the existence of anyone named 'Ryan Teacher' than giving out gifts.

Now the weekend is here, heralding a lot of partying and an ambitious potluck Christmas dinner held at Casa de West/Smith on Christmas day. Hopefully we'll be able to keep the number of domestic fires out of the double digits, but that's probably just wishful thinking.

Now, as my gift to you... A crapload of media! A bunch of new pics up in the Flickr account, as well as the following videos:

Y5 performs 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town'.... In Costume!

'White Christmas' as an encore.

My personal favorite - Mandy, Nick, Julie, Kelly and Karen perform a short play called 'The Song For Her' at the Christmas talent show. Nick is in love with Mandy, who blows him off... So he conspires with his friends to come up with a foolproof method to win her heart! It's almost cruel the things I make these kids do to amuse me...

A short clip of Santa arriving at the Christmas party. Watch as those clever little munchkins instantly see through my disguise, but marvel at my Oscar-caliber acting skills in throwing them off!

Stepping away from the Yuletide theme, here's a clip from my belt test, though not of me - it's Jihan, the most accomplished student at my dojung, doing a nunchuck performance for his third degree belt. We don't call him the Stone Cold Ninja for nothing! Unfortunately, I don't get to train with any weapons till black belt level!

I do, however, get to do this at my next test. So cliche, so exciting!

Vocation Celebration

2005-12-20T22:03:00.000+09:00

Inspired by Erin, I realized that I can use my camera to take short videos to stick in the blog. As such, I brought it into my preschool class today to record some of the speeches that my kids will be doing tomorrow at their Christmas talent show (along with songs, plays, and other things too long for my camera's memory). Here's a few of my kids and the occupation speeches they've memorized:

Julie the Nurse

Jason the Firefighter

Mandy the (sideways) Hairdresser

Nick the Office Worker (Hey, they can't all be exciting.)

Sue the Banker (Yes, we know what all kids are hoping to be when they grow up. The word she gets cut off on is 'interest'. Useful vocab.)

Tony the Singer (He's unintelligable, so he must be a punk singer. Watch Julie fall out of her desk in the background.)

Dan the Policeman (It takes everything I've got just to stop this kid from regularly eating his textbook, so I figured he had the IQ for a cop. You like that, Jord? Huh? Do ya? Video gets cut off.)

Kelly the Teacher (She steals the show - just look at that smile!)

Yellowness Revisited

2005-12-19T20:48:00.000+09:00

Fear not, this is not another diatribe on the issue of skin pigmentation and racial categorizing - it's a celebration of my first ascension in the ranks of hapkido! This past Sunday I put all of my newly learned ass-kicking knowledge to the test in front of a panel of stone-faced ninja judges, and was deemed worthy to move on to the next level: yellow belt.

Of course, as we've established, I'm no fan of the colour yellow. In fact, I think my white belt was far more fetching against the black uniform, but I suppose I'll just have to accept this as further motivation to steam forward to the next level of blue (then red, brown, and black - dare to dream). Of course, this is where things start getting difficult, so we'll see if I can handle the pain. I've only had one split lip so far, and it took me quite some time to come to terms with such a blemish upon my porcelain beauty, however temporary.

At this point, I reckon I could take one of the Three Ninjas in a fight. The small one. What was his name? Tum Tum? Yeah, he'd go down like a twelve-year-old sack of potatos.

Pictures forthcoming.

Does This Taste Like Ass To You?

2005-12-12T21:34:00.000+09:00

Just when I'd finally began to feel like I'd successfully navigated around all the bizarre quirks of Korean food, I got blindsided. The other night I was out for soju and galbi with a group of people, which involves sitting on the floor around a long table cluttered with dozens of side dishes. One can never truly figure out what all of the contents are, but I thought I'd learned which ones to avoid and which ones were safe. I continued to think this as I helped myself to a small dish of diced beef in some sort of marinade sauce. While chewing, Rob turned to say to me:

Rob: Careful Ryan, that might be chicken anus.
Me: Ha ha. Funny. *swallow*
Ben: Nope, he's right. That was chicken anus.
Me: ....

Now, I'm not trying to be closed minded to cross-cultural culinary experiences. I respect the fact that different countries have cultivated a variety of palates and formed many different foundations of flavour norms. However, I think one can safely say, without accusations of ethnocentricism, that whoever it was that looked at a chicken and thought 'gee, that looks like a tasty bird - let's eat it's ass!' was just plain-out messed in the head. Seriously.

I suppose I shouldn't be too horrified - I've had chicken nuggets before, and we all know they've probably got a fair share of rectum in them. It just baffles me to think that someone would take the time and effort to actually carve the anus out of any animal, let alone cook it. Not that it tasted bad or anything. A little chewy.

Update: Here's a pic of the infamous dish. Tell me you wouldn't mistake it for sauteed beef!

In Memoriam

2005-12-10T16:35:00.001+09:00

It figures, at the same time I was about to make a post telling all you doubters to stop constantly asking if my fish was dead yet or not... It died. I'm afraid that Seppuku's ongoing mission to take his own life finally bore fruit today... Or possibly days ago, given his particularly ingenious methods.

Somehow, possibly over the span on the past couple weeks, the damn fish found some way to 'shed' every fin on his body, thus robbing himself of any means of propulsion or steering. In essence, he because the fish that couldn't swim. Now, I'm not marineologist (or even a scientician), but I imagine this had something to do with his eventual death. I'm quite convinced that this was a direct result of his first suicide attempt (when his fins were first damaged), thus revealing a long-term gambit set to unfold over the span of months.

The true brilliance of his little ploy was that, somehow, via this means of death, he sidestepped the sub-aquatic mortum trademark of going belly-up. As such, he just sat motionless-but-upright at the bottom of the bowl for who knows how long, silently mocking me from beyond the grave as I checked daily to make sure that he hadn't killed himself. I've been fooled by a fish. Touche, Seppuku.

Now, if you'll all please, a moment of silence for the dearly departed, currently winding his way through the sewer network of Daegu. Bereavement gifts and condolences can reach me via the usual channels. I'm a bit new with this whole grieving thing - does anyone know exactly how long I'm supposed to wear black for?

Brack or White

2005-12-04T21:51:00.000+09:00

The racial colour spectrum has never been overly fair to the denizens of Asia. Africa and Europe managed to snatch up the most poignantly polar options of 'black' and 'white', leaving every other continent (and sub-continent) to be relegated to secondary hues. Brown in India, red in North America... Each vaguely, and often only barely based off of epidermal shades. It was, however, Asia's unfortunate lot to be bestowed with the spectral designation of 'yellow'. Particularly in Western interpretations it inspires connotations of cowardice and visions of jaundiced, unhealthy complexions.

It's really no wonder, then, that a purportedly 'yellow' race like Koreans would suffer a bit of a pigmentation identity crisis. There are subtle undercurrents I've been noticing in various media and marketing outlets evident of such. For example, take the poster to the right, delivering a very clear command to it's viewers. A simple matter of poor translation, or is it more? Is it a call to arms for those oppressed by arbitrary complexion categories to shirk the tint thrust upon them, and metaphorically storm the far more appropriate choice to claim it as their right? After all, I'd say with some fairness that most Koreans are considerably whiter than me. But then, I'm more 'mocha' than anything.

Further evidence of potential subversive appropriation reared it's head today while on a shopping excursion to Costco (sidebar: it really is an impractical place to frequent when you don't have a half dozen mouths to feed). While perusing through the toiletries section for the appropriate hair products with which to maintain my stylish bouffant, I stumbled across a bit of hard proof to support my theory. The form it took is chronicled in the following snapshot:

Now, if you can find it in yourself to see past the cryptic bastardization of the english language oh-so-common on clothing and products everywhere here (PIECE!), you may notice a particularly telling slogan pinned to the bottom of the box. 'We are all brack people'. I am, of course, making a bit of an assumption that the mysterious 'r' was meant as an 'l', a very common switcheroo in Korean phonetics. This announcement goes beyond the militant command in the 'Be White' poster, instead announcing, irrefutably, that Korea has already taken a new colour coding as it's own. Yellow no more: they are brack and they are proud!

So what is it, Korea? White or brack? Personally, I wouldn't wish to arrogate either, what with long-standing histories of connotations, stereotypes and stigmas. My advice would be to go new and go big; after all, there's still an entire chunk of the rainbow left untouched. Really, I don't think anything says 'respect' quite like purple. But that's just me.

In summary, remember everyone: Be, White! Keep on faith! Stay real! And, most importantly, PIECE! We are all brack people.

What, No Fat Lady?

2005-11-24T23:49:00.000+09:00

As part of the ongoing effort to support the illusion that I am cultured, I attended the opera this evening. The Daegu Opera House was playing Madame Butterfly, one of the few operas I'm closely familiar with. Since it's Italian, I figured that it'd be in a foreign language even if I watched it at home, and thus it was ideal theatrical fodder while I was awash in another country.

The show itself was quite good, with a strong voice from the lead and excellent set decoration, though the story was still a bit hard to follow without english subtitles. Of course, the whole ordeal was more than a little confusing, given that I was a Canadian in Korea watching an Italian opera about an American man and a Japanese woman... Both played by Koreans. How's THAT for multiculturalism? Unfortunately, the homogeneous cast sort of undercut the ethnographic politics of the story, which was my key interest in the first place. See? Look at them big words - I'm plenty cultured!

And now, a picture of me with Korean women dressed like Japanese geishas. Crimminy, I'm confused...

Coyote Ugly, Ninja-Style!

2005-11-20T14:05:00.000+09:00

While at a bar last night, the bartenders unexpectedly got up on the bartop and started dancing in a fashion very reminiscent of a certain Piper Perabo movie. As if that weren't enough, the one in the middle pulled out a pair of nunchucks (don't ask me from where) and started performing crazy taekwondo techniques to the music right there on the counter. Because, as we all well know, all Asian people know martian arts. Stereotype: CONFIRMED.

Always a Bridesmaid

2005-11-19T18:57:00.000+09:00

Today I had the honour of attending my first Korean wedding - that of Kim Jeong-Nam (aka Kwanjungnim, my Hapkido instructor) and his bride (and student) Yuri. Typically Korean weddings consist of two separate ceremonies, one to marry in the eyes of the church and another in the eyes of the state. I'm not sure which it was that I attended, but it was thankfully the big ceremony. It wasn't entirely different from wedding ceremonies I've attended back home, though it did have some interesting incongruities...

For starters, rather than taking place in a church, weddings occur in one of several megaplex-like wedding halls. They're scheduled with a cold, German efficiency, with several weddings occuring in different halls in tandem, and the following already setting up even as the current one is leaving. The halls themselves are quite nice, but the structure and pace give it a distinct 'wedding factory' feel.

You're ushered to the appropriate room by eerie doll-like greeters, who are also often seen directing street traffic. Once inside Kwanjungnim's other foreign students and I crammed ourselves into the back of the hall in a shoulder-to-shoulder mass of onlookers. Everyone was dressed to the nines, but the atmosphere wasn't as sacred as one might expect - chatter and movement never died down, even through the vows. Furthermore, the lighting was constantly changing, including several rotating spotlights reminiscent of a dance club.

Following the vows there was the obligatory cutting of the cake, which was a spectacle unto itself. The epilectic lighting became even more fervent, and the cake itself billows dry ice like something out of a horror B-film. Rather than simply throwing rice at the escaping couple (because, y'know, there's not much rice here in Asia) the bride and groom were showered with confetti, streamers, silly string and anything else that sparkled or shone. I threw my sequined cumberbund, in the spirit of things.

Following a series of chaotic group photos, we were all hustled down to the banquet hall for my favorite part of any wedding: the reception! Of course, due to the frantic pace of the wedding hall (we had to be out before the next wedding finished!) there was no dancing or speeches, but rather just rigorous eating and drinking from the overflowing buffet. When I finally rolled my bloated self out, convinced of a ruptured stomach, it was only about two hours after the wedding had began. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am! It was the fastest wedding I've ever been to... And I got married twice in Vegas!

Gatbawi Or Bust

2005-11-14T23:00:00.000+09:00

Taking advantage of a crisp, clear autumn day, Brent, Jocelle, KG and I set out for Palgongsan Provincial Park near Daegu with the intention of hiking one of the many mountain peaks, particularly to look upon Gatbawi, the treasured medicinal Buddha statue that sat on top. The mixed colours of falling leaves and painted mountain temples made the whole adventure incredibly scenic, if gruelling on the glutes.

Particularly painful on the pride was the fact that, as I hiked, I was regularly passed by ajumas (the polite Korean term for older married women) hauling butt to the top with their walking sticks. The mountain was, in fact, packed, and not with the weekend nature junkies one expects to encounter on a mountain hike in Vancouver. Instead, we moved through a sea of new-age pilgrims; parents and grandparents climing with the intention of bowing down before Gatbawi, who is said to hear one prayer from every visitor. Given that there's nothing in Korea more important than good grades, most hikers were ascending to pray for the success of their children or grandchildren.

The peak was an impressive site, with hoardes of kneeling Koreans bowing before a great stone Buddha, with a flat stone disc balanced precariously on it's head. Monk chanting and a heavy blanket of incense filled the air, making the collective experience only marginally more spiritual than the Grouse Grind.

Here's a few pics from the journey, with more in the Flickr album:

Pepero Day

2005-11-12T14:33:00.000+09:00

Back in the Western world, the 11th of November is a somber day on which we reflect upon the sacrifices made by soldiers in the first World War. Of course, Korea wasn't involved in said conflict, and thus doesn't observe the sanctity of Remembrance Day. However, not to be outdone, they did decide to formulate their own holiday to celebrate in tandem, and thus, Pepero Day was born!

Alright, I exaggerate, that's not the origin of Pepero Day - in fact, it's being too general. But I'm getting ahead of myself. 'Pepero' is the Korean word for 'Pocky', which itself is a Western-appropriated Japanese brand name many of you may recognize. For those of you who don't, Pocky are those thin cookie sticks dipped in chocolate, a popular Asian (and Vancouverian) confection. So yes, connecting the dots, November 11th is, in fact, Pocky Day in South Korea.

In the most overtly shameless consumerist holiday I've ever seen, Pepero Day is a day on which Koreans swarm stores to buy Pocky sticks in nearly every variation, size, shape and flavour, and proceed to distribute them amongst everyone they know. Unlike Valentine's Day (which appears to be sacred in comparison), there is no pretense of affection, love or other deeper symbolism, no attempts to form half-baked significance and history behind the exchange. You just... give people Pocky.

I'm torn between being disgusted by the consumerism and being impressed by the honesty. After all, Hallmark vaguely denies any hand in the formation of Valentine's Day, whereas Pepero Inc. (or whatever the parent company making out like a bandit here is) seems to bask in the fruits of their efforts with full pride.

Moralizing aside, I came out of the holiday with a fair share of spoils myself. All day students were pushing Pepero into my hands, from the normal pencil-sized sticks to cookie bats the length of my arm. I admit, while I never much cared for the treats back home, I'm suddenly finding them highly addictive. They do, after all, give me something to munch on during my minute of silence...

Haengbokhan Hangeuk Halloween!

2005-11-02T00:03:00.000+09:00

(That's 'Happy Korean Halloween' for you unilinguals out there.)

The end of the second month of my tenure has come, and with it one of my favorite events of the year: Halloween! I admit, I was a bit worried about being immersed in a culture that doesn't acknowledge the inherent wonderfulness of this pagan festival. Most Koreans have only a vague understanding of the actual holiday, but things such as 'trick or treating' or costumes are foreign and unpracticed. The horror!

Determined to drum up some festive spirit, I began by deciding to throw a pumpkin carving party. No easy feat, given that pumpkins aren't so easy to find when there isn't a high demand to turn them into lanterns. I had to poke into a hair salon and try to communicate in terrible Korean that I wanted to purchase part of their seasonal window dressing, to which they agreed, baffled. The second obstacle was trying to explain to Koreans exactly what a Jack O' Lantern is, since most seemed to have a vague notion that it's a type of hat, thanks to pop culture fables of the Headless Horseman.

Thankfully I was pleased with a festive turnout, even if we did only manage to drum up a couple pumpkins. Brent had trouble procuring his pumpkin as well, as the grocer didn't want to sell it to him because it 'would be bad for soup'. He had to try to communicate that cuisine wasn't his agenda. Our Korean audience was amused and horrified as we swam through pumpkin innards, carved grisly visages, and munched on baked seeds. The final products were then donated to the school as authentic decor for upcoming Halloween festivities.

The next issue was exactly how to spend Halloween weekend. For the past four years I have been captaining on the SFU/UBC Halloween Howler Pub Crawl, so suddenly being without a bus and a crowd of drunken people to follow me around was quite the blow. Luckily I found a smaller but equally rowdy crowd to celebrate with in Seoul, with a collection of Vancouverities and other Canadians (by coincidence, not national segregation, I assure you). So Jo, Brent and I hopped the KTX north and emerged as ass-kicking soldier G.I.Jo, 1940's bomber pilot Sky Captain, and of course, Batman.

Ultimately, the lack of holiday spirit managed to work somewhat in our favour, as everywhere we went we were viewed with awe and amazement. To an attention monger such as myself, this was bliss - I could scarcely walk five feet without hearing 'BATMAN!' shouted in delight, or being assaulted to pose for a photo.

Of course, the spirit wasn't nonexistant - wherever there are university students, there are those willing to dress in stupid costumes and use it as an excuse to throw parties. in the student ghetto of Hongdae we found a nice, big club called M2 in full swing, with plenty of Koreans in costumes and impressive festive decor. Here we didn't draw as much attention, but I compensated by dancing on stage till the wee hours of the morn. No easy task to do in a wool facemask and cape I assure you, but I was far too stubborn to remove either - Batman would never compromise his secret identity for something as paltry as heat exhaustion!

Having thoroughly enjoyed the pre-Halloween weekend, the only thing left was to do something properly festive on the actual day itself. Here the school provided us with an answer, opting to teach our preschool kids a thing or two about Western customs. As such we ordered several boxes full of pre-made costumes, spent a frustrating half hour wrestling them into them, and then took the wee hellions out trick or treating. Of course, we could only take them to their own parents' houses, as nobody else would know what to do if hordes of garishly-clad children showed up shrieking at their doors, but it was still a jolly good time.

Thus, another chapter of All Hallow's Eve comes to a close in the Land of the Morning Calm. Hopefully at least a few citizens were enlightened rather than annoyed, and perhaps a small handful now sleep more soundly knowing that Batman watches over their city, ever-vigilant, ready to leap into action!

Kung Fool: Enter the West

2005-10-25T23:17:00.000+09:00

Having finally mastered the secret art of the chopsticks, I realized I needed a new cultural novelty to apply myself to... And unless Bruce Lee and David Carradine have lied to me, there's nothing more Asian than martial arts! Actually, there's nothing Asian about David Carradine, but that didn't stop him from playing a Chinese character for four seasons of 'Kung Fu'. Now that's acting!

The point being, I've signed myself up to learn the Korean art of Hapkido. The actual national sport of Korea is Taekwondo, which nearly everyone here studies at one point in their life, but everyone knows only wussies and lame-o's study Taekwondo ('Sup Lemmen). That, and I found a foreigner-friendly Hapkido dojo before a Taekwondo one. As it's been explained to me, Hapkido is similar to Taekwondo, as well as Japanese Akido, but more practical (re: vicious). If you want to read up on more details, click here.

Now my daily routine involves my racing to the dojo on my lunch hour with Rob, then getting thrown around, kicked, and generally manhandled for an hour. Thankfully my class is all foreigners (3 - 6 people), along with our instructor/master, or Kwan Jung Nim. Thus far he's been very patient with my constant reflexive mistake of calling him 'Qui-Gon Jinn' instead - curse that fourth Star Wars movie! There has been less patience demonstrated regarding my constant questions as to when I officially become a ninja.

Hypothetically it would be possible for me to get a black belt before I go home, but I'm going to start with the preliminary goal of lasting my first week without anything breaking. Baby steps. Hopefully I'll be able to work past my notorious frailness and put the 'artist' back in 'martial artist'! Who says you can't be a lover AND a fighter? Just, y'know... Not at the same time.

WAX ON! WAX OFF!

McWorld

2005-10-25T23:10:00.000+09:00

All those unnerved by the steady spread of corporate globalism say 'would you like fries with that?' (Or, to be more culturally accurate, "너는 좋아한다 너의 식사에 감자 튀김을 하고자 했다?")

Picnic Time

2005-10-22T13:17:00.000+09:00

In my time in Asia, I seem to have debeloped a bit of a growth on my back, right around my shoulderblades. At first I didn't think it was a big deal, but then it started growing... And growing... And sprouting pigtails... And eventually kicking me in the ribs. Now, I'm no doctor, but I think this might be a sign of malignancy. Does anyone know where I could find a professional opinion? Here's a picture I took, not for the weak of heart:

At the risk of growing too attached to it (no pun intended), I named it Julie. The pic is from a huge cross-school picnic that we took our preschools on the other day, and there's plenty more painfully cute pictures of me being abused by anklebiters in my Flickr Album.

Fishy Business

2005-10-16T15:29:00.000+09:00

Because I've always been an ambitious fellow, I figured I'd skip right past the obligatory bachelor stage of killing houseplants and plough right into the realm of live pets! There was some difficulty in selecting exactly what species would cohabitate with Jo and I, as we both had different ideas. Jo hoped for a puppy, while I was uncomfortable trying to raise a dog in this urban sprawl (not to mention in a culture that would view my pet as an appetizer). I was partial to a chipmunk, but couldn't find one south of Seoul.

The compromise became evident on our next trip to E-Mart, the local department store: 50 cent goldfish! How can one go wrong? We had an empty fishbowl leftover from previous residents that was looking awfully sad, and filling it seemed like our duty. As such, I cordially introduce all of you to Jo any my new fish (respectively), Maeuntang and Seppuku!

To the right is Jo's fish Maeuntang, named after the Korean word for 'fish soup'. To the left is Seppuku, my new ward. He was originally named Midas (because he's a GOLDfish! Get it?) until one tragic incident. One day Jo came home and found him several feet from the bowl, baking in the sun and stuck to the table. She peeled him off and dropped him back in the bowl, to find he was still begrudgingly alive. Now he's been renamed after the Japanese form of ritualistic suicide. And yes, it has been suggested that this would be a popular course of action if one found one's self in my care.

The betting pool for their inevitable deaths has begin, and the next three weeks are already booked up. Be sure to factor in the fact that Jo and my conversations are often peppered with the threats 'shut up or I'll eat your fish'. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to take Seppuku to the park. Where did I put my frisbee...

PIFF-tastic!

2005-10-11T00:38:00.000+09:00

In an effort to prove that my levels of film geekdom know no borders, culturally or nationally, I set out this weekend to experience the Pusan International Film Festival. Brent and I, along with our friend and fellow teacher Jasmine, hopped on the KTX and high-tailed it south to the bustling port (and Korea's second largest city) of Pusan.

Pusan itself is a beautiful city. Situated on the coast of the Sea of Japan, it's the most reminiscent of Vancouver that I've seen so far. Architecture, climate, even geography hold little hints of home. Sitting on Haeundae Beach and admiring the glowing bridges and glass buildings across the water feels eerily similar to admiring Yaletown from the banks of Vanier Park.

In terms of the film festival, Pusan put Vancouver to shame. The entire city seemed to be involved in the festivities, and the energy was pervasive and contagious. The crowds were enormous, as you can see in the shot taken from the top of Busan Theater to the right. The screenings were spread across the entire city, but various outdoor cafes and tents were set up in common locations for fest-goers to congregate, swap notes and talk celluloid. In addition to common patrons, there were also student and independent film crews racing about to document the scene.

International celebrities wandered amongst the crowds, though I admit I only recognized a few. That's not to say I didn't allow myself to be caught up in the moment when a surge of screaming schoolgirls swept me towards a foreign actor, but nobody seemed interested in signing my breasts. Must be a cultural thing.

While I do admire Koreans for their cinematic zeal, I'm afraid it did create certain problems. Nearly everything was sold out long in advance, and the weekend was a mad scramble of trying to grab any leftover scraps we could find. This often involved buying tickets with no knowledge of what were were in store for, whether hyper-symbolic Iranian narratives or black and white musicals from 1930's China. Some were surprisingly good and some terrible, but the experience as a whole was well worth it. We even managed to catch a screening of the new Canadian epic 'Beowulf and Grendel' at the festival's huge outdoor projection theater.

All in all, the festival gave a film freak like myself hope of surviving here for a year. I may have to wait a month for the Corpse Bride, but the Koreans do know a thing or two about the appreciation of good cinema.

The Beer Out Here

2005-10-06T20:25:00.000+09:00

"So Ryan, what sort of cultural nuances are you dealing with living abroad?" "How do you cope with the tenuous political climate?" "How are you growing as a person?"

These are questions you think I'd be hearing, after moving to a different country - nay, a different continent. But no, instead the top ranking question burning the minds of the masses is: dude, how's the beer? Now, let it not be said that Ryan West does not take the needs of the people to heart, so for all of you, I have devoted myself to extensive research of this exact query.

And...

It's crap. Pure crap. Utterly terrible. I don't want any accusations about my unrefined beer palate either; I spent years painstakingly developing an actual taste for the ol' hops and barley just for the day when I could, with authority, pass judgement on another culture's beer. That day has come, and I gotta say, the verdict ain't looking good.

Essentially, Korea has one kind of beer. It's a thin, watery lager, like flat Corona. It's sold everywhere under two names, Cass and Hite, and anything beyond that is imported and expensive. In all fairness, the Koreans have no illusions about the quality of their beer. The picture on the side of the can clearly depicts a man making a face like he just drank battery acid, which is an all-too-fair metaphor.

Look at that. Even their spokesmodel thinks it tastes like piss, and he's paid to like it. In my first week I had a brief glimpse of hope when I found out that, technically, Hite also puts out a stout... But it turns out that's essentially just the usual lager with some dark food colouring.

The only real alcoholic alternative is soju, the national beverage. Soju is basically a softcore vodka distilled from sweet potatos, which are plentiful enough here to make the booze absurdly easy to produce. You can walk into any corner store and buy a whole bottle of soju for a dollar, though you don't really pay for it till the next day. Unfortunately, even this is better than the beer.

I should have signed up to teach english in Ireland. I'm sure they could use the help, and I could certainly go for a Guinness about now.

Andong and Hahoe

2005-10-03T15:05:00.000+09:00

I know what you're thinking: AnDONG, HaHOE... Why are so many Korean town names worth a good playground giggle? Well, the problem is that you, my friend, are childish and juvenile, and us mature adults will have none of that poppycock.

Heehee. Poppycock.

Anyways, Jo and I are back from another long weekend spent exploring this wacky, wonderful world called South Korea. This time the target destination was a small town north of Daegu called Andong, where an annual world-famous Maskdance Festival was taking place. We were joined by several new friends from around Korea, including two Vancouverites. The festival was spectacular, full of international dance performances, making masks, observing local customs and other such fun.

We also took a short trip outside of Andong to the preserved traditional village of Hahoe, which was truly impressive. Aside from a glimpse of how people lived almost a century ago, we got to sample some of the rustic experiences. This included more nuldduigi and showing my mettle in a Korean wrestling ring. There was also a wishing tree which you attached your wish to on a thin strip of parchment.

All in all, the weekend was a great experience, complete with several new friends to take out of it. There's more pictures at my site, though you have to wade through the old pics of my kids to find 'em, because I can't for the life of me figure out how to organize the blasted thing. There's also a more expansive collection at Jo's site, since she has a paid account and I don't. And she takes more pictures, while I often forget I even have a camera.

Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Lesson

2005-09-23T00:29:00.000+09:00

Here's an anecdote I thought might make for an amusing read:

Earlier this week I received my first bit of post (big thanks to the generous Ms. Ng), which included a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans. For those of you unfamiliar with this novelty item that originated in Harry Potter, it's a line of jelly beans with a special bunch of flavours. They range from the normal (cherry, lemon, etc) to unusual (popcorn, bacon) to downright horrid (sardine, earwax, rotten egg, booger... you get the picture).

The other foreign teachers and I had a good laugh, though none of us were up to the challenge of popping more than a couple of the unique treat. This meant I was faced with a problem: how to make use of the remaining beans? I was hesitant to offer them to Koreans for fear that the humour wouldn't translate and I'd just appear as a Western sadist, and I couldn't give them to my kids without being able to explain the joke.

... or could I? At this point I remembered my advanced class, a quartet of fourteen year olds with a strong grasp of english. My job is basically to chitchat with them to keep their knowledge in practice, which always gives me a blessed break from the usual regimented learning structure. In our previous lesson we had been discussing Halloween and, coincidentally, pranks. Perfect.

So, I strolled on into class and surreptitiously placed the box on the edge of my desk. Instantly four candy radars (which all children innately possess) started screaming and I heard four voices crying "Teacher, teacher! Candy! May I try?" With a furtive grin I handed out a bean each and sat back to watch my flagrant betrayal of trust.

One of them lucked out with a cherry bean, and had to watch in confusion as the other three erupted in shock and disgust. I, for my part, was doing my best to be professional about my delighted laughter. Thankfully, as predicted, the kids found the amusement factor of the gag to far outweigh the pangs from their protesting palates. The rest of the lesson was spent delightedly sampling beans and trying to describe their tastes in english, interrupted occasionally by an abrupt dash to the water cooler. On a dare, I swallowed a volatile mixture of pepper, sardine, vomit and earthworm, only to have my gag reflex object violently, much to my wee wards' delight.

Now, to all of you knitting your brows in consternation, let it be known that I'm the first to admit I'm not a prime candidate for demonstrating tact and maturity to young, impressionable minds. To my credit, I balanced the flavour scales by treating them all to ice cream after, as we were all more than a little queasy.

Not only am I doing this for another year, but I'm getting paid for it! Just another sure sign that the universe hates children...

I'm a Seoul Man

2005-09-19T18:22:00.000+09:00

I'm back from Seoul, and I've finally accepted that it's impractical to try and cram all of my pictures into blog sidebars. As such I've cracked and made myself a photo hosting account, so you can find a visual accompaniment to this entry at http://www.flickr.com/photos/westgoneeast/ (with a few pushy links included below).

Seoul was incredible. Even with two thirds of the city gone for Chuseok and nearly everything shut down, the city which sports a usual population of roughly half of Canada was still pretty bustling. While most tourist attractions were closed, we did get special treats like a Chuseok Festival that included such traditional activities as Nuldduigi, Tuho, Paengichigi, Sangmodolligi and my personal favorite, Fan Dancing. Though buildings were closed, the whole city was alive with random street performances of percussion and dancing.

We visited spots such as Changdeokgung Palace and Dongdaemun Market, the latter of which held an extensive pet market, sporting a wide assortment of pets, both usual and unusual. Sometimes it was difficult to draw the line between pets and food, since items ranged from parakeets to chickens, goldfish to trout, and dogs to... well, dogs. Personally, I'm seriously considering getting one of these little fellows.

We spent plenty of time wanding the student ghetto of Hyehwa, which was full of bizarre and beautiful sculptures of all shapes and sizes. The neighbourhood was full of theaters, art houses, museums, book shops, and pretty much everything else to paint a thoroughly tempting picture of living in Seoul. On the recommendation of my brother (and due to my desperate need to get an artsy fix) we also saw a show called Nanta, which as far as I can tell is the Seoul equivalent of seeing Cats in New York. It was a great show, a mix of 'Stomp' and 'Iron Chef' that included dance, percussion, acrobatics, martial arts, magic and nearly any other form of non-verbal performance theater. Maybe next month I'll catch Grease... In Korean.

On a 'small world' note, we also met up with another Vancouverite. I'd like to say it was all kismet, but really it was by the good grace of Dave's ESL Cafe. Still, it was coincidental to find another SFU alumni, of the English Department no less, residing just outside of Seoul.

I was hoping that being away from Daegu for a while would make it feel more like home, but the plan somewhat backfired and now I just wish I was living in Seoul! Sure, they may have some questionable cuisine and a terrifying police force, but the big city energy is highly contageous. I suspect this will have been the first of many eventual visits.

To close, enjoy these confusing/amusing cartoons detailing subway etiquette: 1 2 3 4.

Merry Chuseok!

2005-09-16T22:34:00.000+09:00

This weekend is Chuseok, or Thanksgiving. My first Korean holiday, and though I'd hever have thought it possible, not a Hallmark logo in sight! There are festivities, of course, although thus far I've only experienced them inside the school, specifically with my preschool classes. On Wednesday we made 'songpyeon', little crescent shaped rice cakes with red beans in th

e center that look incredibly unapetizing. I may not have been a fan, but they saved me from a morning of actual teaching with only some flour on my pants as an expense.

Although Thanksgiving here lacks the blessed Western convention of a heavily basted turkey, it compensates with yet another wonderful holiday staple: presents! My students (or rather, their parents) handed over some lovely wrapped packages today, including my personal favorite item, a bottle of mint chocolate chip... body wash? Yeah, I know what you're thinking... I'd be jealous too if my friend had the dubious honour of smelling like a cookie all day and I didn't. Cope.

As for the long weekend, Jo and I will be hopping aboard the KTX (Korea's ultra-smooth rail network) and heading north to the bustling metropolis of Seoul. We've been warned that plenty of the usual tourist haunts may be shut down for Chuseok, but it's a risk we're willing to take (largely because we don't yet have our in/out visas and can't follow Brent and Rob to Japan and China, respectively). I'll no doubt update when I return.

I'm gonna close this post by being a total soccer mom and posting a bunch of pictures of my kids in traditional Chuseok garb. They are one adorable way to start the morning!

(For you detail-freaks, I have two preschool classes. The big co-ed one is K5 and my personal favorite, since the kids are smart, well-behaved and painfully cute. On an amusing note, they're all enraptured by my exotic proliferation of non-cranial hair - every morning I'm assaulted by a wave of giggling children trying to pet my chin or arms. The other class is K4, in the lowest picture. To say they're 'just four boys' completely undermines the nature of small boys. They have enough energy between them to power a cargo locomotive, and I gave up long ago on any hopes of making them sit still for five minutes, let alone a whole lesson. I can be seen restraining them in the picture just to keep them still long enough to take a snapshot, after which they swiftly returned to screaming and leaping about like colourful silk-clad monkeys.)

The Grand Tour

2005-09-10T19:54:00.000+09:00

Awright! I'm online! After dealing with a very confusing Korean internet installation guy, and then fiddling with an even more confusing Korean router, we've successfully built a small onramp to the Information Superhighway in our Asian abode. One small memo, though - due to complications, I now have a new e-mail address, so everyone switch me to rwest82@gmail.com. My new non-electronic mailing address is also now available in the column to the right. Don't be shy with care packages, folks!

Since I'm nicely settled now, I figured I'd take the opportunity to do the Grand Tour. Show y'all around. Give you the lay of the land. And generally familiarize myself with the digital camera I keep forgetting I now own. First off, there's the swinging hip pad in which I now reside! My apartment can be viewed in the woefully washed out pic to the right. As I mentioned previously, the first floor is a chicken stand/kiosk/thingy, while the second floor belongs to our landlord. The top floor and roof are all ours. The two windows on the corner are my room, thankfully above the chicken sign.

Now, I'm actually too lazy to catalogue the entire interior of the apartment (and besides, it's not that big). All I have is this poorly stitched panoramic attempt of my bedroom, which as you can see, is quite simplistic. The walls are all concrete, so I can't put nails in them, and the floors are heated from beneath by hot water pipes, so carpet is out of the question. But hey, nothing says style like linoleum in your bedroom. No closets either - that would be too much architectural complexity!

But that's enough about the new Casa Della West... Who wants to see where I work? Just step out the door, take a left, walk a minute and a half and WHAM, you're at Ding Ding Dang English School, the proud building pictured to the left. The apartment is pretty much a block past the building itself, which makes for an awfully convenient roll-out-of-bed slap-on-my-face and skip-to-work setup. Thus begins a full day of dealing with the wee Korean munchkins and shaping their minds (and vocabularies) to deal with the scary anglo world beyond their country's borders. I'm beginning to realize exactly how poor my own grasp of english grammar is... Pronouns, prepositions and adverbs, oh my! They didn't even try to teach us this stuff in school! I don't think the kids have noticed yet that I'm pretty much teaching myself the same time that I'm teaching them.

Here I am in that age-old sanctuary of the educationist: the teacher's lounge. Look at me, being all teachery! This is where we hide on our five-minute between-class breaks to collect our sanity and stressfully vent about who's being naughty. The staff is composed of us four foreign teachers, as well as about a dozen Korean teachers who do the real work. The disparity between pay and work effort is really quite unfair, but I suppose we get a considerable premium for the whole 'switching continents' factor.

Now, for the picture some of you were eagerly awaiting: some of my students! This is one of my favorite classes; quite smart and enthusiastic, though often unruly. Clockwise from bottom left they're Alex, Kevin, Marcel, Ciara, Jina, Betty, Lucy, Anna and Elaine. Jina is a little hellion after my own heart, quick-witted and smart-mouthed. Every time she gives me sass I have to fight to keep a stern, disapproving face while inwardly I'm doling out the kudos for her being so clever. As I've said plenty of times before, I'm having to work hard to get myself into the 'teacher' mindset. Every time they beg me to just play games all class I have to force myself to deny their request and stick to my lesson plan.

That about wraps up the tour! Now that I've done the bulk of the generic stuff, future blog posts hopefully shouldn't be quite this long. And for those of you thinking 'gee, he seems to be having an awfully easy time of adapting to life in a foreign culture', here's a picture of my washing machine's controls:

Clean clothes was for chumps, anyways...

A Glimpse of the Orient

2005-09-03T02:32:00.000+09:00

It's still going to be another week or so before my immigrant ID application is reviewed and returned, which is necessary for me to sign up for internet. However, tonight I seem to be inexplicably picking up a neighbour's wireless signal, so I figured I'd take the opportunity to upload a few photos. I don't have many since I'm still new to this 'digital camera' thing and forget it at home nine times out of ten, but Jo's been far more vigilant and her visual chronicles of our trip thus far can be viewed at http://www.flickr.com/photos/85828131@N00/ (our trip starts around page 7).

This is my new neighbourhood. If you follow this road/alley to the end, my apartment is the last building on the right. It's the third/top floor, with some sort of chicken eatery making up the first floor. Although nearly impossible to find due to the labyrinthine street planning and the fact that they don't actually name roads, it's a good area. Plenty of shops, food, and literally a two minute walk from the school. We're right beside a major bus terminal, and there's a new subway station opening a couple blocks away any day now. Of course, public transit is pretty much irrelevant - for roughly two dollars Canadian you can take a cab nearly anywhere in the city.

Some of you will be very proud to discover that I've been wholeheartedly diving into the local cuisine as well. I've been trying as much as I can - galbi, oudon, bibimbap, galbitang, shabu shabu... Even the spicy stuff! My tastebuds (and digestive system) are slowly adjusting. I'm also quite amused that going to one of several Western restaurants in the area for steak is actually called 'getting Western', just as we 'get Chinese' back home. Always wondered about that.

I just finished my first full week of teaching, and it was a roller coaster, to say the least. Some days were great, with well-behaved, intelligent kids, and others I had to shout and glare to maintain order or pull answers like teeth. I even made one student cry, inadvertantly, and it was a horrible feeling. I'm getting into the groove, but the tough part is having to make up daily lesson plans for all 15 classes - it's only been a week and I already feel like I'm running out of creative ways to merge content with fun learning methods. Next week I 'open' a new class, which means I start a bunch of brand-new students. When kids start they're given 'English' names by the teachers, though I don't know if I'll get that honour just yet. Who wants to have a Korean munchkin named after them?

Now it's the weekend, and coincidentally, Brent's birthday. Last week was Rob's and we arrived just in time for a big party, at which I was able to meet several other waeguk (foreigner) teachers. This weekend will hopefully be round two, minus the jetlag! Pictured left is the waeguk crew from my school - Jo, Brent, me and Rob, from left to right, unwinding after a long day of educational antics. If you liked this snippet of pics, I recommend checking out Jo's library above - it has far more to offer, and on the plus side, far fewer shots with me in 'em!

The Korean Experience

2005-08-29T22:14:00.000+09:00

Annyong haseyo!

Well, I'm in Korea. Unfortunately, as I won't have internet for at least a week or two, that includes using Korean computers, which are all in Korean (browsers and keyboards), so bear with me as I attempt to communicate.

I'd like to say we arrived without incident, but sadly, this isn't quite the case. Upon arriving in Seoul I found out that Korean Air had sent my suitcase to parts unknown, and I had a heckuva time trying to fill out a lost baggage claim. This also caused us to miss our connector flight to Daegu, and thus a mad scramble to get across two townships to the train station before it closed ensued, with a very narrow success.

On one hand, we made it to Daegu. On the other, I was without clothes and, given the sketchy lost luggage report I filled out, was quite confinced I'd lost half my worldly possessions (not to mention would smell pretty darn ripe before the week was through). Several days were spent in a bit of a funk, but through some miracle I managed to coordinate a drop-off with Korean Air, and now I have underpants. Blessed underpants.

Aside from that, I've been settling in nicely. I moved into my new apartment, which was both nicer and larger than I expected, and barely a two minute's walk from the school. I've also been experimenting with Korean cuisine, often in a 'randomly point and cross fingers' sort of manner, to varying levels of success. Brent has been a great guide in explaining the quirks of Korean culture to me - for example, the trucks with booming loudspeakers beneath my window every morning are selling wares, from used computers to fresh fish, rather than announcing the invasion by North Korea as I first thought.

And then there's teaching. Today was my first day in front of my classes. I have thirteen in total, with between 4 and 12 children in each, with ages ranging from 4 to 14. The experiences have ranged from deeply fulfilling to soul destroying, depending on the class. Some children are adorable while others are clearly demon spawn. After only one day I'm completely exhausted, and feel as though I need a good week off before I'll be ready to face the screaming again. I don't think I'm exactly a 'born teacher', but I'm confident that I'll be able to ease into it - or die trying. I'm not kidding - I think some of these kids might be clever enough to engineer my demise. Thankfully the other 'foreign' teachers, Brent and Rob, along with about a dozen native Korean teachers, are there to walk me through the ordeal. On an amusing note, in Korea the letters 'R' and 'L' are interchangable, so I've been christened as 'Lion (Lyan) Teacher' by my students. Who'd have thought my mundane moniker would one day make me king of the jungle...

The actual city is more 'quintessentially asian' than I was expecting, with tightly packed buildings, winding narrow streets that make no logical sense, life-threatening traffic and a disappointingly flawed sewage disposal system. It was all quite daunting at first, but I'm beginning to understand the nuances and get comfortable in such a different environment. I'll be able to put up pictures once I get my own internet properly hooked up.

Thanks to everyone who's written to ensure that I'm alive (or possibly just to verify my death). I have my home address, but it's so impossible to find I'm afraid to have anything shipped to it. I'm going to get the school address to use, since it's on a main street and likely far safer to use.

What else? Oh, weather. I arrived right at the tail end of the monsoon season, which included a downpour during our race across Seoul. However, since then it's been sunny and hot, and incredibly humid. Nearly every room is equipped with an air conditioner, which makes an enormous difference. We have a rooftop balcony from which to enjoy the sun, though it's currently home to a green and yellow spider that looks as though it could eat a puppy. I've named him Ernest.

I think that's the end of my initial report. Should I survive a full week of teaching, I'll report again soon...

Lion Teacher. Grrr.

The Pre-Game Show

2005-08-22T05:49:00.000+09:00

Well, I finally cracked. After years scoffing at the blog craze I've succumbed and signed myself on. With a year-long sojourn in South Korea ahead of me I figured this would be the most efficient method of communication with the homeland, as so many servers seem to have decided my mass e-mails are of spam caliber and blocked me. As such, rather than do the regular irritating group update, I'm going to be logging my experiences, cultural observations and pleas for help at this address. Do I have what it takes to maintain a blog? Will I forget about it within a month, or will I fall prey to the monster of blog-obsession and start chronicling my life in the minutiae? Time will tell.

Anywho, to start off, the general rundown: I'll be moving to a city called Daegu in the southern part of South Korea. Daegu is the third largest city in the country, roughly the size of Vancouver. I'll be teaching english to kindergarten and up at a hagwon (english school) called Ding Ding Dang. No, this funny title has no profound translation - it's just the sound a small child makes. The position was offered to me via a friend who has been teaching with DDD for the past several months, Brent.

For those of you who haven't heard the anecdote, Brent and I met on a dare. Just prior to my trip to Europe, I met a stranger on the bus. She told me that her brother would also be in Europe, and challenged me to find him, with no information except the name of his sister. Never one to shy away from a gloveslap, especially a futile one, I accepted. As amazing coincidence would have it, her brother and I wound up having a mutual friend, and through coordination and a fair share of dumb luck, we crossed paths in Paris, as displayed to the right.

This Korean expedition will not be done on my own, thankfully: said mutual friend, Jocelle (pictured left introducing me to Korean BBQ), shall be joining me as a fellow teacher and roommate. Jo and I have known each other from first year, and now that we've both graduated, she in Communications like Brent, we're itching to get out there and see the world. Her far more politically relevant blog can be found at northofjapan.blogspot.com.

My contract is for a year, so that gives me plenty of time to stir up all sorts of international incidents. I hope to spend as much time scoping out other bits and pieces of Asia as I can, and anyone with a similar inclination back home is welcome to take me up on an open invitation to visit whenever. My e-mails will remain the same, and I'll be available at rwest82@shaw.ca or loki_odinsson@hotmail.com. I'll post my address after I arrive, and I'll be expecting a fair share of care packages to live off of. I'll post again once I've arrived and found my e-legs...