I got up early (for me) Saturday morning, and headed to Dunkin' Donuts for an ever- so-healthy breakfast of donuts and coffee. As I took a seat, a noisy group of men in blue uniforms came in. They were all rather young and fresh looking, and at first I thought they were military; Busan is a naval port also. Upon closer examination of their uniforms, however, I discovered that these young men were actually policemen. Tall and skinny Korean policemen, but policement nevertheless. In a donut shop. Apparently, it is universal.
Their youth was explained later to me by the posters that boasted, "new police, new start - Dynamic Busan." One of them kept staring at me and nudging his neighbors. I smiled at him and made eye contact; he nervously smiled back, then looked down with a slight flush on his acne-mottled cheeks. It was very endearing, but also pointed to this new force's inexperience.
I heade towards the beach, a soft, cool, mist cloaking the water in a curtain of grey. The threat of rain hung in the air, and a heavy fog began to trickle down. The beach was all but deserted. A softly rounded ajuma meditated quietly. A slender middle-aged woman in a pink sweater dandered along the surf, pausing in reflection from time to time. She looked weary, but not sad. A couple of businessmen sat on the sand, careless of their expensive suits.
These men fascinated me. They were in perfect harmony with each other, in the way that only a long friendship or marriage can bring. They spoke to each other little, but when they did, their tones were warm and nurturing. They grasped each others hands, and slapped each others knees with occasional mirth. They then quieted down, sitting in silent communion with their arms around each others shoulders - a perfect David with his Jonathan.
I wandered north on the boardwalk to see if I could find the "Little Mermaid" statue. It is only mentioned briefly in my guide, and as far as I know, nowhere else. I have always loved this story of unrequited love, so I had to see the Korean version. Copenhagen, Denmark also has a famous mermaid statue in honor of the author of the story. Actually, the guide said the statue was south of the beach "below the cliffs," but I got turned around and headed north by accident. It turned out to be a pleasant, if unintended, detour.
The legend of ancient times tells the heartbroken love story of the Princess of Topaz. The Princess of Topaz was from the "Naranda: country, a country of mermaid, and married the King of Favor from the Mukungnara. She sheds tears of longing for her kingdom, reflected in topaz on each night of the full moon.
As I got closer and closer to the end of the sand, the few people on the beach thinned out. I began moving quicker when a group of noisy school children came to the edge of the water. I watched them and took photos for awhile, then moved on. I passed empty restaurants and kiosks, their owners hopefully glancing at me as I passed. It was lightly sprinkling, and a man "tsk tsk"ed me for not having an umbrella.
I came to a narrow winding street that twisted up from the boardwalk. I held my breath as I passed an area which apparently served as a fish-cleaning station. Idle fishing boats were parked Korean-style, that is, haphazardly, in a small inlet. Some of them were quite derilict, while others seemed more serviceable. I turned back, and meandered my way back to the beach.
Not having forgotten my original purpose, I stopped in an incredibly cheesy tourist shop to get directions. The lady spoke no English, but I bought Andy's joke gift with a grin, followed by some hysterical laughter. The lady looked like she was about to call the police, so I quickly paid and left. She gave me free postcard, I think to ensure I didn't come back.
The information office turned out to be on the other side of the shop, so I went there. The place I wanted to go, Donbaek Island, was closed to tourists because of the APEC summit, but, I was told, if I went with just a camera, they might just let me in. The kind ladies gave me directions to a department store with lockers, but when I got there, no lockers. I decided to try my luck with the guards, so I took a taxi up the hill to the fancy Westin Chosun Hotel on the island.
The island is actually not an island anymore; it was filled in by a land bridge several centuries ago. The guards let me go in the park surprisingly, but only on the outskirts of the island. Men (possibly snipers) in camoflauge squatted in the bushes, their beady eyes glaring out at the families enjoying the summer day. More obvious guards stood at attention around all the important monuments, not allowing people to go down the stairs to get to the rocks and cliffs, or the monuments, for that matter. Hearbreakingly, the Princess of Topaz Mermaid Statue was closed to visitors. It could be seen from a distance, but only just.
I saw the fancy hotel from the other side of the statue, and was struck with inspiration. The hotel property met the beach, so if I went back down to the beach, I could climb up the other way! I finished my tour of the island, and strolled back down to the beach. Sure enough, there was a steep stairway, really a bunch of rocks, with a handrail leading up to the top of the cliffs behind the princess. Maybe I could get a closer shot at the Princess of Topaz. I covered my grungy tourist gear with my nice leather jacket, brushed my hair, and put on my most important stroll. I casually meandered through the hotel property and private to the stairway, and no one stopped me, the "Mission Impossible" theme running through my head... I scrambled up the naturally-made stairs to the top of the cliff, meeting two ajumas selling water along the way. They looked up hopefully at me, but I kept going. Finally, I reached a lookout point, two noisy women chattering on the bench. I peered down, and there she was.
She was very large and beautifully rendered. The artist had taken time to naturally sculpt every scale and angle perfectly. Her face held an expression of deep longing as she gazed into her ball. She blended naturally into the rocks, almost invisible, but for the slightly greenish cast of the bronze. She belonged there, a part of the sea and spray.
Another precarious stairway of rocks led down towards her, so I began clambering down. About halfway down, however, I paused. The Princess of Topaz was not in mourning alone. A well-dressed man in a grey business suit stood on the rocks at her feet, looking out to sea. In his hand, he held a bright bouquet of wedding flowers. His companion, also in a business suit, sat discreetly to the side. The man disappeared in front the statue, and when he came back, the flowers were gone. I did not see whether he laid them at her feet or threw them into the sea as a sacrifice. He then sat on the rocks, tragically alone, and silently smoking a cigarette. I quietly tiptoed back up the stairs to give him his privacy. I had gotten my photos, but I am not sure it was worth the misery of a broken heart.
I headed back to the train station, figuring it was a good place to find better lodging. I checked into the Hotel Ariarang, a place that had seen better days, but it was still quite comfortable. The paint was peeling, and the gold in the elevator was quite startlingly rendered, but I had a porter who showed me my room with much gusto. I had free Internet access, and a coffee shop and restaurant, so I was content.
I decided to take a bus tour of the city, and met up with some very amusing Taiwanese businessmen. Actually, they were engineers. They spoke excellent English, but no Korean. I found myself in the strange position of giving them key survival phrases, and irony that was not lost on me. I also gave them travel tips for Seoul. We all watched the sunset from the top of a mountain. The fishing ships muttered their way home in the dusk, and we could see them all from very high up.
After a rather spicy Korean dinner, I went back to my room. I grew restless, so I went down to the bustling Busan Station Plaza. People came and went from all walks of life, and a group of street preachers gathered to sing praise songs. I genuinely enjoyed hearing praise music sung in Korean, and drew nearer to the group. They stood in a circle of communion, their hands and voices raised to the night sky. The neon lights came on, and this phenmoenon showed how beautifully rendered Busan Station really was. Unfortunately, my mood was shaply broken when a crazy man began harassing people. He saw me, made eye contact, and came purposefully towards me. I got up quickly and melted into the crowd. Crazy people seem to like me.
I watched some television, then went to sleep.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Friday, October 28, 2005
JOURNAL: Looking for Pusan (or Busan) PART II
About two months ago (at least they gave me warning), I was told that I had two days off at the end of October. Although I have vacation days, Korean hagwons dictate when I can and can't take them. I had about 200,000 won to work with, which isn't much. I looked into international flights to other places in Asia, but they were ridiculously out of my price range. Taipei came close, but I decided against it for now.
As I sit here typing, I am in awe about how smoothly this little trip of mine came together, although it did not start out that way. On Tuesday night, I rather randomly decided I would go to Busan, a port city in the southeastern part of South Korea. I wasn't terribly enthusiastic about this, you understand; going from a city of 11 million to a city of 4 million (the second largest in Korea) does not sound like much of a break to anyone, I would imagine. When I announced my intentions to people who asked me where I was going on vacation , many people, even the restaurant guys said, rather tersely, "Why?" Beleive me, I asked the same question. The best I could come up with was, "Because it is there."
I overslept on the morning I was to leave, which was fine, as I had made no reservations whatsoever (too intimidated by my limited Korean). I hopped on the 3:00 KTX train (bullet train). Th ride was pleasant enough, save for one small incident. I was sitting next to a plump ajuma who promptly shut the curtains (she had the window seat) and fell asleep. Too polite (but slightly peeved, nevertheless), I quietly bemoaned my obstructed view and slowly drifted off to sleep. About an hour into the trip, somewhere between sleep and awake, my head was jostled painfully, and a soft pair of hands caressed my forehead, clucking sounds emerging from a disembodied person. I opened my eyes, but saw stars for a few minutes. I finally asked, in English, "What happened?" The ajuma next to me then did a pantomime of a businessman swinging his briefcase a little too freely and clocking me on the head as he "whoosshhh...!" out of the train. The lady was very kind and soothing and I forgave her for obstructing my view of Korea. Finally, 600 km and two and a half hours later, I emerged in Busan.
The terminal for Busan, by the way, is a fantastic display of architecture. The building can be described as somewhere between a football stadium and Chicago O'Hare. This is not as obnoxious as it sounds; somehow, it works. It is especially lovely at night (I can see it from my window right now). There is an urban park and plaza surrounding it, with interesting abstract sculptures, a fountain, and plentiful seating. There are hotels and motels scattered along the busy street, surprisingly reasonably priced, if a bit seedy around the edges.
Tired, and with a headache fast approaching, I decided to take the subway to Haeundae, the beach resort area of the city. As I reasoned, it was off-season, and probably pretty quiet. The tourist information lady gave me a rather condescending and pitying look and suggested I take the bus. I asked about the subway route, which she reluctantly gave me, but warned that there was a transfer involved as well as a 10 minute walk to the beach (oh no, not that!). I set off looking for the bus depot, but found the subway first. The big "transfer" she was worried about was the ONLY transfer on the entire line (I make three transfers just to get downtown Seoul!), which runs in a sideways "X" shape. I made the transfer fine, then managed to get off at the wrong stop. I paid my fare AGAIN (only 1000 Won)and went two more stops.
I came out of the subway, only to find myself on one of those back streets that every tourist dreads, and only the locals know. The street seemed a bit shady at best, but as I got closer to the beach, it got a little better. Although there was quite a bit of activity still going on in the night, it was very peaceful. There were definately some interesting characters about, being a seaport and all, and I saw the first bearded Korean I have ever seen outside of pictures and Korean melodramas (men are meticulously clean-shaven in modern Korea). I clutched my red bag close to me as I wandered the labyrinth of haphazardly planned streets. I stopped at a McDonalds for dinner, then wandered on. I suddenly found myself in a "motel row." This, I must explain, usually means that a redlight district is not far, and I was not disappointed in this guess, as it turned out.
The "love motel" as it is known here, is very cheap and comfortable, if you have the nerve. They are not skanky or dirty by any means, and families will sometimes stay in them "on the cheap" (about $25). Even so, their purpose for existence is somewhat more blatant than most Koreans would like to admit. They are signalled the same way your typical Vegas strip joint is - loud, colorful neon signs, themes (castles with turrets seem to be popular), and titles. I saw the "Relax Motel," the "Queen Motel," the "SandaFe" (oof...bad unintentional pun!), "21 Themes" (hmmm), "The Seventh" (where are 1-6?), and my favorite "Novios" (Spanish for "lovers," but your average Korean wouldn't know that). I avoided these like the plague, as well as some of the seedier unnamed motels. I could see the "Grand Hotel" getting closer, and began contemplating whether my credit card could bear its lofty weight.
Earlier in my wandering, I had noted a nice-looking, but nameless, motel of the amorous type. It was on a busier street, and the lobby (and the $25 price) looked clean and inviting enough. The walls were lined with aquariums; clearly, sea life was the theme. I headed back there after a few more wrong turns, and paused at the door. Well, here goes nothing. I took two steps forward, and stopped dead in my tracks. There, on the threshold, were three folded "calling cards." The photos were similar to the type you find on the back pages of free publications in any major city, "Feel Frieda for free," and the like. The cards were creased in the center and laid neatly, but pointedly, on the doorjamb. My best guess is that this is a signal that the ladies are at "home" but with clients at the moment. Well, I wasn't having THAT! No drunk Korean businessmen for THIS lady.
I stomped away, peeved at my limited choices. I gazed longingly at the "Grand Hotel" again, and inadvertently wandered down a random side street. Suddenly, I saw an "APEC" banner on the side of one of the motels. That sounded promising. The 2005 APEC (Asian Pacific Economic Convention) is meeting in Busan this year to put Busan, already the third largest port in the world, on the map of tourism, so to speak. I followed the banner to the "Lord Beach Hotel" (not "motel"). I presented myself
to the desk clerk, and she issued me a key. The price, although double that of a "love motel," was well worth my security of mind that I would not get molested in the night by a big bottle of soju. The room was neat, clean, and tidy, though a little careworn around the edges. The only reminder of the district I was in came when I reached into the bedstand drawer in search of magazines, and came out with a handful of "Gold Circle" condoms, manufactured in 2001, according to the package (expiration 2006). There was also the telltale big box of Kleenex by the bed. "Well, at least they play it safe," I thought. I had cable t.v., a warm shower, and a comfortable bed. The neon lights from the love motels around the hotel were a little distracting, as well as the drunk businessmen coming out of the bars, but all in all, I spent a quiet, restful night.
As I sit here typing, I am in awe about how smoothly this little trip of mine came together, although it did not start out that way. On Tuesday night, I rather randomly decided I would go to Busan, a port city in the southeastern part of South Korea. I wasn't terribly enthusiastic about this, you understand; going from a city of 11 million to a city of 4 million (the second largest in Korea) does not sound like much of a break to anyone, I would imagine. When I announced my intentions to people who asked me where I was going on vacation , many people, even the restaurant guys said, rather tersely, "Why?" Beleive me, I asked the same question. The best I could come up with was, "Because it is there."
I overslept on the morning I was to leave, which was fine, as I had made no reservations whatsoever (too intimidated by my limited Korean). I hopped on the 3:00 KTX train (bullet train). Th ride was pleasant enough, save for one small incident. I was sitting next to a plump ajuma who promptly shut the curtains (she had the window seat) and fell asleep. Too polite (but slightly peeved, nevertheless), I quietly bemoaned my obstructed view and slowly drifted off to sleep. About an hour into the trip, somewhere between sleep and awake, my head was jostled painfully, and a soft pair of hands caressed my forehead, clucking sounds emerging from a disembodied person. I opened my eyes, but saw stars for a few minutes. I finally asked, in English, "What happened?" The ajuma next to me then did a pantomime of a businessman swinging his briefcase a little too freely and clocking me on the head as he "whoosshhh...!" out of the train. The lady was very kind and soothing and I forgave her for obstructing my view of Korea. Finally, 600 km and two and a half hours later, I emerged in Busan.
The terminal for Busan, by the way, is a fantastic display of architecture. The building can be described as somewhere between a football stadium and Chicago O'Hare. This is not as obnoxious as it sounds; somehow, it works. It is especially lovely at night (I can see it from my window right now). There is an urban park and plaza surrounding it, with interesting abstract sculptures, a fountain, and plentiful seating. There are hotels and motels scattered along the busy street, surprisingly reasonably priced, if a bit seedy around the edges.
Tired, and with a headache fast approaching, I decided to take the subway to Haeundae, the beach resort area of the city. As I reasoned, it was off-season, and probably pretty quiet. The tourist information lady gave me a rather condescending and pitying look and suggested I take the bus. I asked about the subway route, which she reluctantly gave me, but warned that there was a transfer involved as well as a 10 minute walk to the beach (oh no, not that!). I set off looking for the bus depot, but found the subway first. The big "transfer" she was worried about was the ONLY transfer on the entire line (I make three transfers just to get downtown Seoul!), which runs in a sideways "X" shape. I made the transfer fine, then managed to get off at the wrong stop. I paid my fare AGAIN (only 1000 Won)and went two more stops.
I came out of the subway, only to find myself on one of those back streets that every tourist dreads, and only the locals know. The street seemed a bit shady at best, but as I got closer to the beach, it got a little better. Although there was quite a bit of activity still going on in the night, it was very peaceful. There were definately some interesting characters about, being a seaport and all, and I saw the first bearded Korean I have ever seen outside of pictures and Korean melodramas (men are meticulously clean-shaven in modern Korea). I clutched my red bag close to me as I wandered the labyrinth of haphazardly planned streets. I stopped at a McDonalds for dinner, then wandered on. I suddenly found myself in a "motel row." This, I must explain, usually means that a redlight district is not far, and I was not disappointed in this guess, as it turned out.
The "love motel" as it is known here, is very cheap and comfortable, if you have the nerve. They are not skanky or dirty by any means, and families will sometimes stay in them "on the cheap" (about $25). Even so, their purpose for existence is somewhat more blatant than most Koreans would like to admit. They are signalled the same way your typical Vegas strip joint is - loud, colorful neon signs, themes (castles with turrets seem to be popular), and titles. I saw the "Relax Motel," the "Queen Motel," the "SandaFe" (oof...bad unintentional pun!), "21 Themes" (hmmm), "The Seventh" (where are 1-6?), and my favorite "Novios" (Spanish for "lovers," but your average Korean wouldn't know that). I avoided these like the plague, as well as some of the seedier unnamed motels. I could see the "Grand Hotel" getting closer, and began contemplating whether my credit card could bear its lofty weight.
Earlier in my wandering, I had noted a nice-looking, but nameless, motel of the amorous type. It was on a busier street, and the lobby (and the $25 price) looked clean and inviting enough. The walls were lined with aquariums; clearly, sea life was the theme. I headed back there after a few more wrong turns, and paused at the door. Well, here goes nothing. I took two steps forward, and stopped dead in my tracks. There, on the threshold, were three folded "calling cards." The photos were similar to the type you find on the back pages of free publications in any major city, "Feel Frieda for free," and the like. The cards were creased in the center and laid neatly, but pointedly, on the doorjamb. My best guess is that this is a signal that the ladies are at "home" but with clients at the moment. Well, I wasn't having THAT! No drunk Korean businessmen for THIS lady.
I stomped away, peeved at my limited choices. I gazed longingly at the "Grand Hotel" again, and inadvertently wandered down a random side street. Suddenly, I saw an "APEC" banner on the side of one of the motels. That sounded promising. The 2005 APEC (Asian Pacific Economic Convention) is meeting in Busan this year to put Busan, already the third largest port in the world, on the map of tourism, so to speak. I followed the banner to the "Lord Beach Hotel" (not "motel"). I presented myself
to the desk clerk, and she issued me a key. The price, although double that of a "love motel," was well worth my security of mind that I would not get molested in the night by a big bottle of soju. The room was neat, clean, and tidy, though a little careworn around the edges. The only reminder of the district I was in came when I reached into the bedstand drawer in search of magazines, and came out with a handful of "Gold Circle" condoms, manufactured in 2001, according to the package (expiration 2006). There was also the telltale big box of Kleenex by the bed. "Well, at least they play it safe," I thought. I had cable t.v., a warm shower, and a comfortable bed. The neon lights from the love motels around the hotel were a little distracting, as well as the drunk businessmen coming out of the bars, but all in all, I spent a quiet, restful night.
JOURNAL: Oh what a Night! PART I
I have been away from my computer quite a bit this last week, so I apologize for the delay in posting. Things should be calming down now, and I will hopefully be able to post more regularly. I'm afraid this post will be a long one, so bear with me...!
Well, to update:
Last weekend, the recruiter who coerced me into coming to Korea had a big event at Carne Station. We had a scavenger hunt, but that turned out to be a bit more than we bargained for (and the recruiter). Some of the items on the list, shall we say, were a trifle warm...I don't know how people got orange traffic cones and I don't want to know...I met some, well, UNIQUE, people; my partner in the scavenger hunt was very nice, but a trifle bit eccentric (he was wearing a Fredricks of Hollywood lace up shirt!). He had been in Seoul for only three days, and had come from a town of only 25,000 people, so he was a bit shell-shocked by the crowd (and a recent divorce, as it turned out). We did very poorly in the game, as he was new and I was brought up Protestant - no traffic cones, mops, and chairs for us!
The evening went well; I met some Wisconsin folks, which was strangely deja vu of my early college days...especially as the beer (Hite - horse piss at its best!) was flowing freely. I am afraid I overindulged quite a bit; the next thing I remember is salsa-ing at a Mexican-themed bar in Itaewon. Ah, well, you only live once.
Out of this whole deja vu experience, I met a charmingly "shy but open" Connecticut man, and we hit it off rather well. I hope he is reading this...
Well, that is the end of Part I. I am doing this in installments.
Well, to update:
Last weekend, the recruiter who coerced me into coming to Korea had a big event at Carne Station. We had a scavenger hunt, but that turned out to be a bit more than we bargained for (and the recruiter). Some of the items on the list, shall we say, were a trifle warm...I don't know how people got orange traffic cones and I don't want to know...I met some, well, UNIQUE, people; my partner in the scavenger hunt was very nice, but a trifle bit eccentric (he was wearing a Fredricks of Hollywood lace up shirt!). He had been in Seoul for only three days, and had come from a town of only 25,000 people, so he was a bit shell-shocked by the crowd (and a recent divorce, as it turned out). We did very poorly in the game, as he was new and I was brought up Protestant - no traffic cones, mops, and chairs for us!
The evening went well; I met some Wisconsin folks, which was strangely deja vu of my early college days...especially as the beer (Hite - horse piss at its best!) was flowing freely. I am afraid I overindulged quite a bit; the next thing I remember is salsa-ing at a Mexican-themed bar in Itaewon. Ah, well, you only live once.
Out of this whole deja vu experience, I met a charmingly "shy but open" Connecticut man, and we hit it off rather well. I hope he is reading this...
Well, that is the end of Part I. I am doing this in installments.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
JOURNAL: Where There's Fire...
I officially had a very bad, but interesting "movie clip" weekend.
I went to the KOTESOL Conference last Saturday (hence the late posting), and the minute I stepped out of the door, things began to happen. I went down the subway steps to the ATM machine that is right before the turnstiles. The ATM is all in Korean, so I tried my usual suicide cocktail of random buttons to get some cash. None of my usual combinations seemed to work. After about the fifth or sixth rejection of my card, I fiannly got it right, and took our 60,000 won to pay my entrance fee to the conference. At least I think I did. I was very flustered, and it is possible I left the money in the ATM...I hope that is what I did.
For some reason, the trains were running a bit off schedule, and it took me quite a long time to get to my destination - Sukmyung Women's University. At Dongdaemun Station, an obnoxious, loudly singing beggar woman began harassing the crowd delayed by the missing train. She pushed gum into my lap as well as other laps (those of us fortunate enough to have seats), then demanded chun won (about a dollar). I tried to give it back to her, but she put it on my lap again. I said firmy "No, no, no!" but she kept pushing it at me. Finally, the language barrier occured to me, and I said "Anio!" She went to the next person, wailing her song, and I shared a glance of amusement with the women sitting next to me. I felt a little guilty for not giving her anything, but this feeling did not last much longer. The overdue train finally arrived, and I squeezed into a standing room only spot.
From far away, I heard the old woman singing. Suddenly, the singing got louder, and I realized the woman was on the train, walking through the already overcrowded carriages. Sure enough, she came through our carriage, repeating her gum-in-lap routine. She also approached the standing crowd. She approached me again, getting hopelesly hung-up on my large tote-bag...or so I thought. She recognized my face, and, after a hopeful glance, turned to the next carriage.
I was wearing heels, so I was a bit disgruntled to discover that the way to the university was up a steep, worthy-of-San-Francisco, hill. On my way up, I began scoping out possible lunch places. I firmly vetoed "Popeye's Chicken" in my head, but noted a Subway (good in a pinch) and a small bibimbap (Korean stir fry - very delicious) joint behind a boutique that also looked promising. I arrived at the conference very late, but only missed a few seminars.
The line was short for registration, so I got through pretty quickly. A woman asked me if I would like to join KOTESOL (Korean Teachers Of English As a Second Language), and I rather brusquely replied that I would join after the conference if I liked it. I hate pushy people, and in retrospect, regret my answer. In my defense, I was a bit flustered. I registered online, with a little help from the Korean volunteers.
I went to the cashier, and drew out my wallet. I opened it, and discovered all my bills, except for a few thousand won bills, were gone! I looked through my bag, my purse...I looked everywhere, but they were just gone! At this point, I am afraid I broke down and cried, in front of volunteers, staff, and important people. I don't know where it came from; I think it was just all the stress. We all have our embarassing habits, and this is my big burden (my other is calling people by the wrong name!). One of the managers was under the impression that it was stolen at the conference, but I quickly cleared him of that notion. They offered me tea and sympathy. I said just wanted to go back home, but they convinced me otherwise.The ATM on campus was broken (naturally), and the nearest one was down the hill. Another volunteer helped me find it. Upon discussion, I discovered that he was a student at San Jose State University! He even showed me his I.D. (don't even ask me to pronouce his name!). He is an English student there....I spoke to a woman there who wanted to know which academy I worked for. Embarassed about my "losing it" in front of all those people, I blurted out that "I would rather not say," which she took to mean I was embarassed by where I worked (which I am not, by the way), and gave me a mini-lecture on not being ashamed of my workplace. I kept my cool this time, made some lame excuse, and got away.
I got the money, trudged back up the hill (in heels!), and paid my fee. The lady I snapped at earlier apparently was the event coordinator (why, oh why, do I always look like an idiot in front of important people?). I apologized for snapping at her, explaining that I was overwrought. We even had a laugh over the "movie clip" absurdity of the situation. When she saw the name of my institution on my name tag, she seemed to be curious. My academy had no idea I was at the conference, so I was still a little reluctant to say much (not being authorized), but did say that I liked it there,they treat the teachers well, and the students work hard and do well (which they do). I gathered from her response that my institute's franchise (which shall remain nameless to protect the innocent) has an excellent reputation because of how it works, and that there is a lot of curiosity about the "insider view." She asked if I would write an article for the next newsletter, but I gave her a vague "wait and see" answer.
I missed all the morning conferences, so I went back down the hill for lunch. As I walked, I smelled a horrible, acrid aroma coming from futher down the street. I suddenly saw a crowd in the middle of the street, and fire trucks milling around. The mains were open, and there were firemen spraying hoses halfheartedly at a building. As I got closer, I realized the restuarant (and nightclub) where I had palnned to go to lunch was their target! The horrible smell of burning plastic was very overwhelming. I missed the big fire, but the charred remains of the inside of the building were completely under water. The outside was lightly scorched, but the botique had suffered some smoke and water damage (including some of the clothes). I hiked down to Subway, my second choice, but discovered everyone else had the same idea.
Resigned to my fate, I trudged back up the hill to Popeye's Chicken for the first, and I sincerely hope, last time. I chatted with some people in a work-and-get-your-MA-TESOL program, including the director if the university, Mr. Lee (a very pleasant but stern looking man). He seemed interested in me as a potential student, and asked me very leading questions. Truthfully, I don't know what good a second M.A. will do me...It is a thought worth considering if I stay in Korea longer.
The rest of the day went smoothly. I got quite a bit of useful information from the seminars. I was, at, times, overwhelmed by the thirst for knowledge that I have always had. It felt wonderful to be back in classes and learning.
I took a cab to my band rehearsal, and enjoyed all the city lights on my way. Seoul is truly a lovely city at night.After rehearsal, I treated myself to another cab ride back to my side of town and over the Olympic Bridge.
I went to the KOTESOL Conference last Saturday (hence the late posting), and the minute I stepped out of the door, things began to happen. I went down the subway steps to the ATM machine that is right before the turnstiles. The ATM is all in Korean, so I tried my usual suicide cocktail of random buttons to get some cash. None of my usual combinations seemed to work. After about the fifth or sixth rejection of my card, I fiannly got it right, and took our 60,000 won to pay my entrance fee to the conference. At least I think I did. I was very flustered, and it is possible I left the money in the ATM...I hope that is what I did.
For some reason, the trains were running a bit off schedule, and it took me quite a long time to get to my destination - Sukmyung Women's University. At Dongdaemun Station, an obnoxious, loudly singing beggar woman began harassing the crowd delayed by the missing train. She pushed gum into my lap as well as other laps (those of us fortunate enough to have seats), then demanded chun won (about a dollar). I tried to give it back to her, but she put it on my lap again. I said firmy "No, no, no!" but she kept pushing it at me. Finally, the language barrier occured to me, and I said "Anio!" She went to the next person, wailing her song, and I shared a glance of amusement with the women sitting next to me. I felt a little guilty for not giving her anything, but this feeling did not last much longer. The overdue train finally arrived, and I squeezed into a standing room only spot.
From far away, I heard the old woman singing. Suddenly, the singing got louder, and I realized the woman was on the train, walking through the already overcrowded carriages. Sure enough, she came through our carriage, repeating her gum-in-lap routine. She also approached the standing crowd. She approached me again, getting hopelesly hung-up on my large tote-bag...or so I thought. She recognized my face, and, after a hopeful glance, turned to the next carriage.
I was wearing heels, so I was a bit disgruntled to discover that the way to the university was up a steep, worthy-of-San-Francisco, hill. On my way up, I began scoping out possible lunch places. I firmly vetoed "Popeye's Chicken" in my head, but noted a Subway (good in a pinch) and a small bibimbap (Korean stir fry - very delicious) joint behind a boutique that also looked promising. I arrived at the conference very late, but only missed a few seminars.
The line was short for registration, so I got through pretty quickly. A woman asked me if I would like to join KOTESOL (Korean Teachers Of English As a Second Language), and I rather brusquely replied that I would join after the conference if I liked it. I hate pushy people, and in retrospect, regret my answer. In my defense, I was a bit flustered. I registered online, with a little help from the Korean volunteers.
I went to the cashier, and drew out my wallet. I opened it, and discovered all my bills, except for a few thousand won bills, were gone! I looked through my bag, my purse...I looked everywhere, but they were just gone! At this point, I am afraid I broke down and cried, in front of volunteers, staff, and important people. I don't know where it came from; I think it was just all the stress. We all have our embarassing habits, and this is my big burden (my other is calling people by the wrong name!). One of the managers was under the impression that it was stolen at the conference, but I quickly cleared him of that notion. They offered me tea and sympathy. I said just wanted to go back home, but they convinced me otherwise.The ATM on campus was broken (naturally), and the nearest one was down the hill. Another volunteer helped me find it. Upon discussion, I discovered that he was a student at San Jose State University! He even showed me his I.D. (don't even ask me to pronouce his name!). He is an English student there....I spoke to a woman there who wanted to know which academy I worked for. Embarassed about my "losing it" in front of all those people, I blurted out that "I would rather not say," which she took to mean I was embarassed by where I worked (which I am not, by the way), and gave me a mini-lecture on not being ashamed of my workplace. I kept my cool this time, made some lame excuse, and got away.
I got the money, trudged back up the hill (in heels!), and paid my fee. The lady I snapped at earlier apparently was the event coordinator (why, oh why, do I always look like an idiot in front of important people?). I apologized for snapping at her, explaining that I was overwrought. We even had a laugh over the "movie clip" absurdity of the situation. When she saw the name of my institution on my name tag, she seemed to be curious. My academy had no idea I was at the conference, so I was still a little reluctant to say much (not being authorized), but did say that I liked it there,they treat the teachers well, and the students work hard and do well (which they do). I gathered from her response that my institute's franchise (which shall remain nameless to protect the innocent) has an excellent reputation because of how it works, and that there is a lot of curiosity about the "insider view." She asked if I would write an article for the next newsletter, but I gave her a vague "wait and see" answer.
I missed all the morning conferences, so I went back down the hill for lunch. As I walked, I smelled a horrible, acrid aroma coming from futher down the street. I suddenly saw a crowd in the middle of the street, and fire trucks milling around. The mains were open, and there were firemen spraying hoses halfheartedly at a building. As I got closer, I realized the restuarant (and nightclub) where I had palnned to go to lunch was their target! The horrible smell of burning plastic was very overwhelming. I missed the big fire, but the charred remains of the inside of the building were completely under water. The outside was lightly scorched, but the botique had suffered some smoke and water damage (including some of the clothes). I hiked down to Subway, my second choice, but discovered everyone else had the same idea.
Resigned to my fate, I trudged back up the hill to Popeye's Chicken for the first, and I sincerely hope, last time. I chatted with some people in a work-and-get-your-MA-TESOL program, including the director if the university, Mr. Lee (a very pleasant but stern looking man). He seemed interested in me as a potential student, and asked me very leading questions. Truthfully, I don't know what good a second M.A. will do me...It is a thought worth considering if I stay in Korea longer.
The rest of the day went smoothly. I got quite a bit of useful information from the seminars. I was, at, times, overwhelmed by the thirst for knowledge that I have always had. It felt wonderful to be back in classes and learning.
I took a cab to my band rehearsal, and enjoyed all the city lights on my way. Seoul is truly a lovely city at night.After rehearsal, I treated myself to another cab ride back to my side of town and over the Olympic Bridge.
Saturday, October 08, 2005
JOURNAL: Facial Products and Badmitton
Well, I have to say that "gift with purchase" takes on a whole new meaning in Myung Dong. I went to Missha (a Japanese-based company) to restock on facial cleansing products. I bought about 30,000 Won worth, as I had run out of everything all at once. At the register, there were a variety of gifts-with-purchase available - the usual travel kits, mirrors, cosmetics, and carrying cases. Two weeks ago, my friend scored a free umbrella, which was pretty nice, but I have to say that tonight's gifts were even more impressive.
We each received a set of....badmitton rackets! No birdie, just the rackets! They had the name and logo of "Missha" tastefully displayed on the cover (yes, there was a cover)and handles, but they are of decent quality. I have no idea what badmitton has to do with skin care - maybe promoting a way to get that healthy glow? My (Korean) companion and I kept straight faces until we left the store, then laughed ourselves silly.
I also got my hair trimmed today, and I have to say that the salon did a terrific job. Of course, I had a translator, which helped. The stylist was fascinated by my natural curl, incredulous that it was not a "body" (perm). I will make an appointment next week to get my highlights updated.
We each received a set of....badmitton rackets! No birdie, just the rackets! They had the name and logo of "Missha" tastefully displayed on the cover (yes, there was a cover)and handles, but they are of decent quality. I have no idea what badmitton has to do with skin care - maybe promoting a way to get that healthy glow? My (Korean) companion and I kept straight faces until we left the store, then laughed ourselves silly.
I also got my hair trimmed today, and I have to say that the salon did a terrific job. Of course, I had a translator, which helped. The stylist was fascinated by my natural curl, incredulous that it was not a "body" (perm). I will make an appointment next week to get my highlights updated.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
JOURNAL: On Cellphones and Kissing
CELLPHONES
Celphones (han-du-pones in Korean) are ubiquitous, and quite complicated. I have no idea how to text-message, as the instructions are all in Korean, but have received them from a few people. I have a camera on my phone, and, as I recently discovered, a video camera. The problem is, I have no idea how to download them, or transfer them, or whatever. There is a prominent web service provided with the phone ("Nate"), but no English instructions to go with it. My photos are permanently stuck in my phone...Wow, I never thought I would say that...
I love the fact that I am not bound by any contract...or so I thought. I pay 10,000 Won for about 200 minutes, but, as I just found out, there is a catch. At the end of the month, if you do not pay another 10,000 Won, they suspend your service "at the customers request" (how polite) even if you have leftover minutes. The leftover minutes are cummulative, but you still have to pay what amounts to a monthly "fee" of $10. I am not complaining too loudly, as this is still a good bargain, but I wish SK Telecom had told me this information! I now have to search for a local branch where people speak English, as my cell phone is now nonfunctional. To add insult to injury, my landline is now not working - I suspect this is due to the changeover to eight digit phone numbers, in which case my old phone number is now null and void. No one has given me a new phone number, so this is quite frustrating.
KISSING
After observing some Korean television shows, and some discreet "dark places" lovering, I have discovered that Koreans do not know how to kiss. In fact, the way they do kiss looks quite painful. I was musing on this phenomenon whie observing an ad for a sappy Korean soap opera at my favorite, relatively American-style sandwish shop (aside from having eggs and half a head of iceburg in every sandwich). The boy braced himself on top of the girl, in a non-sexual, "cute" way, and proceeded to smash her nose and lips in with his own corresponding parts. His nose ground into hers as he smashed their lips together - I am sure her inner lip was painfully crushed against her teeth. I suspect he may have even drawn blood. There was no movement of heads or lips, just a steady, hard pressure. I cringed for her.
I have observed this in stolen moments not for public view (I seem to stumble on it quite a bit), as P.D.A. is strictly improper, and wonder if anyone asked the question all American adolescents ponder, "Where does the nose go?" I do not see French-kissing (though perhaps that is reserved for behind doors), which is probably a good thing if no one knows where the nose goes...Overrated, anyway - imagine it with kimchi breath! Actually, Koreans are obsessed with oral hygiene; given their diet of strong-smelling (but not necessarily unpleasant) foods.
I have found that many Koreans I have spoken too are, sensually speaking, stuck permanently in middle school, even some of the married ones. The topic is not discussed at all, really, but when it is, it seems to be in hushed tones. Forget sexuality - it is not talked about at all. It is often "Brady Bunch" meets "Sex in the City" in most instances. I actually like this, but on the few occasions the subject comes up, have been put in the awkward position of keeping my knowledge to myself. Most of my sexual knowledge, just for the record, comes from books, public health articles, and listening to people, not from extensive experience.
I do worry sometimes about the contact with Western men. More than one Korean woman I have spoken to has expressed shock when her American/Canadian boyfriend asked her to move in with him...without benefit of marriage. Some of them think that moving in is exactly that - they are not thinking about what usually goes with it. I sometimes want to strangle certain men when they speak of this charming naivete as a good way to "get laid." It's bad enough when they try to pull this on American girls.
Celphones (han-du-pones in Korean) are ubiquitous, and quite complicated. I have no idea how to text-message, as the instructions are all in Korean, but have received them from a few people. I have a camera on my phone, and, as I recently discovered, a video camera. The problem is, I have no idea how to download them, or transfer them, or whatever. There is a prominent web service provided with the phone ("Nate"), but no English instructions to go with it. My photos are permanently stuck in my phone...Wow, I never thought I would say that...
I love the fact that I am not bound by any contract...or so I thought. I pay 10,000 Won for about 200 minutes, but, as I just found out, there is a catch. At the end of the month, if you do not pay another 10,000 Won, they suspend your service "at the customers request" (how polite) even if you have leftover minutes. The leftover minutes are cummulative, but you still have to pay what amounts to a monthly "fee" of $10. I am not complaining too loudly, as this is still a good bargain, but I wish SK Telecom had told me this information! I now have to search for a local branch where people speak English, as my cell phone is now nonfunctional. To add insult to injury, my landline is now not working - I suspect this is due to the changeover to eight digit phone numbers, in which case my old phone number is now null and void. No one has given me a new phone number, so this is quite frustrating.
KISSING
After observing some Korean television shows, and some discreet "dark places" lovering, I have discovered that Koreans do not know how to kiss. In fact, the way they do kiss looks quite painful. I was musing on this phenomenon whie observing an ad for a sappy Korean soap opera at my favorite, relatively American-style sandwish shop (aside from having eggs and half a head of iceburg in every sandwich). The boy braced himself on top of the girl, in a non-sexual, "cute" way, and proceeded to smash her nose and lips in with his own corresponding parts. His nose ground into hers as he smashed their lips together - I am sure her inner lip was painfully crushed against her teeth. I suspect he may have even drawn blood. There was no movement of heads or lips, just a steady, hard pressure. I cringed for her.
I have observed this in stolen moments not for public view (I seem to stumble on it quite a bit), as P.D.A. is strictly improper, and wonder if anyone asked the question all American adolescents ponder, "Where does the nose go?" I do not see French-kissing (though perhaps that is reserved for behind doors), which is probably a good thing if no one knows where the nose goes...Overrated, anyway - imagine it with kimchi breath! Actually, Koreans are obsessed with oral hygiene; given their diet of strong-smelling (but not necessarily unpleasant) foods.
I have found that many Koreans I have spoken too are, sensually speaking, stuck permanently in middle school, even some of the married ones. The topic is not discussed at all, really, but when it is, it seems to be in hushed tones. Forget sexuality - it is not talked about at all. It is often "Brady Bunch" meets "Sex in the City" in most instances. I actually like this, but on the few occasions the subject comes up, have been put in the awkward position of keeping my knowledge to myself. Most of my sexual knowledge, just for the record, comes from books, public health articles, and listening to people, not from extensive experience.
I do worry sometimes about the contact with Western men. More than one Korean woman I have spoken to has expressed shock when her American/Canadian boyfriend asked her to move in with him...without benefit of marriage. Some of them think that moving in is exactly that - they are not thinking about what usually goes with it. I sometimes want to strangle certain men when they speak of this charming naivete as a good way to "get laid." It's bad enough when they try to pull this on American girls.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
JOURNAL: Anyone for Tennis? Enter, a Rant...
This Saturday I went to a tennis match with some of my new Korean friends. Friday night I spent cleaning my apartment in anticipation; I was supposed to go to a party on Friday night, but, after getting soaked to the bone (umbrellas are completely useless in Korea!), decided that coming in to a nice, cozy, dry apartment sounded better...even if it did require remedial cleaning. Well, I digress...
One of my friends from church works for Wilson sports, and gets comp tickets for various important matches. I know nothing about tennis, but figured this was a good opportunity to learn. The rain had stopped in the morning, but it continued intermittently all day. This did not bode well for a tennis match. The match was postponed until the court could dry off, so we went and watched a practice doubles match. The original game rescheduled for three o'clock, so we went over there and observed some sets between Tatiana Golovin (France) and Yelena Jankovic (SCG). We left early due to a prior engagement, but when we left, the games seemed to be evenly matched. Golovin had quite a temper, and it seemed ot interfere with her game. The referee made her cry, even though he was very gentle with her (a cute British man!).
We came back to my apartment for dinner, and the girls took over. We got chicken from down the street, and I fonud out later that the young man behind the counter was absolutely basking in the extra female attention. This particular chain of restaraunts has made several of us Americans ill with food poisoning, so I was a bit leery of his cooking skills. Fortunately he knew his business well, and there were no problems. Meanwhile, back at the apartment,I was much embarassed to discover I was out of handsoap; I had just been using my shower gel until I could get to the market, and completely forgot about the fact that I had guests coming (at least I cleaned!).The girls, although confused, followed suit. I explained what had happened, and they seemed to accept it. For all I know, they now think that using shower gel for handsoap is a pecular American trait...
I am unused to newer acquaintances taking over my kitchen, washing my dishes (after the meal), and laying on my bed. I found out later that this was a very Korean thing. It makes sense, given that the women always clean up after the children and men (perhaps they are the same thing?). I did not get a chance to do much in my own apartment in the way of helping, which rather amused me. The crowding in the kitchen seems to be a culture thing. I don't think it has ever occured to any Korean woman that "Too many cooks spoil the soup." I especially observed this at the picnic.
We then proceeded to our praise and worship service, lead by the 8th Army Worship Team from Youngsan Army base (near Itaewon). They were reasonably good, but I had really come to hear Pastor Jeff Gionnola, who I had met on my Yeon-su trip (see August 2005). He is a chaplain, and is a very funny man from somewhere in New York by his accent. He was our pastor's college roommate, and, after 24 years of separation between them, he was posted here in South Korea.
Although a laid-back and humorous man, his testimony and sermon was very serious and thoughtful. As I listened to him, I thought of the old "hellfire and brimstone" preachers I had heard. Although not nearly as strong (or long-winded) as the good old fashioned Bible-thumpers, there was something in his message that sounded very much like a modern echo. I began thinking about the old breed of preacher as he spoke - this sort of speaking is necessary for lost and lonely soldiers, and Chaplain Gionnola did it in a firm, hard-hitting way. He speaks in a logical, philosophical way, offering hope to the lost and confused.
REBECCA'S RANT: OSTRICH CHRISTIANITY
I have known soldiers, and they go through the period of questioning that all of us who choose college go through. The difference is, they often have less resources than those of us who choose education. The same temptations abound, however, especially around war camps. Look at all of the "pink" activity in Itaewon, and the drinking (ok, that is just Korea!). There are many ways available to kill the pain. Some of the soldiers read extensively; after all, what else is there to do? Books are portable! This is both a good and a bad thing. Many of them face death or the possibility of extermination by an unknowable enemy. Modern war is faceless and methodical, but humans are not meant to be that way.
I find that many so-called Christians deny the existence of pain, and this is an enormous fallacy. I have heard Christian men say (on different occasions)that female victims of rape,incest, or former promiscuity should never marry because they are all bitter and "spoiled," to which I answer "Get over it!" You are all sinners too, and should not be so choosy or narrow-minded. God will work within her as he does within you. The truth is, in modern society, it is rare to find a woman who has not been touched by sexual crime or misjudgement. I have been watching "Sex and the City" epiodes to get a feel of what "the world" is up to, and now know what to fight; can you say the same? Certain Christian politicians (and people) have said that poor people do not deserve social services becuase they are "lazy" and just need to get up off their butts. We all suffer pain; it is part of the society we live in. Christians who hide from the world stand a good chance of falling victim to it - know thy enemy, because naivete is deadly. Many Christians blame the victim, but this is something that the world does, and the church should have no part of it. I cannot abide Christians who constantly blame the victim or hide from the world; these are Satan's best tools.
If you are willing to keep an open mind, her is a completely subjective list of media that I feel explain sufficiently what we are up against:
Teenagers: Movies - Thirteen (teenage girls, sex, and body image - if you can stand it, watch it with your daughters, because it was written by a 15 year old about her real life),Donnie Darko (teenagers and school), Cruel Intentions (teenagers and sex - an older movie, but still relevant)
Teenagers: Music - Evanescence/Fallen (teen angst), Linkin' Park, any rap music (main audience is WASP boys!), Brittany Spears (still idolized by pre-teens)
Teenagers: TV - whatever your teenager might watch "on the sly" (or even up front) - you know what I mean!
Generation X (1969-1976 born/30 somethings)
Musical: Rent (Pulitzer prize - AIDS, homosexuality, poverty, and philosophy)
Movies: Angels in America - Reagan-era, homosexuality, agnosicism, and post modernism - see where they have lead us. Warning - contains explicit homosexuality (close your eyes, but listen to the dialogue, it's important), Empire Records (funny, but pointed), Dirty Dancing (remember the furor?! Trust me, we all saw it!), In and Out, KIDS
TV: Sex and the City (the modern trials of being a woman in a sexually confusing era), Will and Grace (homosexuality)
One of my friends from church works for Wilson sports, and gets comp tickets for various important matches. I know nothing about tennis, but figured this was a good opportunity to learn. The rain had stopped in the morning, but it continued intermittently all day. This did not bode well for a tennis match. The match was postponed until the court could dry off, so we went and watched a practice doubles match. The original game rescheduled for three o'clock, so we went over there and observed some sets between Tatiana Golovin (France) and Yelena Jankovic (SCG). We left early due to a prior engagement, but when we left, the games seemed to be evenly matched. Golovin had quite a temper, and it seemed ot interfere with her game. The referee made her cry, even though he was very gentle with her (a cute British man!).
We came back to my apartment for dinner, and the girls took over. We got chicken from down the street, and I fonud out later that the young man behind the counter was absolutely basking in the extra female attention. This particular chain of restaraunts has made several of us Americans ill with food poisoning, so I was a bit leery of his cooking skills. Fortunately he knew his business well, and there were no problems. Meanwhile, back at the apartment,I was much embarassed to discover I was out of handsoap; I had just been using my shower gel until I could get to the market, and completely forgot about the fact that I had guests coming (at least I cleaned!).The girls, although confused, followed suit. I explained what had happened, and they seemed to accept it. For all I know, they now think that using shower gel for handsoap is a pecular American trait...
I am unused to newer acquaintances taking over my kitchen, washing my dishes (after the meal), and laying on my bed. I found out later that this was a very Korean thing. It makes sense, given that the women always clean up after the children and men (perhaps they are the same thing?). I did not get a chance to do much in my own apartment in the way of helping, which rather amused me. The crowding in the kitchen seems to be a culture thing. I don't think it has ever occured to any Korean woman that "Too many cooks spoil the soup." I especially observed this at the picnic.
We then proceeded to our praise and worship service, lead by the 8th Army Worship Team from Youngsan Army base (near Itaewon). They were reasonably good, but I had really come to hear Pastor Jeff Gionnola, who I had met on my Yeon-su trip (see August 2005). He is a chaplain, and is a very funny man from somewhere in New York by his accent. He was our pastor's college roommate, and, after 24 years of separation between them, he was posted here in South Korea.
Although a laid-back and humorous man, his testimony and sermon was very serious and thoughtful. As I listened to him, I thought of the old "hellfire and brimstone" preachers I had heard. Although not nearly as strong (or long-winded) as the good old fashioned Bible-thumpers, there was something in his message that sounded very much like a modern echo. I began thinking about the old breed of preacher as he spoke - this sort of speaking is necessary for lost and lonely soldiers, and Chaplain Gionnola did it in a firm, hard-hitting way. He speaks in a logical, philosophical way, offering hope to the lost and confused.
REBECCA'S RANT: OSTRICH CHRISTIANITY
I have known soldiers, and they go through the period of questioning that all of us who choose college go through. The difference is, they often have less resources than those of us who choose education. The same temptations abound, however, especially around war camps. Look at all of the "pink" activity in Itaewon, and the drinking (ok, that is just Korea!). There are many ways available to kill the pain. Some of the soldiers read extensively; after all, what else is there to do? Books are portable! This is both a good and a bad thing. Many of them face death or the possibility of extermination by an unknowable enemy. Modern war is faceless and methodical, but humans are not meant to be that way.
I find that many so-called Christians deny the existence of pain, and this is an enormous fallacy. I have heard Christian men say (on different occasions)that female victims of rape,incest, or former promiscuity should never marry because they are all bitter and "spoiled," to which I answer "Get over it!" You are all sinners too, and should not be so choosy or narrow-minded. God will work within her as he does within you. The truth is, in modern society, it is rare to find a woman who has not been touched by sexual crime or misjudgement. I have been watching "Sex and the City" epiodes to get a feel of what "the world" is up to, and now know what to fight; can you say the same? Certain Christian politicians (and people) have said that poor people do not deserve social services becuase they are "lazy" and just need to get up off their butts. We all suffer pain; it is part of the society we live in. Christians who hide from the world stand a good chance of falling victim to it - know thy enemy, because naivete is deadly. Many Christians blame the victim, but this is something that the world does, and the church should have no part of it. I cannot abide Christians who constantly blame the victim or hide from the world; these are Satan's best tools.
If you are willing to keep an open mind, her is a completely subjective list of media that I feel explain sufficiently what we are up against:
Teenagers: Movies - Thirteen (teenage girls, sex, and body image - if you can stand it, watch it with your daughters, because it was written by a 15 year old about her real life),Donnie Darko (teenagers and school), Cruel Intentions (teenagers and sex - an older movie, but still relevant)
Teenagers: Music - Evanescence/Fallen (teen angst), Linkin' Park, any rap music (main audience is WASP boys!), Brittany Spears (still idolized by pre-teens)
Teenagers: TV - whatever your teenager might watch "on the sly" (or even up front) - you know what I mean!
Generation X (1969-1976 born/30 somethings)
Musical: Rent (Pulitzer prize - AIDS, homosexuality, poverty, and philosophy)
Movies: Angels in America - Reagan-era, homosexuality, agnosicism, and post modernism - see where they have lead us. Warning - contains explicit homosexuality (close your eyes, but listen to the dialogue, it's important), Empire Records (funny, but pointed), Dirty Dancing (remember the furor?! Trust me, we all saw it!), In and Out, KIDS
TV: Sex and the City (the modern trials of being a woman in a sexually confusing era), Will and Grace (homosexuality)
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