There and back again

Having two varieties of currency in your wallet produces a wonderful in-betweeny feeling, especially when neither of them is the Canadian dollar. I was in Fukuoka for 30 hours, and I walked so much that I got blisters on my feet, which is no small feat because I walk a lot. Most of this walking was intentional: I wanted to see as much of the city as possible; about 3 hours of this walking was accidental: I was lost. Well, not lost in the sense that I didn't know where I was (I did), I just couldn't find my hotel.

My boss made the reservation for me, but the address was in Korean characters, so I asked Matt (who had stayed at the same hotel) where it was, and he said just outside such-and-such subway station. Unfortunately, such-and-such subway station turned out to be not so much such-and-such, and more such-and-a-completely-different station, 10km away. After I had methodically scoured a scientifically-determined radius (yes, I know how to have a good time) around the wrong subway station, I asked crosswalk-waiting captive for directions. The crosswalk (complete with a no walking light) was only for a single-lane street, and no cars were coming, yet he didn't jaywalk. After I understood that I should go to the Tenjin subway station, I thanked him, and unthinkingly jaywalked across the tiny street, oops. Tenjin station also turned out to be the wrong station. However, it had a gigantic underground labyrinth of sun-free European shopping streets. Fortunately, what they lacked in authenticity they made up for in detailed maps. On one such map I found a purple dot that said "tourist information," which turned out to be a travel agency. The exceedingly polite and helpful person there directly me to the correct subway station, and even drew me a map that showed which of the 17 exits I should take.

My general impression of Japan, or at least Fukuoka, was that it is very clean, beautiful, polite, organized and fond of cartoon characters. Everything went smoothly at the Korean consulate, so I am now legally entitled to work in Korea, which is probably a good thing. I liked the beach a lot, even though it was raining most of the time. As a matter of fact, I still have sand in the rolled-up cuffs of my corduroys.

There were a few neat technological things, like the automatic pants-pressing machine and the bidet at the hotel, and the ridiculously easy-to-use subway system. But it wasn't as excessively futuristic as I had expected. Tokyo probably has more of that. There was a neat arcade-type place, though. It had about 40 of those crane games--you know, the ones where you guide a claw-crane thing and try to snatch various shiny prizes. Curiously, this was combined with several rows of slot machines and other gambling things. Most importantly, they had a legit arcade version of Mariokart, with tons of stuff not found in the console versions.

The castle ruins I visited were even more historically profound than Mariokart. Although, in comparison to some of the stuff I saw in China, they paled a bit. But it's always neat to see really old stone structures, I guess. I prefered the nearby immaculately landscaped park. It surrounded a small lake, and there was a chain of bridges and small islands that divided the lake in two. There were many small birds, heron, and even a special island with a tree for some other large birds (hawks of some kind, maybe, since they seemed to be the official bird of Fukuoka). Also, they had those large orange, white or gold fish that you see in paintings. They were big. They lurked peacefully.

So there's a spliced-together package of my brief trip to Japan. I think I will remember it as flowery, polite and soothing: kind of like Scarlett Johannsen's day-trip to the temple in Lost in Translation, I'd like to say.

The photos

P.S. I was accepted to the UBC-Okanagan education program, which was my second choice. I should hear from SFU within the month.

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I walked up another hill today. It wasn't as big as the first one I walked up, but you could still see a lot of stuff. A complex of some kind was being built on top. I stopped by some old men and watched the Hyundai machinery crush boulders. A sign showed that a basketball court, some tennis courts and some garden stuff would be built there by 07.31.2008. But today it was just a flat hilltop, and dirt. I kicked an errant soccerball back to a little girl. Dogs ignored my whistling, presumably because it was non-Korean. I saw a pigeon with a large tumor or some kind of growth on its foot. It was hopping around.

A smaller misfortune: Alex, the little guy from 2 posts down, sneezes tremendously; he sneezes voluminously; he sneezes foot-long boogers that dangle down to his desk. All from a 5-year-old nose in 3-foot frame. Usually there is a box of tissue in the classroom, but on Friday it was missing. So when the inevitable explosion occured, he was left standing there with snot stringing from his nose down to a pool on his desk. Of course, Joshua and Lisa started making fun of him, and since he couldn't really move or talk very well, he started crying. By the time Nadia arrived with the emergency tissue tears had run down his cheeks and were now dribbling down the mucus ribbons. It was quite a funny sight. Don't worry: he bounced back quickly and by the end of the day he had recovered enough to steal Joshua chocolate, which, in turn, made Joshua cry.

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I bought a green plant today for 5,500 Won. I can tell we're going to be good friends, until it dies in three weeks. I'm going to Fukuoka, Japan for two days next week. This has nothing to do with obtaining a working visa, because that would imply that I don't have one presently, which would be illegal. I've been told it's balmy. Is balminess photographable? No, it's just an abstract concept, and our camera doesn't have a setting for those.

Kurt Vonnegut died on April 11th. This is a sad thing. Perhaps no sadder than any other distant and unknown death, but sad nonetheless. He inhabits a rare writing niche: his novels are both substantial and accessible. Finding that balance is something extremely difficult to do and one of the biggest obstacles for any artist. It's not particularly hard to make something obtuse which stakes its value on its very obscurity. Nor it is overly difficult to create something that panders to the "lowest common denominator." And there isn't anything wrong with either of those things, but credit should be given when the elusive middle ground is found. There are no such things as books that everyone should read, but if there were, Slaughterhouse 5 would be one of them.

On Easter Sunday I went to Yeuido island, an island in the Han river, which runs through Seoul. The aim of my trip was Yoido Full Gospel Church, which by some measurements has the largest membership of any church in the world. Yeouido island is only about 8 square kilometres--not so big, I thought. The church has services pretty much all day, so I decided to just walk around the island until I found it. I like doing things that way, when I have time. It was a nice little (2 hour) walk. I walked clockwise around the outside of the island, because I had a (correct, it turned out) idea that the church would be on the outside. (The middle is a lot of businesslike high rises and TV studios.) Little did I know, if I had walked counterclockwise I would have found the church in about 5 minutes. But, owing to my fear of spontaneous time travel, I don't trust counterclockwise. Anyway, I finally spotted it in the distance at about 2:55, just in time for the 3 o'clock service.

It wasn't as weird as I thought it would be. It didn't seem that big, maybe because it was only half full. There were two bands and a 50-person choir. There was also a group of about ten people singing up on stage. They seemed like aspiring K-pop stars--but who isn't, really? What I really liked, though, was the dance team. It was nine young women (don't get the wrong idea; they were conservatively dressed). They were kind of like a mix between Dance Dance Revolution, the "hand dancing" team from Napoleon Dynamite, cheer leading, and traditional Asian dancing of some kind. I can't really explain it better than that, but they really kicked ass. They had elaborate, lengthy, high-energy routines for each song, and they never lost their synchronization. (Korean people can synchronize dance your face off.) One young woman, in particular, impressed me. She was more of a blur, since she was so far away (I was in the balcony), but somehow she exuded an unmistakable positivity. I can't really explain it, but her dancing communicated a profound contentment and thankfulness for life. I really appreciated that.

So, it was a worthwhile experience despite the fact that no one talked to me, I couldn't understand the sermon and the songs were unfamiliar. Actually, one song was sung to the tune of "Because He Lives." So I just substituted the English chorus, which, surprisingly, was stored in my memory. So, I was singing the same song as the other thousand people, but with my own words. Although, as solipsists would have it, that's all anyone ever does. So it goes.

7 pictures

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Kindergarten, my dear Watson

Here it is: photographic proof that I'm in Asia. Heed and defer to my explanatory syllogism!

1. The child with me in the photo is Asian.
2. Asian children are found only in Asia.
3. Therefore, I am in Asia.

It occurred to me (after I was told so) that I haven't talked much about the details of my job. So, I will. I work at the Boramae branch of Kid's College, which is a franchise chain of English-immersion kindergarten schools. There are about 24 franchises, I think. Most are in Seoul. We also teach extra-curricular English classes for elementary-age students. The Boramae branch just opened on March 1st (which is when the school year begins in Korea). A British couple, who comprised half of the 4-teacher staff (not including the large non-teaching staff), abruptly left for places unknown. Also, a guy from California flaked out and left (this happened after I arrived), so the school was pretty desperate to secure a reliable replacement. This is why I was able to sign a 4-month contract instead of the standard 1-year contract. This is also why the span between the time I first heard about the job and my arrival in Korea was about 2 days.

The school is magnetized to a cluster of high rises (not literally, but it was built nearby to tap the market contained in said buildings). These are very large and expensive buildings. From what I gather, the rent is comparable to downtown Vancouver. Hence, the students at our school are relatively well off. There are about 50 students, but no more than 20 or so are ever there at once.

I teach Monday to Friday. From 9:30 (nice, I know) to 2:20 I teach 5 forty-minute classes to the 8 kindergarten-age kids in my class. From 2:30-6:20 we teach classes to elementary-age children (roughly grades 1-4) who have finished their days at their regular Korean schools. These classes are staggered, though, so I don't teach the full 4 hours. It varies by day, but the average is about 2 hours. So, theoretically I only teach about 35 hours a week, but I'm usually at school for 45 hours per week with all the preparatory work. I like it. The pay is good. I feel like a real teacher because I have the same 8 kids for most of the time. This is different than in China, where I was more like a guest English coach in a Chinese teacher's class.

I teach 14 subjects to the kinder kids, for example: Language Arts, Arts & Crafts, Theme Activity, Sharing Time, Character Education, Gym, Library, etc. The class maximum is 12 kids, but since the school is still new, my class of 8 is actually the largest class. I'm kind of proud of this, for some reason. It's also the neatest class, since I'm a bit obsessive-compulsive about having it organized. Also, our wall art kicks the most ass.

Kids get very excited, especially when a happyface token is at stake. I have devised a happyface chart that ... charts the number of happyfaces each student receives (for good behaviour or good work). At the end of the week the top 3 students get candy. This bribery is remarkably motivating. Mind you, kids also get really excited about things like pink scissors: "Teacher, me pink scissors!" (There are 2 pink pairs and 6 blue pairs). Also, they become angelically quiet and they stare at me with hypnotizing sincerity when the daily helper badges are being assigned. (Please let him pick meeeeeeeeeeee, If I concentrate hard enough I can will him to put the snack helper badge by my name.) There is a paper helper, a line leader and a snack helper. I've been thinking of making a team leader badge. It would have to be more ornate than the others, which would make it more coveted, but, of course, the person who won it for the day wouldn't be required to do anything; it would be an honorary title. I could also have assistant to the regional manager. Yes, I can see it now.

So, yeah, the above is a clump of details about what I've been doing here. Consider yourself informed.

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A picture with people in it! If I was in this it would be proof that I really am in Seoul and that this isn't all just an elaborate ruse (which the only good kind of ruse, except for possibly the Molasses-Emu ruse). Anyway, left to right (the chimpanzees eventually wrote War and Peace, backwards, with Harry Potter as the protagonist) the people are: Charlotte, Julie and Matt. Charlotte is sort of an office worker person at the school. Julie is basically the assistant manager. She refers to herself in the third person sometimes, which is funny. Matt is Seattle Chuck.

We went to this barbecue-type place last night, since we got paid. It's my favourite food. Basically it's a big tilted raclette. You put raw beef, garlic, onions, and kimchi (etc.) on it and they sizzle and gain powers of deliciousness. Once they are ready, you wrap it all up in a big piece of lettuce with some thinly-sliced beet-type vegetables, spicy sauce, oil, and a wasabi-like powder--yum! Double yum! It's a bit messy because lettuce isn't really good at holding things, but they give you a neat little rolled-up wet napkin, so the messiness is minimized. It's not really that filling. At this place it was about $8.75, but you can get it for half as much elsewhere.

Einstein Baby is milk. (There's a sentence I never expected to write.) Normally I just get non-Einstein milk, but I was feeling a little thick-headed, so I splurged the extra 30 cents. I did almost come up with a unified field theory of physics, but still, 30 cents? (Homer: "2 dollars? And it onnnly transports matter?") It tasted a little funny.

In other food related news: last weekend we wandered around downtown for about 3 hours trying to find Itaewon, the foreigner district. Actually, we knew where it was but we decided to take a circuitous route so we could get a better feel for the city (I think it worked, a bit). Itaewon was pretty lame, but I did eat a kebab from a Turkish place--sooo good! Just thinking about it makes me want to take a 30 minute subway ride over there just to eat another one. However, in 45 minutes I'm meeting Matt, Erik and Clara (the boss) and we're going to Costco to get the stuff we can't get anywhere else, apparently. I don't actually need anything, since I hardly ever (think that) I need anything, but I might get some bagles (ever though they won't be "real" bagels) or some muffins. After that I'm going with Matt to some documentary film festival. Kind of like the one in Prince George, except it exists.

Speaking of movies, I went to 300 last night. I don't know how to buy tickets in Korean, so I just wrote "300, 22:20 (the time of the movie)" on a piece of paper. I really don't mind appearing to be dumb. I kind of enjoy it actually, which is good because 300 made me dumber. I don't regret seeing it; it was fairly entertaining, but I wouldn't recommend it. All of the greenscreen scenes were kind of neat, but they had a claustrophobic feel; it couldn't really translate the expansive cinematography that you would expect in a film about Spartans. I think the criticisms of how it portrayed Middle Eastern people were a bit of a tempest in a teacup because it's kind of impossible to make a movie about that particular historical event without including the Persians, and it's kind of hard to have bad guys in a movie without portraying them as bad guys. Actually, I don't completely agree with my argument here, oh well. The excessive testosterone I took for granted; it's the movie's raison d'etre, and it's what made it somewhat enjoyable. I was, however, a little bit bothered by the way many of the most despicable villains were portrayed as deformed and disabled. I can imagine better movies being made about the Spartans, who are pretty fascinating, but this one was OK. One thing I didn't get was why King Leonidas (the central protagonist) spoke with a Scottish accent. I think he was channeling Braveheart. Best quotation (said by a pathetic, enthusiastic hunchback guy): "I will kill many Persians."

I finished Life of Pi on Thursday. That was pretty quick for me. I liked it. It was deserving of the Booker prize. I recommend it. I am a bit biased because I love anything that is set at sea, or on deserted islands. I was further biased by the thesis of the novel, which is about as close as anything could come to a synopsis of my religious beliefs, such as they are. I liked it more for it's subject matter than for Yan Martel's writing style or for his formal techniques. I think I was also biased against him because he is a philosopher turned writer. This is kind of like how I am slightly biased against Douglas Coupland because he's a visual artist turned writer. These are nonsensical, vestigial biases though. I don't really let them have much clout, and I usually get past them reasonably quickly. I do this because they directly contradict my official position on what writers (and artists in general) are, which is that they aren't anything; everyone is a writer (or artist), and any hierarchical organization of artists serves only elitism.

I had a few more anecdotes--none having to do with necking or doting, mind you--but I'll just skip them because I have to leave and this post is long enough as it is. Someday (read: never) I will learn how to make seperate, themetically-coherent posts, but until then I will just sporadically write unecessarily long and rambling posts, and people will quit reading halfway through. It's not an exact science, probably because it's neither exact, nor a science.

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