So I’m doing the same camp thing again that I did in January. The difference now is I’m doing it all by my lonesome, the students are exclusively from my school, and I’m so over this whole thing it’s phenomenal.

Seriously, I’ve all but ceased caring about the whole damn thing.  So much so that for the past three days I couldn’t bother myself to look at my lesson (even though half of it is stuff I didn’t teach last time) before I was, you know, actually in the room doing it. Luckily, I guess, the kids are also pretty over the idea of coming to school during vacation, so it all works out.

Even though I chose it, and therefore have no one to blame but myself, if I have to watch Footloose one more time I think I will take a bunch of pills that fuck with your heart, and put an end to the whole wretched thing.  It’s a shame really.  I wish I hadn’t seen it again.  See, when I was about 14 I thought Footloose was the coolest thing ever.  I think that’s partly because I grew up putting up with attitudes and listening to sermons about the evils of popular music, much like those portrayed in the movie (only they were Mormon sermons so they were, you know, not interesting). I also thought it was cool because it was filmed in Utah, and my sister went to college with people who had cousins who were extras.  Like, how “Six degrees of Kevin” is that? Watching it now, 22 years (like, what happened?) later, it just looks old and ridiculous.  That said, the young Kevin Bacon was pretty hot.

Camp finishes on Friday, and then I have to do the whole thing, yet again for the 8th graders next week.  Maybe we’ll just watch the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy and all the Harry Potter movies so far.  That should get me through the entire week.

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Anyway, there are actually other things going on in my life.  Good things.  I don’t want to talk about it just yet, but a major, major update is coming soon.  Promise.  

Since there’s not much going on today in the way of pomp and circumstance (see below), how about another trip down yeot nalwei ku-rioun?  Here’s a short piece I wrote maybe three or four months into my first Korean adventure.  In fact I just did some research and learned the original e-mail went out on November 4, 2002.  Note: I’ve edited this for clarity and typographical errors.  Also, no pictures this time.  

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Yes, but are you sure it’s fresh?  

My friend the doctor recently took me to a Japanese restaurant for sushi.  It’s a new restaurant in a trendy part of town.  Sushi for most Americans means California Rolls or the occasional piece of raw salmon or tuna wrapped around a glob of rice.  Not so in Korea.  For one of the appetizers the waitress brought out a plate of octopus.  It wasn’t the first time I had eaten octopus so I took a piece without thinking much about it.  No big deal.  It was rather tough, but not bad.  Then the doctor pointed out to me the octopus was still alive.  Or, not quite dead yet is probably more accurate.  He held up a piece of it with his chopsticks, and sure enough, it was still squirming.  Next he stuffed it in his mouth and began to chomp on it.  I felt faint.  I’ve heard of this, but I had never actually seen it to that point.  The deal is they take a live octopus out of a holding tank and cut it to ribbons with scissors, then throw it on a plate and serve it before it has even finished watching its little octopus life flash before its little octopus eyes.  Next time I’ll be more careful.  

Sometime later the same waitress brought out a plate with four small pieces of flesh and said it was whale meat.  Now, let me be clear on this one.  I decided before I ever left Portland that I wouldn’t eat dog meat, but if I ever had a chance to eat whale, I’d give it a go.  It was good, but not great.  Not good enough to destroy a species over certainly.  It was a little like eating the fatty part of a chunk of roast beef.  So, I ate whale.  I can never look those boys from Green Peace in the eye again, no matter how cute they are, but I made my choice so there is no use blubbering about it.  


Your own personal Confucius

Since I’ve been in Korea I’ve been trying to learn more about Confucianism. Korea is a Confucian society and I’d like to know what the hell these people are thinking about.  All I’ve really learned so far is the principle of the five relationships. In Confucianism there are five basic kinds of relationships between humans:  Parent to child, teacher to student, friend to friend, Lawyer to client, and host to contestant, or something along those lines.  Funnily enough, it doesn’t say anything about the relationship between man and cut-up live octopus.  Anyway, so life is defined by these relationships and you’re supposed to show the appropriate level of respect to a person depending on the category of their relationship with you.    To me, it seems Koreans spend a lot of time worrying about the structure of relationships, and not a lot of time actually having them.  Confucius say “bite me.”  

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At the time I first wrote this, I remember thinking I was very clever. I still think it’s pretty clever, but it now feels a bit forced, like I was trying too hard to be funny.  You learn as you go. What more can I say?

Today is graduation day at my school.  I assumed I would be attending the actual ceremony so I dressed up a little today (wore my Thai tie with the elephants).  The ceremony is going on now however, and all the teachers are just sitting here in the office.  Just now I went and did a little recon. The school cafeteria is packed to the gills with overflow parents and students milling about outside.  I asked Mr. Lee about it and he invited me to go in and check it out.  We stood near the entrance for a bit and some parents pushed past me in a very aggressive kind of way, so I decided then and there the graduation could go on without me, thank you very much.  

There is a possibility I’ll get to leave after lunch, but no one really knows.  They tend to make decisions about me on the fly.  The “F” factor (foreigner) always throws a kink into whatever operation is at hand.  

More "Best of..." Today I found something I wrote about a motorbike day-trip I took near the place where I was living during my first year. I started in Gimcheon and made a circle to the northeast toward a small town called Sangju and made several stops along the way. This trip was a kind of trial run for a much longer trip I took a couple of weeks later. This would have been sometime in May of 2003.

Sunday morning I set out on my motorcycle to the town of Seonsan, about 20 km north of Gimcheon. Seonsan is not mentioned in my guidebook, but on my map of Korea I noticed several temples and other cultural properties in the vicinity, so I wanted to have a look around.

My first stop was bup-ryun sa, which is a small Buddhist temple in the mountains outside of Seonsan. There is a five story stone pagoda, which is somewhat famous in the region, and two or three halls of worship. To be honest, I didn’t approach any of the halls too closely as I was wearing shorts and decided it would be best to keep a respectful distance. Well, I stayed a few minutes and snapped some pictures and was just about to leave when a Buddhist nun approached me and asked, using hand motions signifying eating, if I’d stay for lunch. Of course I was happy to oblige. So I had bibimbap (rice, vegetables and red pepper sauce) with some Korean Buddhists in what I can only describe as a kind of rectory. On the way to the meal I told the nun, “I’m from America. I live in Gimcheon. I’m an English teacher.” Thereby using three of my four most well rehearsed Korean phrases. If only it had been raining, I could have brought out the fourth one. But given the circumstances it was just as well we had sunny weather.

They were very generous and kept motioning for me to have a little more, long after the point where I was full. After dinner an adjuma (middle-aged Korea woman) brought out a watermelon, squatted down on the floor and proceeded to slice it into small wedges. That, along with various kinds of rice cakes, was dessert. Eventually I excused myself so I could continue my journey. I used another of my phrases and wished them, “Anyongi-gye-sae-yo” (stay in good health), they all in turn wished me, “Anyongi-ga-sae-yo” (Go in good health). With that I was on my way again.

I barely got 300 meters down the road when I saw a sign pointing to the tomb of Ha Wi-ji, so I took a side trip to look at it. About 100 meters up the side road there was a small grave stone and a kind of park, so I assumed that was what I was supposed to be looking at. After a few minutes I was about to leave when a farmer in the distance motioned to me I should go a little further. Despite my motions not to trouble himself (how does one do that anyway?) He came over to me and suggested I follow him, which of course, I did. He took me up the hillside to the real grave of Ha Wi-ji. The marker was written all in Chinese Characters, so to be completely honest, I still have no idea who Ha Wi-ji was or why he is important enough to merit a roadside marker for his tomb. A quick Google search tells me he was a great scholar, but still…

Once again, I was all ready to head down the road, when the farmer invited me to stay for a coffee. I refused at first, which is the polite thing to do, but he insisted so I eventually agreed. It soon became apparent he had an ulterior motive, that being he wanted his 13 year-old daughter to practice her English with me. Well, if that is the price of a tour guide and an iced coffee on a hot day so be it. The daughter was named Eun-ji, which I remember because I have a student in Gimcheon with the same name. She spouted some canned English phrases at me and I replied in like manner. She suddenly, and with no context whatsoever said, “Grand Canyon” to me, so I was able to tell her I grew up near there, or to be more precise, I told her, “Grand Canyon, my hometown-near.” That made her day, if not her entire semester. We made a connection and she was proud of it. Eun-ji then retreated to her house and brought out a map so I could show her exactly what I was talking about. Not a bad moment.

Soon I was on my way again, but all the way to Sang-ju I could barely travel 100 meters without seeing something cool worth stopping for a picture, and for every cool thing I saw, I’m sure there were 10 cool things I missed. That’s how rich in scenery and history this stretch of highway was.

I stopped at one more temple, at the top of a hill and at the end of a very bad road, which was so small it had only one hall. Quite a difference from others I’ve visited in Korea and Japan, which had palatial like complexes of worship halls and cultural artifacts. Before arriving in Sang-ju I also stopped at an old house of some kind that dates back to the 16^th century. Again, I’m not exactly sure of the cultural significance of it—something about the progenitors of the Cho family clan (as in Margaret Cho) —, but I figure a 550 year-old house deserves a drive-by at the very least.

Sang-ju was like Main Street USA, except of course in this case it is Main Street Korea, if there is such a thing. There were big wide avenues coming into town, rice fields on the outskirts, and the agricultural cooperative sitting at the main intersection in the city. I’m not kidding, if you took Seymour, Indiana and made a Korean version of it, you’d have Sang-ju. All that was lacking was a Dairy Queen and the John Mellencamp soundtrack.

Sang-ju back to Gimcheon was an easy 33km. There are a few interesting things along the way, but it was hot, and I was tired by then so I just made the trip in one shot. Along the way it became obvious my trip that day took me on a circle-tour around a mountain. I wish I knew the name, but I don’t. Anyway, it was one of my better days in Korea. There are some incredible things to see in this country, but they are (quite literally) off the beaten path.

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