There are many good reasons for visitors not to get into trouble in foreign lands. You can't speak the language, the government doesn't have any reason to listen to you, and you may or may not be given a fair hearing. These are basic things anyone travelling should be well aware of before trying to upset the locals. But what if the combatants are foreigners?
First of all, I was only there for the first part of the "incident." The rest was told to me by eye-witnesses; under cross-examination, their stories all checked with each other, so I am inclined to believe what happened, given my own experience earlier that evening.
One of my coworkers was having her birthday party in Apkujeong. Apkujeong, I must explain, is a district (sometimes called "Rodeo Drive") where the rich, famous, and trendy Seoulites (and others) like to shop, get plastic surgery, and drink. Overpriced botiques abound, overabundantly filled with the REAL Prada, Calvin Klein, Chanel, and Louis Vutton products that those-who-have love to purchase. I myself own some very nice fakes; my $10 "Prada" purse has more than once been taken for the real thing. Actually, I didn't even know it was a "Prada" until someone told me so; I just liked the interesting design (aligator leather, spikes, and a bow!). My rhinestone "diamond" Chanel watch also has passed muster.
You can also, for a reasonable price, get a "packagee" (Konglish), which I beleive includes a nose job, eye fold removal surgery (to look more Western - actually, it just makes Asians look permanently surprised) and Botox (ditto). The Deluxe Packagee includes a boob job. Hmmm....maybe I can get my extra "chin" (which I had even when ridiculously skinny) removed...
I have only been in Apkujeong a couple of times, but I have generally found the place a bit pretentious; I paid 10,000 won ($10) for an elaborately-presented fancy mug of...pre-powdered hot chocolate. Nevertheless, I decided to swallow my pride and go to the party at an Apkujeong club called "The Garden." I like this particular coworker quite a bit, and, even though still recovering from my bout with pnewmonia, I decided it was worth it to go.
I arrived there and my coworker's boyfriend, a very handsome and outgoing young man (especially for a Korean) graciously showed me the way. We went through what seemed to be a maze of stairs and hallways to a small club in the basement. It was nothing grand, but not a dive either. We went up another staircase, and into a room with chairs and tables behind a glass wall. You could look down at the dancers on the floor from behind the glass. These rooms completely encircled the dance floor, but the noise level was much more conducive for talking.
Ladies got in free, and after 11, drinks were two for one. I later discovered that this special did not include water...I asked for bottled water, but the bartender heard "Budweiser." I tried to argue with her, but she just looked puzzled, then feigned that she did not speak English (I heard her later doing just that). I HATE Budweiser, and I only really wanted water, but it was cold, and strangely refreshing. In for a penny, in for a pound, and I nursed two Long-Island Iced teas for three hours. My big meal helped with this. At the price, I figured they were charging me for two anyways.
With all the "let's go clubbing" talk going around earlier, no one actually danced. There were surprisingly many foreigners of many different nationalities mingling freely and speaking English. There were a few handsome Persian businessmen, a Spainiard, a random Indian or two, and a couple of Russians. There were decidedly more men than women; most of the women were in fact, in our group. Many of my coworkers are very attractive women in their own right, but they are not fashionably so. One girl is blond, strongly built, and well over 6 foot three. She has a vivacious personality which makes her beautiful in many conventional men's eyes. We had a red-head, a brunette with pale skin, and various Korean girls whom I didn't know. I felt like a dud, actually.
One of the Korean women (forgot her name) turned out to be the sister of my trainer at the gym, and she was a stunner. Tall, slim, and with long black hair, she OWNED the room. She was completely low-key and down to earth; I chatted with her for some time, and found that she was very likeable. She spoke English with an Australian accent, which made her all the more charming. What really stood out was that she was tanned, and looked more Italian than Korean. Her brother is also dark (Koreans are light-complected). She was definately getting some looks, but didn't appear to be too interested.
I wandered about aimlessly; no one was looking at me after all, so I felt free to look at the "pretty people" in relative silence. Suddenly, one of my coworkers came charging up the stairs and said, "You'll never guess who just walked in!"
"Who?"
"A group of women with legs up to HERE!" indicating her neck (she is shorter than I am).
With nothing better to do, I followed her down. Sure enough, a group of very tall, anorexically thin, and leggy Caucasian women stood in a group at the foot of the stairs. I observed them for awhile, and discovered they were speaking Russian. A well-groomed, well-muscled man ordered them about (in Russian), and they moved quickly and efficiently in their tight little group onto the dance floor. Eyes bulged and tongues panted out, but the ladies kept to themselves. I later learned that they were Russian models, presumably doing a shoot in Seoul.
I ran into them in the bathroom several times (side effect of the antibiotics). The
models obsessed over make-up, adjusting clothing lines, and looking snooty at the "commoners" using the stalls. I kept seeing one blonde in there - her barely present blouse kept riding up, exposing her prominent rib-cage and immaculately-waxed bikini line. She looked very hungry, and I felt a bit sorry for her. Until I ran into her alone.
On my last trip to the bathroom, I pulled out a lipstick. I discovered, to my horror, that it was REALLY the wrong shade, but, as I reasoned, the club was dark and no one would notice. Nevertheless, I went to one of the many mirrors in the trendy bathroom (think "Saturday Night Fever") and applied the pale shade as darkly as I could. I leaned over the sink, and suddenly realized that the girl was watching me. She was very tall, and towered over me in her spike heels. Not one word was exchanged, but she glared down at me with contempt. Her look confounded me, as I had not said a word to her, but it soon became apparent what the trouble was. The common little pansy was overshadowed by the brilliant and showy geranium, but dared to smile in the glow of her too-brilliant plummage. I calmly went about making my modest toilette; the queen would have to wait for her mirror (or use one of the other dozen in the room). I took my time, then left.
I left the club shortly after that; I do not belong in the world of pretty people. The girls in our group also elected to leave, and head for the college-town Hongdae club district. I made my excuses and taxied home.
Apparently, I missed the real fun. The group stayed out until 7 a.m., and a few of them spent some time in the police station. The beautiful Korean girl from Australia had apparently had one too many suitors, at least, until her burly trainer-brother showed up. The scuttlebutt is that he was VERY protective of his little sister, but also left before she did.
The lead up to the "main event" is a little hazy, as most people there were well in their cups, but at some point ANOTHER group of Russian women turned up. These ladies, it soon became apparent, were practitioners of the oldest trade in the world, and one of them did not take the unintentional competition from a pretty Korean girl well. The woman "accidentally" scratched the Korean girl on her face. Korean girl did not fight back, but calmly and collectedly asked for an apology. The woman absolutely refused, and Korean girl, after several more reasonable attempts to make peace rather than pick a fight, called the police. The "lady" called her "brother" from the police station, and when he came to pay the fine levied against her for public disturbance, absolutely berated and yelled at her. He forced the woman to apologize to the Korean girl, then carried his "sister" away, still spitting angry.
I am very glad, when it comes down to it, that I have a lawyer-friend who speaks the language; nevertheless, I hope I never find myself in that situation.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Monday, April 10, 2006
JOURNAL: Miracle of Life?
Something that keeps coming up at the oddest moments has finally provoked me to discuss a subject I have broached before. I bring it up again because a. it both puzzles me and frightenes me and b. it keeps coming up in my conversations with Korean women. Call me Margaret Meade. It is Korean men and women's ignorance about their own bodies.
Remember that, just a few months ago, there was a scandal attached to a professor at a prestigious university in Seoul, a man who fudged his own research in regards to stem-cell research. How did this fact get by so many people on his project? You may well ask. Given the complete ignorance about human reproduction I have encountered among well-educated and otherwise intelligent Korean adults, I am no longer surprised. This does not even only cover the more...er...earthly aspects, I am talking simple cell division, DNA, and the life cycle of cells.
First, let us discuss the touchy issue of sex education in American public schools. I see nothing wrong with teaching a few basic facts about how babies are made, birth-control, and the amazing miracle of conception; someone likened it to the odds of 1078 blind people solving a Rubik's cube at the same exact moment!By about fifth grade, the average American child (especially if they have cable tv) has a rough idea about where babies come from. The details are a little hazy; this can be problem if incorrect guidance is provided through the dubious avenuse of peers, television, or older siblings. Educators are well-trained to deal with the more technical aspects, and should be given a chance to offer cold, hard facts. What my parents didn't cover I learned through my sixth grade science teacher.
My parents were quite open all through my childhood about information concerning where babies come from, though I was a bit confused about when my mother told me (at age 8) that some women "sold their body to men." I innocently thought this was a good thing; there are many accident victims out there missing body parts after all who might want a new arm or leg. But I digress... My point being I had a general idea of what went where, and that what went up must come down...presto chango - a new life.
My church took our sixth grade girl's group through the ubiqitous (in the fundamentalist Christian childhood of the 80s) Dr. Jame's Dobson's "Preparing for Adolescence." I was already prematurely developed, so none of the information about periods, breasts, or copulation was new to me. He was very vague on spiritual issues, I found, and I'm afraid he left me more confused than enlightened. That was my problem with Fundamental Baptist Christianity, "Because God said so."
The other milestone of my knowledge was a video shown on NOVA in the mid-eighties. I had a childhood addiction to science programs, and my mother watched this "new documentary" with me; I must have been about 8 or 9. It was, as you may have guessed, "The Miracle of Life," a still-wonderful and astounding video of the process of life from conception to birth. There was nothing titilating or sexy about it; we watch the sex act from INSIDE the woman rather than externally, though the film ends in a graphic filming of the birth of this being we have watched from conception to live birth. The photography is astounding, and it is because of this film I became rather strongly pro-life (except in cases of danger to mother).
The film was remade with updated technology in 2001, and was retitled "Life's Greatest Miracle." You can watch the new version at:
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/miracle/
It has a TV-14 rating, so it is pretty safe.
In sixth grade public school, we separated boys from girls in Health class, and were allowed to ask questions. We did group work together on diagramming the reproduction system, and we were given a basic knowledge of the hydraulics (male) and receptors (female) involved in conception. No specific moralizing was done except to remind us that this sort of activity created pregnancy; we listned to a teenage mother speak about her experiences to drive home the point. Most of the education was basic - how to take care of your smelly, awkward, and weirdly-functioning adolescent body, why boys were weird, why girls were moody, how not to annoy each other too much, and group dating (in the late 80s, this was considered a safe way to interact between the sexes during the tween years without getting into too much trouble.)
In ninth grade biology, we went into more detail of the science of reproduction. We watched the "Miracle of Life" again, but, as I was in a prviate school, a little moralizing was done, albeit in a strange way. I had already seen the documentary, so I was unperturbed by the live birth scene. Some of my classmates, however, were quite traumatized. Instead of taking compassion on these poor girls, who never even knew how babies got into their belly, seeing one come out (remember, men, girls can't see their equipment without being trained contortioist with a hand-mirror) was quite frightening. Some of the girls cried or covered their eyes; the boys snickered or blushed. The teacher, instead of taking compassion on these students, rewound the tape, and played the live birth scene TWICE MORE. He then quietly said, "This is why you don't have sex before you are married." His point worked, because we only had two pregnancies in the class of 1994.
So, what kind of education do they get in Korea? Nothing. Nada. Zip. At least, as near as I can tell.
I spoke to a forty-something unmarried woman, who had only a vague sense as to how children came into this world. She was not embarrassed; she simply did not have a clue. This came out after a vague reference from a gyopo (Korean American) to the process of childbirth. None of the women (singles) even knew what he was talking about. I thought it was odd, but continued the conversation in another direction (defending a woman's right to gossip!) with the young man. The single older women looked puzzled, and I hesitatingly asked if they knew what we were talking about. They admitted that they were clueless. I gently explained that in some Western cultures, childbirth is openly discussed among women of a certain age, whether they have had children or not. Any gathering of close female friends will result in some discussion of this subject (see "Sex and the City"); in married women, it tends to be childbirth-oriented, rather than process-related. I then bluntly asked the oldest woman if she had ever learned about or seen a baby born. She said she hadn't. This conversation happened months ago, but it stuck in my head.
A rather Westernized Korean male friend of mine brought up the subject in a recent phone conversation. This person learned the facts of life through looking up things in the encyclopedia! No one told him why his body was acting crazy so he decided to find out. This man is well-educated and intelligent, so I was a bit taken aback when he asked what happened to the cord after birth. Where did it go? I was puzzled by this question for a minute.
"Does it go back up inside the woman?"
"WHAT?! You mean, you don't know? Where do you think we get a belly button?"
That stumped him.
"The cord comes out with the afterbirth...." I prompted.
Silence.
(What's that? He wondered).
Exasperated by this hole in his education (and slightly amused) I patiently and thoroughly explained the process in very scientific detail. I can't imagine going through thirty-something years of life wondering vaguely, how does the baby eat inside the mother? Why do we have belly buttons?
I then began to wonder about other adults. I got a clue tonight in my sixth grade writing class. A few of the kids who have been American-educated do know basics; I try to keep the topic out of my classroom, but it does spring up in odd ways. Kids are very curious at that age, and Korea does them a great disservice by not explaining things. I have developing adolescents in grade five as well (they start school a little later) so these poor children must be traumatized by their crazy bodies. Tonight we were talking about where people were born. Some were born in Korea, but others were born in America or Europe. One girl piped up and said,
"I was born three weeks early."
"Oh really?"
"Yes, I was born at nine months, not ten."
I absently corrected her.
"Then you were born on time. Women carry babies for nine months."
"No. Babies are inside their mother's stomachs for ten months. I was too early, and they had to cut my mother open to get me out."
To my surprise, other girls in the room agreed with her about ten months. Now, I know Koreans reckon birthdays differently (you are considered a year old when you are born) but they count months the same way. Another girl piped in and said,
"Yeah. My mother and father didn't even have birth dreams before I was born."
Puzzled, I asked her what she meant.
"You know, when you dream that you are going to have a baby. How else are you going to know you are pregnant?" (Uh, big stomach?)
One girl described seeing a woman give birth on a plane; the baby came out from under the woman's skirt after a burst of water. That must have been a sight for a child.
I abruptly changed the subject to get out of the danger zone; this particular group really trusts me and confides in me, and I was afraid of the trouble I could get in. They do not hesistate to ask awkward questions.
Given the stigma attached to unwed pregnancy, it seems to me Korea should focus on arming its teenagers against ignorant mistakes. Unwanted babies are simply aborted, but if young women don't know how they get pregnant in the first place, shouldn't they be told?
I have seen more than one late night "alternative" Korean movie about the trauma of an unwanted pregnancy. A high school girl, upon hearing the news, jumps headfirst off a school building while her classmates watch in calm disdain. A guilty young father tries to raise money for an abortion. He is too late however; his girlfriend aborts herself in a bathroom stall, and dies in his arms.
One movie in particular haunted me. In it, a girl goes into a rather dingy abortion clinic. She lays on the table in her hospital gown in a dark room. The camera follows her eye movements; she scans the room, the tray of instruments, the monitor, and finally she comes to rest on the suction pail for almost a full minute. Her eyes go wide, and a silent tear rolls down her cheek. Blackout. The movie follows her with compassion as she recovers; the best friend of her boyfriend cooks seaweed soup for her (a Korean remedy for childbirth - very nutritious I am told), entertains her, and even changes her sheets. She is silent for most of the rest of the movie. Naturally, the boyfriend is nowhere to be found.
The Korean government keeps harping on the "low birthrate" in the country. Women are waiting to have children like their American counterparts, so the government is sponsoring incentives to promote pregnancy. Nature always finds a way to bring life, but I question how much of it might be snuffed out before it begins. It seems to me that knowing how the body works might be one way to control this problem. American women, for example, know that there is a window of time in their cycle where they are likely to get pregnant. Accordingly, they adjust their nocturnal activities to either avoid the danger zone, or embrace it. Would this scientific knowledge help at all? On the other hand, STDs are the lowest in the world; I suspect this is because they go unreported. There is qutie a bit of marital unfaithfulness going on. How many women are infected, don't know it (no one goes to the OB/GYN unless they are pregnant), and are accordingly infertile due to their spouse's unfaithfulness?
Public health campaigns work WELL here. Children and adults dutifully march to the bathroom with their toothbrushes after every meal, diet crazes are obsessively followed (I love the sweet potato diet!), and everyone takes their vitamins. Maybe a public health campaign for reproductive issues might be in order.
Remember that, just a few months ago, there was a scandal attached to a professor at a prestigious university in Seoul, a man who fudged his own research in regards to stem-cell research. How did this fact get by so many people on his project? You may well ask. Given the complete ignorance about human reproduction I have encountered among well-educated and otherwise intelligent Korean adults, I am no longer surprised. This does not even only cover the more...er...earthly aspects, I am talking simple cell division, DNA, and the life cycle of cells.
First, let us discuss the touchy issue of sex education in American public schools. I see nothing wrong with teaching a few basic facts about how babies are made, birth-control, and the amazing miracle of conception; someone likened it to the odds of 1078 blind people solving a Rubik's cube at the same exact moment!By about fifth grade, the average American child (especially if they have cable tv) has a rough idea about where babies come from. The details are a little hazy; this can be problem if incorrect guidance is provided through the dubious avenuse of peers, television, or older siblings. Educators are well-trained to deal with the more technical aspects, and should be given a chance to offer cold, hard facts. What my parents didn't cover I learned through my sixth grade science teacher.
My parents were quite open all through my childhood about information concerning where babies come from, though I was a bit confused about when my mother told me (at age 8) that some women "sold their body to men." I innocently thought this was a good thing; there are many accident victims out there missing body parts after all who might want a new arm or leg. But I digress... My point being I had a general idea of what went where, and that what went up must come down...presto chango - a new life.
My church took our sixth grade girl's group through the ubiqitous (in the fundamentalist Christian childhood of the 80s) Dr. Jame's Dobson's "Preparing for Adolescence." I was already prematurely developed, so none of the information about periods, breasts, or copulation was new to me. He was very vague on spiritual issues, I found, and I'm afraid he left me more confused than enlightened. That was my problem with Fundamental Baptist Christianity, "Because God said so."
The other milestone of my knowledge was a video shown on NOVA in the mid-eighties. I had a childhood addiction to science programs, and my mother watched this "new documentary" with me; I must have been about 8 or 9. It was, as you may have guessed, "The Miracle of Life," a still-wonderful and astounding video of the process of life from conception to birth. There was nothing titilating or sexy about it; we watch the sex act from INSIDE the woman rather than externally, though the film ends in a graphic filming of the birth of this being we have watched from conception to live birth. The photography is astounding, and it is because of this film I became rather strongly pro-life (except in cases of danger to mother).
The film was remade with updated technology in 2001, and was retitled "Life's Greatest Miracle." You can watch the new version at:
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/miracle/
It has a TV-14 rating, so it is pretty safe.
In sixth grade public school, we separated boys from girls in Health class, and were allowed to ask questions. We did group work together on diagramming the reproduction system, and we were given a basic knowledge of the hydraulics (male) and receptors (female) involved in conception. No specific moralizing was done except to remind us that this sort of activity created pregnancy; we listned to a teenage mother speak about her experiences to drive home the point. Most of the education was basic - how to take care of your smelly, awkward, and weirdly-functioning adolescent body, why boys were weird, why girls were moody, how not to annoy each other too much, and group dating (in the late 80s, this was considered a safe way to interact between the sexes during the tween years without getting into too much trouble.)
In ninth grade biology, we went into more detail of the science of reproduction. We watched the "Miracle of Life" again, but, as I was in a prviate school, a little moralizing was done, albeit in a strange way. I had already seen the documentary, so I was unperturbed by the live birth scene. Some of my classmates, however, were quite traumatized. Instead of taking compassion on these poor girls, who never even knew how babies got into their belly, seeing one come out (remember, men, girls can't see their equipment without being trained contortioist with a hand-mirror) was quite frightening. Some of the girls cried or covered their eyes; the boys snickered or blushed. The teacher, instead of taking compassion on these students, rewound the tape, and played the live birth scene TWICE MORE. He then quietly said, "This is why you don't have sex before you are married." His point worked, because we only had two pregnancies in the class of 1994.
So, what kind of education do they get in Korea? Nothing. Nada. Zip. At least, as near as I can tell.
I spoke to a forty-something unmarried woman, who had only a vague sense as to how children came into this world. She was not embarrassed; she simply did not have a clue. This came out after a vague reference from a gyopo (Korean American) to the process of childbirth. None of the women (singles) even knew what he was talking about. I thought it was odd, but continued the conversation in another direction (defending a woman's right to gossip!) with the young man. The single older women looked puzzled, and I hesitatingly asked if they knew what we were talking about. They admitted that they were clueless. I gently explained that in some Western cultures, childbirth is openly discussed among women of a certain age, whether they have had children or not. Any gathering of close female friends will result in some discussion of this subject (see "Sex and the City"); in married women, it tends to be childbirth-oriented, rather than process-related. I then bluntly asked the oldest woman if she had ever learned about or seen a baby born. She said she hadn't. This conversation happened months ago, but it stuck in my head.
A rather Westernized Korean male friend of mine brought up the subject in a recent phone conversation. This person learned the facts of life through looking up things in the encyclopedia! No one told him why his body was acting crazy so he decided to find out. This man is well-educated and intelligent, so I was a bit taken aback when he asked what happened to the cord after birth. Where did it go? I was puzzled by this question for a minute.
"Does it go back up inside the woman?"
"WHAT?! You mean, you don't know? Where do you think we get a belly button?"
That stumped him.
"The cord comes out with the afterbirth...." I prompted.
Silence.
(What's that? He wondered).
Exasperated by this hole in his education (and slightly amused) I patiently and thoroughly explained the process in very scientific detail. I can't imagine going through thirty-something years of life wondering vaguely, how does the baby eat inside the mother? Why do we have belly buttons?
I then began to wonder about other adults. I got a clue tonight in my sixth grade writing class. A few of the kids who have been American-educated do know basics; I try to keep the topic out of my classroom, but it does spring up in odd ways. Kids are very curious at that age, and Korea does them a great disservice by not explaining things. I have developing adolescents in grade five as well (they start school a little later) so these poor children must be traumatized by their crazy bodies. Tonight we were talking about where people were born. Some were born in Korea, but others were born in America or Europe. One girl piped up and said,
"I was born three weeks early."
"Oh really?"
"Yes, I was born at nine months, not ten."
I absently corrected her.
"Then you were born on time. Women carry babies for nine months."
"No. Babies are inside their mother's stomachs for ten months. I was too early, and they had to cut my mother open to get me out."
To my surprise, other girls in the room agreed with her about ten months. Now, I know Koreans reckon birthdays differently (you are considered a year old when you are born) but they count months the same way. Another girl piped in and said,
"Yeah. My mother and father didn't even have birth dreams before I was born."
Puzzled, I asked her what she meant.
"You know, when you dream that you are going to have a baby. How else are you going to know you are pregnant?" (Uh, big stomach?)
One girl described seeing a woman give birth on a plane; the baby came out from under the woman's skirt after a burst of water. That must have been a sight for a child.
I abruptly changed the subject to get out of the danger zone; this particular group really trusts me and confides in me, and I was afraid of the trouble I could get in. They do not hesistate to ask awkward questions.
Given the stigma attached to unwed pregnancy, it seems to me Korea should focus on arming its teenagers against ignorant mistakes. Unwanted babies are simply aborted, but if young women don't know how they get pregnant in the first place, shouldn't they be told?
I have seen more than one late night "alternative" Korean movie about the trauma of an unwanted pregnancy. A high school girl, upon hearing the news, jumps headfirst off a school building while her classmates watch in calm disdain. A guilty young father tries to raise money for an abortion. He is too late however; his girlfriend aborts herself in a bathroom stall, and dies in his arms.
One movie in particular haunted me. In it, a girl goes into a rather dingy abortion clinic. She lays on the table in her hospital gown in a dark room. The camera follows her eye movements; she scans the room, the tray of instruments, the monitor, and finally she comes to rest on the suction pail for almost a full minute. Her eyes go wide, and a silent tear rolls down her cheek. Blackout. The movie follows her with compassion as she recovers; the best friend of her boyfriend cooks seaweed soup for her (a Korean remedy for childbirth - very nutritious I am told), entertains her, and even changes her sheets. She is silent for most of the rest of the movie. Naturally, the boyfriend is nowhere to be found.
The Korean government keeps harping on the "low birthrate" in the country. Women are waiting to have children like their American counterparts, so the government is sponsoring incentives to promote pregnancy. Nature always finds a way to bring life, but I question how much of it might be snuffed out before it begins. It seems to me that knowing how the body works might be one way to control this problem. American women, for example, know that there is a window of time in their cycle where they are likely to get pregnant. Accordingly, they adjust their nocturnal activities to either avoid the danger zone, or embrace it. Would this scientific knowledge help at all? On the other hand, STDs are the lowest in the world; I suspect this is because they go unreported. There is qutie a bit of marital unfaithfulness going on. How many women are infected, don't know it (no one goes to the OB/GYN unless they are pregnant), and are accordingly infertile due to their spouse's unfaithfulness?
Public health campaigns work WELL here. Children and adults dutifully march to the bathroom with their toothbrushes after every meal, diet crazes are obsessively followed (I love the sweet potato diet!), and everyone takes their vitamins. Maybe a public health campaign for reproductive issues might be in order.
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