Playing Games

(your sun sets when mine starts to shine)

The Yellow Dust from China. Sounds sinister, doesn't it? Like it's some new kind of drug, or some sort of evil ninja cloud that consumes all in its path. Unfortunately, it's nothing as cool and deadly as either of those. It's this cloud of airborne dirt particles that blows over from China every year around early April. It started this week. Hasn't been bad yet, but I'm curious to see how things look when it does, since the natural consistency of the air in Seoul about that of a hot-boxed closet.

The kind of hot-box where all the inhalants are from several million cars and factories and gassy old women who stare at you on the subway, that is.

So what have I been up to in this perpetual cloud of dirt? Well, I finally broke down and bought a Nintendo Wii this weekend. Friday after work, I went to Yongsan, the biggest damn electronics district in the country - and boy, is it big. Imagine Futureshop if it exploded, and the debris covered several square kilometers. Then the debris turned Korean and carried a lot more stuff for like a quarter of the price - that's Yongsan. That's (part of) it in the banner image, by the way.

Well I started looking around there frantically for a Wii. See, they're not easy to get here, as the only ones here have been imported from Japan, and it's hard as nails to get there (signs everywhere in Akihabara said "Wii sold out!"). After getting laughed at by a number of booths for the impossibility of such a request, the dozenth or so shop I checked out said "No... oh wait a second..." and left to run to another shop. He came back and told me I could have one, it was Japanese (of course) but he could put a mod chip in it so it would play English games. Then he opened a binder of illegally copied, dirt cheap games that will also run with said chip.

Sold.

That's part of why I like Yongsan, and Korean shopping in general. There's something really unofficial about it all. This whole 'market' system, where you've got a big department-store space, but they're actually filled with dozens of little independent stores. Like a flea market.

That's Seoul in a nutshell - a city full of flea markets. this is one of those places where it's not only kosher, but even encouraged to barter with salespeople. It's a that shame I'm terrible at bargaining.

Then there's the cash. See, this place is still very big on cash. You can use credit cards and debit cards in a few places, but the preferred method is cold hard won. However, the largest bill in Korea is 10,000 won. That's about equivalent to 10 bucks, so if you're buying something that costs about a grand, you walk in with a fistfull of a hundred bills or so. While there's something very gangster-cool about having enough cash on you to do a Scrooge McDuck swan-dive into, there's something terribly inconvenient about not being able to close your wallet.

On the flip side of all that excessive cash and technology and consumerism, Yongsan is also a train station where a depressing bunch of homeless people sleep on a teeny slit of filthy dead grass next to the tracks. I felt compelled to photograph that, for some reason.

As I was stumbling around Youngsan. I saw this pedestrian tunnel. Tiled floors, walls, people, the works - clearly a walking tunnel, indoors save for the lack of doors. And at the entrance, they've got a warning that bikes aren't allowed. I figured that, only in Korea would you need to warn people not to drive their motorbikes indoors. See, the delivery guys on scooters here will take to the sidewalks, crosswalks and escalators to get where they're going.

Of course, moments after thinking how retarded someone would have to be to consider driving their bike through the tunnel, I had to hop out of the way of a delivery bike speeding through the very same tunnel.

So eventually, the Wii made it back to my home alive. Then I stayed home and played if until I developed mental bedsores and virtual injuries from sitting around and swinging around a white remote control for a couple of days. Between a few billion rounds of bizarre, remote-controlled nonsense, I'm practically enslaved by the goddamn thing.

Incidentally, the menus, and a number of my games are still in Japanese. That adds a whole new level of challenge, though. It's like an extra bonus game called "What the fuck is going on?" and you can get to play it at almost any time, whether you want to or not.

Surely my entire week can't have revolved around a video game, though. Well, I am still doing that 'teaching' thing. Or this 'speaking English around Korean kids and hoping they pick it up through osmosis' thing.

I got a few pictures of the kids this week, mostly 'cause I love little kid drawings. Particularly ones as tooth-rotteningly sweet as Dotothy's backwards-C "Oh so cute" drawing of her own clothes. And if you look closely at William's self portrait, you can see he's drawn himself as a horrific, fang-toothed monster. I've definitely taught kids like that, but he's not one of them.

But cute be damned, none of them did anything photographically hilarious this week. So, to close-out the week, I've got the (presumably unintentionally) hilarious and strange warning images that came with the Wii. Now, I understand that the North American Wii probably has about the same strange warnings, but it has been scientifically proven that anything bizarre becomes funnier when you put Japanese text next to it.


I figure if these diagrams prove anything, it's something I've personally believed for a long time - guys in pink shirts are really fucking stupid.

Answers Will Vary

(I'll do it anyway, so it makes no difference)

March is going away, making way for another month. But April isn't the rainy season here, that starts in July, and carries the much more sinister-sounding title of 'Monsoon Season'. That's old news, though; shit that was happening when I got here last summer. Now Spring is back, and the air conditioners are coming on already.

But where's all the green?

Well, St. Paddy's day was this weekend, if you'll excuse the cheap colour gag. Friday me and Ben grabbed a few drinks around Guro. We saw some sights typical of Korea. Strange murals that place Courtney Love next to Gandhi. Digital signs that show the ever-high air pollution rates in Seoul. One of the bars we went to was named JSA, after a famous Korean movie about soldiers being killed along the border with North Korea. I know when I think about death on the North Korean border, I think 'par-tay!'

Incidentally, as you can see from the sign here, Koreans truly celebrate Donk(e)ys for their chicken frying abilities. Or maybe the chicken is Donkey flavoured. Regardless, this is not the first Korean chicken joint I've seen with some variation of the word 'donkey' in its name.

Me and Cahill had plans Saturday to go to this big all-you-can eat and drink Irish party. However, like many plans left up to us retards for execution, they fell by the wayside. An original group of many friends planning to go dwindled to just us, so we decided to go to Hongdae instead.

Even there, we never had anything even as Irish as a pint of Guinness. We did, however, have a good time, between watching strange Koreans dance strangely and claw machines and bats and guns and tanks full of giant crabs and the like. See, there's this place we found in Hongdae with a batting cage and BB-gun firing range. Few things appeal more to an inebriated male than shooting a gun and hitting stuff with a bat.

Of course, then there's the ongoing struggle with the claw machines. I hardly pass them now without putting in a bit of change and trying for a lighter. This weekend, Cahill managed to score a pig lighter. It fires two flames - one from each nostril of its piggy little nose.

One of the things I like about going to Hongdae to is that Hongdae (or Hongik University) is the big art university in Korea. The area around it is one of the few places around here that feels truly artistic, or counter-cultural. In a city of ten million people, there are a surprising few that seem interested in going against the grain.

But around Hongdae, you can kinda feel the art. There's (decent) graffiti around. Stencils are pretty popular (even if the most common one is the hateful 'Fuck Japs' that some dickhead spread around). Maybe it's no mistake that one of the biggest foreign communities formed around here. Maybe these forward-thinking paint-hippies can accept us scary foreigners a little more comfortably. Whatever the cause, the bars and people are plentiful, and insofar as a Saturday night goes, I guess the paint is colourful icing on the cake.

And speaking of colour, it's been a while since I shared the some images from my colourful little characters known loosely as 'students'.

My former Kindergarten class has been split into two, and I teach both of them, and I work a lot more than I used to but the kids have grown a lot, and even when they're bad, they're more mature, and respect me a lot more. Their command of English is also impressive, considering they knew practically none when I met them in June. They speak full sentences now. It's kind of rewarding, since I realize that they learned a lot of that from me.

Even Kevin, who's in the 'less smart' class said of the awful gruel they were fed as a snack, "Peter, the taste is bad." I took his word for it. From the texture and smell, I judged that what they were eating consisted of the innards of an egg salad sandwich blended with sour milk.

Of course, I can't bring up my students so proudly without having a little fun at the expense of their limited English knowledge. Up first, I've got an older kid, whom I think was trying to tell me that there were too many people on the sidewalk to ride his bike quickly. However, that came out as "humanity is narrow". Or maybe he's just a 10 year-old philosopher-in-training.

Then I've got the infamous Kindergartener Gaby. The other day, the kids were doing this thing where they have to write a sentence. It was beyond their ability, so I was helping them on the board. Then Gaby screams "Teacher, I'm done!" I look at his book, and instead of the intended "The cat sat on the mat" he has...


"Answers will vary."

I break down laughing. Apparently, there's an answer key in the back of the book, and it took my clever-but-lazy student all but a few minutes to figure that out. He copied this, and having no idea what it meant, figured it was the right answer. In the end, we lost about five minutes of class time 'cause I really couldn't speak. The kids asked "Teacher is crying?" and between gasps, I said "No... laughing... that's the... funniest... ohmygod..."

It's a good thing these kids are so funny, it helps a lot with the frustrating moments.

View from the Top

(To the rooftops - to the ground now)

Beware the Ides of March as Spring tries to spring a little and worlds collide and new friends meet old. Life's a lot more alive when the weather thaws a little bit. There's a lot more happening - a lot more incentive to go out when it's a little warmer out.

Friday night, me and Cahill and Ben headed around Sillim a bit. Comfortably, almost predictably, we headed eventually headed to Led Zeppelin. We grabbed drinks and were given cheese and vegetable sticks and other strange free Korean things. There was a teeny dog wandering around the place, willing to hang around with anyone willing to give it attention - even me.

Ben headed his way and me and Cahill stuck around there and requested good music on rich, lively vinyl. Then we headed over to Box 86, where Cahill picked-up the untunable, mostly decorative guitar and strummed-out whatever mumbly tunes a drunk guitarist strums at four in the morning. We mumbled whatever mumbly accompaniment accompanies that brand of music and then headed back to the apartment.

But then mischief caught our eye (as it is apt to do at such an hour) and we decided to explore the building being constructed across the road from mine. Illegal and dangerous be damned, it was a worthwhile excursion. We got up on the rooftop and the view was excellent, and we hollered at pedestrians and I took pictures aplenty.

I'm so comfortable with the city now that it's easy to forget how cool it looks. It's a good practice to think like a cat sometimes - get up to a high point and get a good view of your surroundings. Perspective and and all that.

Besides, a place never really feels like home until you've played a bit of Urban Indiana Jones by exploring an empty, incomplete building.

Saturday, we went shopping around Myeongdong and Namdaemun. Or rather, we went exploring around the shopping areas (great place to find cheap knockoffs, by the way - check out that Mike sweater) trying to reach the underground mall I found back in August. It's filled with used record shops. After an hour or so of looking, it turned-out to be the third underground mall we checked.

Cahill got some nice records and I got what may or may not be an original Butcher Cover copy of Yesterday and Today. I'd rather live in mystery forever than try to peel it and ruin it.

So, a month after Valentine's Day, Korea's got White Day. That's the day where guys buy chocolate and candy and flowers and anything else for girls in acts of romantic consumerist desperation. Technically, Valentine's is strictly for girls to give gifts to boys here. As such, White day is actually probably a bigger deal here. Regardless of the gender stipulation, any holiday is an opportunity for small children to give their teacher chocolate and candy and freaky toy snakes that pop out of boxes with Kindergarten love hearts around their tongues.

And now I'm halfway through March. This weekend is St. Pat's day, and as decidedly un-Irish as Korea inherently is, I'm bound to do something relatively shamrockian.

To close this week, here's a subway ad for a toilet seat bidet. There things are actually quite common in Korea (in Japan they were actually in quite a few public bathrooms.) The things work basically the same as a bidet, but you don't have to... leave your seat, so to speak. And as strange as that all seems, it's not even the reason this ad really entertains me.



It's that woman. Or rather, what seems to be coming out of her. Apparently, this is the bidet so effective that it makes roses grow from your ass. Now, ignoring the fact that roses actually need dirt to grow, I really question the comfort and practicality of having any plant - let alone a thorny-stemmed flower - growing out of your ass.

The Boys are Back

(run to the hills - run for your life)

It's March now, my ninth month in Korea. I finish work the last week of June, leaving me with shorter than 4 months left here. Where I am right now is about where Ben and Mike were first when I met them (but more on those kids in a minute). I haven't officially started counting the days or anything, but I'm certainly aware of my imminent departure, and aware that I'll miss this place a bunch.

While I'm on the topic of departures, I went out Friday night to celebrate Scott's last day of work. He's a New Zealander at my school who's been in Korea for two years now. It's interesting how that seems to be the magic number when visiting Korea. While so many seem to sign on for the second year, comparatively fewer seem to stick around for the third.

After drinks and Japanese food with some work people, I went out around Seoul National University and met Ben for a few more. That was all great, save for the Korean guy at the next table whose idea of a date was shouting at the girl for three hours and leaving her with the bill. Minus the rather progressively unchivalristic approach to payment, that sort of paternalistic exchange is really not uncommon in Korea.

Saturday I did the time warp (again?) as me, Ben and Mike spent a night that felt eerily similar to my first few months in Korea - we even grabbed a few drinks outside of a Sillim convenience store.

Then we made our way out to meet a few of Ben's friends, and drinking at a Soju bar turned into singing at a Noraebang. Every time I go to one of those, I question why I don't do it more often. Singing drunk with friends is such a natural thing, and it's all the better when you're amplified and given the lyrics.

While this weekend, and the weeks preceding it, were quite nice and temperate enough to drink outside and adventure in underprotective sweaters, this week served to remind me that it's still March and Korea's still kinda close to fucking Siberia.

It even snowed this week - enough for that giant melting dandruff to accumulate on the ground, even. Koreans get so excited when it snows. They take out their cameraphones (they've ALL got one - I think it's actually required for Korean citizenship) and take pictures of themselves with the snow. Like it's a landmark or drunk friend or something. I'm almost sure I saw one guy try to put his arm around a snowflake to pose for a self-taken picture.

I guess I can't say much better myself. Snow is so rare here that I felt inclined to photograph the seemingly contrasting images of Korea under a whole centimeter of fresh snow. And of course, the kids were excited too. In fact, I'm not so sure excited covers it. Excited is running to gym class, or seeing their teacher for the first time after a holiday. With snow, they get completely run-around-and-climb-the-walls shitbaked.

Oh, those kids. I teach a lot more kindergarten classes now. Save for the lack of a nap-sized break in my morning schedule, it's all pretty good. The kids are in smaller classes and better-behaved now, too. The school's a little redecorated with strange papers from children who have since left - such as an illustrated document of what the earth would be like sans-gravity.

I've also redecorated my desk with little trinkets I've gotten from kids, or those that I've made in class. Not to mention some nice but photographically boring stock photos of me with the students. My two personal desk-bound highlights are clearly the adorable framed picture Dorothy's mom gave me, and the pigdevil puppet I made in class one day. The idea was to make adorable little animals, but I was a little bored, and of course kids love to follow the teacher's example...

Once again, it's quite clear that I'm having a good time corrupting these poor children.

But perhaps they're already gone beyond repair as it is. As the closer this week, I leave a relatively innocuous subway ad, featuring a geographically-inaccurate portrayal of Korea, in which it spans a significant portion of the earth's surface.


Sometimes I wonder whether this might be the version of geography kids are taught here. Whenever I draw a map (I do this often, I'm not sure why) the kids are appalled at the size of Korea relative to other places. I've had them argue that Korea is similar in size to Canada (it's about the size of Newfoundland). I dare not mention that Japan is bigger, lest I be castrated and eaten alive by an army of cute, over-patriotic 11-year-olds.

The Graduates

(a lovely bunch of coconuts, here they are all standing in a row)

The school year runs a little differently in Korea. Instead of changing grade levels over a long summer vacation, Koreans graduate in February, and start their new classes in March. More than a moot curiousity, that actually means that my Kindergarteners are swimming up. Incidentally, they're swimming up to their second year of Kindergarten, which will also be taught by me, but that doesn't make occasion any less auspicious.

The graduation ceremony was this week, and it was a strange but adorable event. Take all the awkwardness of six and seven-year-olds having to speak in front of their parents, then multiply it by whatever the stress level speaking in a language other than your own. Mind you, these kids are quite good at it, but still nowhere near as comfortable as they are with Korean.

Then there's the wonderfully adorable and delightfully strange performances themselves. They had a few typical (and atypical) songs and dances that make you go "damn those kids're cute".

A video of a couple of those can be seen here.
(the first two performances here are from my students, the Coconut class).

But then there were the plays. First, the older kids (some of whom I taught) put off a musical version of Snow White. The real entertainment value there came from the songs and performances. Strange singing, weird pronunciation, curious actions and completely fucking odd songs made the whole show quite watchable in a curious way.

There's a short montage of some of the funniest parts here.

But then there was the copyright-infringing surrealist take on the Peter Pan play. This one was performed by the younger classes, so a fair number of them were from my Coconut class. This was a pretty standard Peter Pan story. Oh, with Batman, Spiderman, the themes from Rocky and Mission Impossible, and a scene where hunters brandish machine guns.

Check out the insanity here.

It was all quite adorable, though. Next month, my class is split into two and I'm teaching fewer kids at once more often. Plus I've got a couple of new ones transferring from another school. I hope they've got as much personality as the nutcases I teach now.

Speaking of nutcases, I had a decent weekend. Me and Ben met up around his new place in Guro. We drank mircobrewed beer from strange jugs, listened to an awful Korean singer named 'Sweet Chocolate' (she was neither sweet nor very chocolaty), then headed to Hongdae to meet Trevor and some people.

Trevor's cohorts were an alright gang. Several were even from Newfoundland. Like always when you meet people from 'home', it only took us a few moments to figure out someone we knew in common. We sat in Brixx and had some hookah and some Korean girl was scooping fish from an on-the-floor aquarium tank and then we left the strangeness.

Well, I guess there's never a complete shortage of strangeness wandering around Korea. Nor is there ever any shortage of strangeness when drinking with a group of people. At some point it seemed a good idea for Trevor and a couple of other guys to try and stack on top of each other in vaguely homoerotic poses.

After we lost the group to whatever it is that separates groups of drunks, Ben and I went to Route 66 and played made-up-on-the-spot dart games for 10,000won per game. I lost virtually every one (except for distance darts and the first round of backwards darts) and Ben went home with a bunch of my money.

But Ben's not the only one calling Korea home for a second time. Mike came back this week, too. He was too jetlagged to hang out much this weekend, but the former Sillim Musketeers are now all back in Seoul (not that we ever titled ourselves, I'm just trying to impart the fact that we were three friends living in the same area). Even if I'm the only one still in the Sillim area. I guess that makes us the Subway Line Number Two Crew instead.

Changes have been underway in Sillim too, though. The sofa I got back in October was actually procured from outside a building being renovated. Those renovations are finally complete, and what was once a nondescript Korean building with an unwanted sofa is now a Seven Eleven. And so, to close this week I present a quick tour of the average Korean convenience store.



First, notice that outside there lies patio furniture. Practically all stores have these so you can go in, grab a beer, and get drunk outside the store. Repeat ad nausium. Also notice the flowery wreaths outside the store. That's what every new Korean business does. I think it's some charm or omen to wish good fortune on the new establishment.

Next, see the noodle section and notice that it's actually about one quarter of the whole store. Koreans love noodles, and I love Korean noodles. So nothing to really make fun of there without being a hypocrite.

Then see the dried squid section and notice that... notice that there's a whole fucking section dedicated to dried squid.

Finally take a peek at the seemingly innocuous chip aisle and think 'hmmm, which of the many varieties and flavours of shrimp-flavoured corn chip snacks should I get today?'

I'm not sure if I could follow-up a comment about shrimp-flavoured snacks even if I wanted to.