Last Tuesday, in my advanced middle school class, we were doing a listening and speaking excersise on employers monitoring their employees in the work place. My kids being the way they are, they helpfully pointed out the "class cams," claiming it "violated their privacy." One of the girls innocently said that the people who watch the children in the POLY classrooms really just sit back and "play with themselves." But back to my point.
The listening series we use employs actual radio broadcasts, usually from NPR, so they do spark some interesting debates. There is a reading section to go along with the listening section; in this week's reading selection, the journalist used the "Xerox scandal" as an example of how employers monitor employees, stating that 40 Xerox employees were fired after downloading pornography onto their work computers. The boy reading the article did a double-take, and I said,"Ah, Sean, you know what 'pornography' is?"
Without thinking, he answered, "Oh yes, I know very well what it is," then turned an interesting shade of pomegranate. Fortunately, only a few of the boys caught it (the girls looked puzzled).
One of the ways in which employees are being monitored, according the the article, is through cameras in the bathroom and other "private areas" (direct quote). The girls were horrified by this, even when I mentioned that it was done to prevent stealing and drug-dealing. (Connecticut is the only state that has banned this practice, btw.)
During group discussion, one of the other boys caused some more snickering, and even "teacher" nearly lost it. We were discussing alternative ways to monitor employees, ways that don't interfere with privacy overmuch. Only one boy defended the practice of bathroom cams, but his reason was, "If they put a camera in the bathroom, they can catch people performing immoral acts."
I only lost my composure for a moment; Sean was not so lucky. I backed the mildly embarassed boy up, "Such as..?" and he went on to talk about the stealing and drug dealing that goes on it the bathroom. He also advocated a "one person at a time" bathroom policy, but that didn't fly well with the class.
On another middle school note, my co-worker assigned her class to come up with a list of ten items each student would want to have if they were trapped on a desert island; they are reading LORD OF THE FLIES. Harry's number one answer? GIRLS!
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Monday, May 29, 2006
Photo Journal: Gyeongju Part II
I slept in the next morning, then hied myself down to a local coffee shop for breakfast. I spread out my map, and I decided to go to Tumuli Park. The park is a massive burial area for the kings and the queens of the Shilla Dynasty (the “Ming” dynasty of Korea). At the same time Gaul was being conquered, the Shilla were in power. No Stone Age people, these craftsmen had superb skills in stone carving, weaving, and metal works. The Mongolians feared them, which says quite a bit.
The “Tumuli” are the burial mounds; these are not mounds in the sense of mass graves, but are in fact rather complex underground structures, much like the pyramids of Egypt. The structures were built with wooden chambers inside, where the king or queen was buried with their clothes and crown ON TOP of their coffins. Like the Egyptians, the Shilla left things around for assistance in the afterlife. The tumuli was then covered with earth and grass, forming an enormous mound, like these:
Note the camera man on top for a sense of scale.
I slept in the next morning, then hied myself down to a local coffee shop for breakfast. I spread out my map, and I decided to go to Tumuli Park. The park is a massive burial area for the kings and the queens of the Shilla Dynasty (the “Ming” dynasty of Korea). At the same time Gaul was being conquered, the Shilla were in power. No Stone Age people, these craftsmen had superb skills in stone carving, weaving, and metal works. The Mongolians feared them, which says quite a bit.
The “Tumuli” are the burial mounds; these are not mounds in the sense of mass graves, but are in fact rather complex underground structures, much like the pyramids of Egypt. The structures were built with wooden chambers inside, where the king or queen was buried with their clothes and crown ON TOP of their coffins. Like the Egyptians, the Shilla left things around for assistance in the afterlife. The tumuli was then covered with earth and grass, forming an enormous mound, like these:
Note the cameraman on top for a sense of scale.
As I strolled along the park, a couple of middle-aged ladies approached me and asked if they could walk with me for a pace. This is quite common in Korea – if you look white, people want to practice their English on you. I usually comply with such requests, and this was no exception. The ladies explained that they were “volunteers,” and appeared to be associated with the park. Many park docents are, in fact, unpaid volunteers. We chit-chatted about this and that and they inevitably asked about my religion. The town was full of people who were in town to celebrate Buddha’s birthday; in fact there was a temple across the street from the park. Gyeongju is the center of Korean Buddhism, so this question did not seem too odd to me. Not wanting to be mistaken for the weird hippie-type Westerner, I gently explained I was a Christian, not a Buddhist. This seemed to impress them, and the subject was dropped. We stopped to take a picture, and then I began to go on my way. Before I left, we exchanged information - again, a politeness in Korea. It is very rude to refuse contact information. Then the bomb dropped, “I would like you to read this magazine and tell me what you think about it. I will contact you later on this week."
They were Jehovah’s Witnesses.
I have got to give them credit. I am so used to acting “Korean polite” that I didn’t see it coming. Not only this, but they did it virtually on the doorstep of a Buddhist temple. That takes some guts, and I admire that. One of the ladies did contact me, but I did not respond.
I continued on towards the center of the park, and promptly ran into a gaggle of young children, shepherded by their weary teachers. Each group was neatly “color-coded” by uniform - a handy thing when you are responsible for 40 children in your group! The colors also appeared to correspond somewhat to age group – yellow and orange for preschool/kindergarten, pink for 3rd grade, etc. The children were relatively quiet until a silent signal was released from the teachers. Then, the children began doing what children do - run around like lunatics. I walked near the older group for a bit, and one of the male teachers spoke surprisingly good English. He was very interested in conversing further, but his duties interfered.
I went towards the bathroom, and groaned as I saw a line of children in front of me. The children got very excited when they saw me, and began babbling at me in Korean. The female teacher in charge tentatively approached me, and asked if I would pose for a picture. The noisy tots (about 5-6 years old) gathered around me eagerly, and I made bunny ears over their dark little heads as the camera flashed. Then they babbled at me some more, “hello, thank you, hi” being the extent of their English. One of the more silent ones looked up at me in wonder, and exclaimed “Ajuma!” (Wow, you look like middle-aged!) I looked down at him and said, equally seriously,
“Ajuma?! Anio!” (Old woman? Nooo!)
The crowd rippled with excitement.
“Hangul?” “Hangul!” (She speaks Korean! Woah!)
Great fun.
nbsp;
I soon left, and headed out of the gate on the other side of the park. I wandered down the village streets for awhile, trying to get my bearings. As I went down the main drag, someone frantically called out to me, “Excuse me! Excuse me!” I turned around, and saw a well dressed middle-aged woman in heels chasing me down. Out of breath, she panted, ”May I talk with you?”
Oh great. Another one.
She then explained, “I came into town with my husband on business. We just finished lunch, and he just... dropped me off here. Can I talk to you and walk with you for awhile? I don’t know what to do until my husband picks me up…I think I will be bored…”
Korean women, especially of a certain class, do not know how to travel alone. As we were in the middle of nowhere, and there isn’t much of a town, I took pity on her, and allowed her to join me. “Pearl” turned out to be a good companion; she even insisted on paying my way a bit. In America, I would be suspicious, but there was something about her that spoke of a fragile honesty.
Pearl often traveled with her husband, but he had a tendency to drop her off in random places (“Have a good time, dear!”). In a country where no one even goes to the bathroom alone (even sharing bathroom stalls), this is a scary thing. As we chatted, I got to know a bit more about her life. She had a teenage son studying at boarding school in Australia, and a 14 year old at home (who kept calling her). She “helped her husband” with his business, but I took this to be code-word for “housewife.”
We went across a field to the Cheomseongdae Observatory, one of the oldest of its kind still standing in Asia. There we met one of the volunteer guides, a man who said everyone called him “Grandpa Choi.” He clearly enjoyed his “job,” giving lengthy details about the mathematical reasoning behind the stone structure. It was a clever system of season, day, and cycle counting, a system I couldn’t even begin to relate. The structure did survive several massive earthquakes, establishing Korea’s reputation at the time for brick-making. Even now, the masonry has held up amazingly well; not a stone was missing or out of place:
After we left, we crossed the street to a bakery that served Gyeongju’s specialty, a sort of barley-bread sandwich stuffed with red bean paste. It was tasty, but not spectacular.
We then boarded a bus to go up to Bulgaksa Temple, a UNESCO World-Heritage sight. As it was Buddha’s birthday, the temple was lavishly decorated with paper lanterns and lotus flowers:
This ancient pagoda is featured on the back of the "10 Won" piece (about ten cents):
I was especially intrigued by the “mini-pagodas,” which serve as wishes or prayers. These piles of rocks are man-made, and have deep symbolism for Buddhists:
A very resourceful individual used a convenient tree to build a taller pagoda:
Tree Pagoda
Even the god of music looks like someone you would not like to cross:
We were not allowed to take photos inside the temples, so I did not get any shots of the Buddhas here.
Pearl’s husband finally called wondering where she was. I didn’t understand the cell phone conversation of course, but the tone of voice sounded like this:
Husband: You are WHERE?! Up the mountain at a temple?! (She was Christian)
Wife: You think I was going to wait around for you all day?
Husband: (Sigh) All right, I will come get you.
As we waited, we stopped at a food stall. Pearl then proceeded to buy what can only be described as a Korean delicacy – cooked silkworm larvae. I have never actually seen people buy these things, let alone eat them, although they are readily available in any street market. My students either absolutely love them, or think they are gross (“Ewww, fried worms!”) They smell like burning tires, and look like, well, cooked larvae. Apparently you spear the suckers with a toothpick; a young couple was lovingly spooning them into each others’ mouths at the bus stop…I tried to get up the courage to ask if I could try one, but Pearl’s husband came with the car.
I took the bus down the mountain, then stopped at a GS (convenience store) for dinner. The restaurants were just too crowded, and I was too tired to figure out the menus (in Korean). I bought some lunch meat, but had to eat it with no bread. I also purchased some nuts, a snack or two, and water. I went back to my hotel room, and curled up with THE DA VINCI CODE.
The “Tumuli” are the burial mounds; these are not mounds in the sense of mass graves, but are in fact rather complex underground structures, much like the pyramids of Egypt. The structures were built with wooden chambers inside, where the king or queen was buried with their clothes and crown ON TOP of their coffins. Like the Egyptians, the Shilla left things around for assistance in the afterlife. The tumuli was then covered with earth and grass, forming an enormous mound, like these:
Note the camera man on top for a sense of scale.
I slept in the next morning, then hied myself down to a local coffee shop for breakfast. I spread out my map, and I decided to go to Tumuli Park. The park is a massive burial area for the kings and the queens of the Shilla Dynasty (the “Ming” dynasty of Korea). At the same time Gaul was being conquered, the Shilla were in power. No Stone Age people, these craftsmen had superb skills in stone carving, weaving, and metal works. The Mongolians feared them, which says quite a bit.
The “Tumuli” are the burial mounds; these are not mounds in the sense of mass graves, but are in fact rather complex underground structures, much like the pyramids of Egypt. The structures were built with wooden chambers inside, where the king or queen was buried with their clothes and crown ON TOP of their coffins. Like the Egyptians, the Shilla left things around for assistance in the afterlife. The tumuli was then covered with earth and grass, forming an enormous mound, like these:
Note the cameraman on top for a sense of scale.
As I strolled along the park, a couple of middle-aged ladies approached me and asked if they could walk with me for a pace. This is quite common in Korea – if you look white, people want to practice their English on you. I usually comply with such requests, and this was no exception. The ladies explained that they were “volunteers,” and appeared to be associated with the park. Many park docents are, in fact, unpaid volunteers. We chit-chatted about this and that and they inevitably asked about my religion. The town was full of people who were in town to celebrate Buddha’s birthday; in fact there was a temple across the street from the park. Gyeongju is the center of Korean Buddhism, so this question did not seem too odd to me. Not wanting to be mistaken for the weird hippie-type Westerner, I gently explained I was a Christian, not a Buddhist. This seemed to impress them, and the subject was dropped. We stopped to take a picture, and then I began to go on my way. Before I left, we exchanged information - again, a politeness in Korea. It is very rude to refuse contact information. Then the bomb dropped, “I would like you to read this magazine and tell me what you think about it. I will contact you later on this week."
They were Jehovah’s Witnesses.
I have got to give them credit. I am so used to acting “Korean polite” that I didn’t see it coming. Not only this, but they did it virtually on the doorstep of a Buddhist temple. That takes some guts, and I admire that. One of the ladies did contact me, but I did not respond.
I continued on towards the center of the park, and promptly ran into a gaggle of young children, shepherded by their weary teachers. Each group was neatly “color-coded” by uniform - a handy thing when you are responsible for 40 children in your group! The colors also appeared to correspond somewhat to age group – yellow and orange for preschool/kindergarten, pink for 3rd grade, etc. The children were relatively quiet until a silent signal was released from the teachers. Then, the children began doing what children do - run around like lunatics. I walked near the older group for a bit, and one of the male teachers spoke surprisingly good English. He was very interested in conversing further, but his duties interfered.
I went towards the bathroom, and groaned as I saw a line of children in front of me. The children got very excited when they saw me, and began babbling at me in Korean. The female teacher in charge tentatively approached me, and asked if I would pose for a picture. The noisy tots (about 5-6 years old) gathered around me eagerly, and I made bunny ears over their dark little heads as the camera flashed. Then they babbled at me some more, “hello, thank you, hi” being the extent of their English. One of the more silent ones looked up at me in wonder, and exclaimed “Ajuma!” (Wow, you look like middle-aged!) I looked down at him and said, equally seriously,
“Ajuma?! Anio!” (Old woman? Nooo!)
The crowd rippled with excitement.
“Hangul?” “Hangul!” (She speaks Korean! Woah!)
Great fun.
nbsp;
I soon left, and headed out of the gate on the other side of the park. I wandered down the village streets for awhile, trying to get my bearings. As I went down the main drag, someone frantically called out to me, “Excuse me! Excuse me!” I turned around, and saw a well dressed middle-aged woman in heels chasing me down. Out of breath, she panted, ”May I talk with you?”
Oh great. Another one.
She then explained, “I came into town with my husband on business. We just finished lunch, and he just... dropped me off here. Can I talk to you and walk with you for awhile? I don’t know what to do until my husband picks me up…I think I will be bored…”
Korean women, especially of a certain class, do not know how to travel alone. As we were in the middle of nowhere, and there isn’t much of a town, I took pity on her, and allowed her to join me. “Pearl” turned out to be a good companion; she even insisted on paying my way a bit. In America, I would be suspicious, but there was something about her that spoke of a fragile honesty.
Pearl often traveled with her husband, but he had a tendency to drop her off in random places (“Have a good time, dear!”). In a country where no one even goes to the bathroom alone (even sharing bathroom stalls), this is a scary thing. As we chatted, I got to know a bit more about her life. She had a teenage son studying at boarding school in Australia, and a 14 year old at home (who kept calling her). She “helped her husband” with his business, but I took this to be code-word for “housewife.”
We went across a field to the Cheomseongdae Observatory, one of the oldest of its kind still standing in Asia. There we met one of the volunteer guides, a man who said everyone called him “Grandpa Choi.” He clearly enjoyed his “job,” giving lengthy details about the mathematical reasoning behind the stone structure. It was a clever system of season, day, and cycle counting, a system I couldn’t even begin to relate. The structure did survive several massive earthquakes, establishing Korea’s reputation at the time for brick-making. Even now, the masonry has held up amazingly well; not a stone was missing or out of place:
After we left, we crossed the street to a bakery that served Gyeongju’s specialty, a sort of barley-bread sandwich stuffed with red bean paste. It was tasty, but not spectacular.
We then boarded a bus to go up to Bulgaksa Temple, a UNESCO World-Heritage sight. As it was Buddha’s birthday, the temple was lavishly decorated with paper lanterns and lotus flowers:
This ancient pagoda is featured on the back of the "10 Won" piece (about ten cents):
I was especially intrigued by the “mini-pagodas,” which serve as wishes or prayers. These piles of rocks are man-made, and have deep symbolism for Buddhists:
A very resourceful individual used a convenient tree to build a taller pagoda:
Tree Pagoda
Even the god of music looks like someone you would not like to cross:
We were not allowed to take photos inside the temples, so I did not get any shots of the Buddhas here.
Pearl’s husband finally called wondering where she was. I didn’t understand the cell phone conversation of course, but the tone of voice sounded like this:
Husband: You are WHERE?! Up the mountain at a temple?! (She was Christian)
Wife: You think I was going to wait around for you all day?
Husband: (Sigh) All right, I will come get you.
As we waited, we stopped at a food stall. Pearl then proceeded to buy what can only be described as a Korean delicacy – cooked silkworm larvae. I have never actually seen people buy these things, let alone eat them, although they are readily available in any street market. My students either absolutely love them, or think they are gross (“Ewww, fried worms!”) They smell like burning tires, and look like, well, cooked larvae. Apparently you spear the suckers with a toothpick; a young couple was lovingly spooning them into each others’ mouths at the bus stop…I tried to get up the courage to ask if I could try one, but Pearl’s husband came with the car.
I took the bus down the mountain, then stopped at a GS (convenience store) for dinner. The restaurants were just too crowded, and I was too tired to figure out the menus (in Korean). I bought some lunch meat, but had to eat it with no bread. I also purchased some nuts, a snack or two, and water. I went back to my hotel room, and curled up with THE DA VINCI CODE.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Photo Journal: Gyeongju Part I
I arrived in Gyeongju on May 3, 2006, not certain what I would find. I took a late bus because I had been through a job interview earlier that afternoon. The bus journey was quite uneventful, except that it was a four hour ride with no bathroom. Naturally, I had to go, even though I had not had any liquid for hours. It would be a very Korean thing to do - take a four hour bus-ride without stopping - the Koreans are very stoic about suffering. Fortunately, two hours into the trip, we stopped at this waystation. You couldn’t miss this tourist kiosk, that’s for certain:
Tourist Kiosk
When I arrived, I noticed the bus station was not terribly well-lit, and it was clearly a more interesting part of town. The characters one might expect to meet in such a place are the same no matter what part of the world you are in; at 10 p.m., things looked a bit dodgy. I scanned my map, and discovered I had gotten off at the wrong bus stop; there is the Express Bus Terminal and the Intercity Bus Terminal. I got off at the Intercity, but my map was for the other one. My Korean wasn’t up to “bus terminal” but the lady at the bread counter indicated that it was a LOOONG walk. The scale on my map was missing, so after calling a friend, I asked a taxi driver where my hotel (x marks the spot) and/or the other bus terminal was. He pointed vaguely in the opposite direction for the bus terminal, then peered at my map carefully, using the headlights for a light. He asked his colleagues, but no one could tell me where I needed to go. Korean streets don’t always have names.
Frustrated, I began stumbling to the “love motel” row behind the bus station. I grew increasingly uneasy as I wandered through this part of the city; it was very dark, and the “ladies” had already left their “calling cards” propped up on the steps of the motels. One particularly garish hotel caught my eye. “Oooh, over the top,” I thought absently, observing the plush velvet stairs decked with photos of the local delicacies. I passed it, crossed my fingers, and went down a side street. I found myself back where I started, at the Intercity terminal. Two university-aged students came and offered their assistance. I never got their names, but one of them had a crazy tie that clashed nicely with his rock t-shirt. The other one zigzagged ahead down the street, leaving us in his dust. Suddenly he shouted, “Yo gi oh” (over there!). It was the “over the top” love motel with the stairs. If I had just looked up and read the Korean sign, I would have known that. So much for problem-solving.
With much smiling and bowing, the boys left me (probably wondering about my reputation!) on the steps of my love palace. The staff turned out to be very pleasant, and actually remembered my reservation – a rarity in Korea, as Koreans never plan ahead. The room was small, but well-appointed, with a large screen t.v., a wide bed, and “his ‘n hers” hangers. There were at least three boxes of Kleenex “for clean-up” in the amenities, “special” lotion, bottled water in the fridge, but alas, no condoms. When I flipped the light switch, the room was bathed in a glow of blacklight! After some fumbling around, I discovered the actual light switch!
There was one “Korean porn” channel, and, in my ever increasing interest in sex ed. in Korea, I decided to take time to see what it was about. Korean “porn” is actually quite tame compared to cable t.v. fare. Let’s just say if any of my students came across it, they would still be quite mystified as to “where babies come from.” This has a lot to do with censorship in Korea – T and A, but no frontal nudity below the waist. Actually, I’m not sure how anyone can get their jollies off this stuff as the “performers” are not remotely attractive even by Asian standards, and the videos are shot at peculiar angles. I flipped across a “shower scene” where the camera spent quite a bit of time on the lady’s legs; this would have been fine, except her legs were blotchy and scarred. Even so, the cameraman used as sexy an angle as he could. The women also tended to be a bit on the plump side, and, as I have mentioned before, overweight Korean women have CELLULITE. The men were exceptionally skinny, a fault which usually gets a man ribbed and ridiculed by his mates. A bigger and more cushioned body type is preferred by the ladies.
But maybe that was the point, a common man gets a woman, any woman. In many of the scenes, said woman was intoxicated to the point of compliance. Korean men are very shy unless intoxicated, what does this say about the women? As Westerners, we are horrified by the thought of a woman being taken advantage of in this fashion; American women are prone to cry “Rape!” at the least provocation. This is not a bad thing by any means, but it puts men in a certain position of powerlessness. Generally speaking, Koreans are introverts, and not prone to make waves; their powerlessness lies in their inability to communicate what they are REALLY feeling. It is only when the defences are down “after hours” that deals are made and broken between Korean business men. Maybe the same can be said about sexual relations.
Tourist Kiosk
When I arrived, I noticed the bus station was not terribly well-lit, and it was clearly a more interesting part of town. The characters one might expect to meet in such a place are the same no matter what part of the world you are in; at 10 p.m., things looked a bit dodgy. I scanned my map, and discovered I had gotten off at the wrong bus stop; there is the Express Bus Terminal and the Intercity Bus Terminal. I got off at the Intercity, but my map was for the other one. My Korean wasn’t up to “bus terminal” but the lady at the bread counter indicated that it was a LOOONG walk. The scale on my map was missing, so after calling a friend, I asked a taxi driver where my hotel (x marks the spot) and/or the other bus terminal was. He pointed vaguely in the opposite direction for the bus terminal, then peered at my map carefully, using the headlights for a light. He asked his colleagues, but no one could tell me where I needed to go. Korean streets don’t always have names.
Frustrated, I began stumbling to the “love motel” row behind the bus station. I grew increasingly uneasy as I wandered through this part of the city; it was very dark, and the “ladies” had already left their “calling cards” propped up on the steps of the motels. One particularly garish hotel caught my eye. “Oooh, over the top,” I thought absently, observing the plush velvet stairs decked with photos of the local delicacies. I passed it, crossed my fingers, and went down a side street. I found myself back where I started, at the Intercity terminal. Two university-aged students came and offered their assistance. I never got their names, but one of them had a crazy tie that clashed nicely with his rock t-shirt. The other one zigzagged ahead down the street, leaving us in his dust. Suddenly he shouted, “Yo gi oh” (over there!). It was the “over the top” love motel with the stairs. If I had just looked up and read the Korean sign, I would have known that. So much for problem-solving.
With much smiling and bowing, the boys left me (probably wondering about my reputation!) on the steps of my love palace. The staff turned out to be very pleasant, and actually remembered my reservation – a rarity in Korea, as Koreans never plan ahead. The room was small, but well-appointed, with a large screen t.v., a wide bed, and “his ‘n hers” hangers. There were at least three boxes of Kleenex “for clean-up” in the amenities, “special” lotion, bottled water in the fridge, but alas, no condoms. When I flipped the light switch, the room was bathed in a glow of blacklight! After some fumbling around, I discovered the actual light switch!
There was one “Korean porn” channel, and, in my ever increasing interest in sex ed. in Korea, I decided to take time to see what it was about. Korean “porn” is actually quite tame compared to cable t.v. fare. Let’s just say if any of my students came across it, they would still be quite mystified as to “where babies come from.” This has a lot to do with censorship in Korea – T and A, but no frontal nudity below the waist. Actually, I’m not sure how anyone can get their jollies off this stuff as the “performers” are not remotely attractive even by Asian standards, and the videos are shot at peculiar angles. I flipped across a “shower scene” where the camera spent quite a bit of time on the lady’s legs; this would have been fine, except her legs were blotchy and scarred. Even so, the cameraman used as sexy an angle as he could. The women also tended to be a bit on the plump side, and, as I have mentioned before, overweight Korean women have CELLULITE. The men were exceptionally skinny, a fault which usually gets a man ribbed and ridiculed by his mates. A bigger and more cushioned body type is preferred by the ladies.
But maybe that was the point, a common man gets a woman, any woman. In many of the scenes, said woman was intoxicated to the point of compliance. Korean men are very shy unless intoxicated, what does this say about the women? As Westerners, we are horrified by the thought of a woman being taken advantage of in this fashion; American women are prone to cry “Rape!” at the least provocation. This is not a bad thing by any means, but it puts men in a certain position of powerlessness. Generally speaking, Koreans are introverts, and not prone to make waves; their powerlessness lies in their inability to communicate what they are REALLY feeling. It is only when the defences are down “after hours” that deals are made and broken between Korean business men. Maybe the same can be said about sexual relations.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Monday, May 01, 2006
NOTES: The Baby Story
This is a continuation of my earlier discussion of sex education in Korea, so bear with me. I have done a bit of research, and found an older article on the subject at:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2003/03/14/MN19286.DTL
I was basically right on target, except for a few details. First of all, Korea still has one of the lowest AIDS rates in Asia. The strain is specifically known as "the Korean" strain, and is being spread almost exclusively through sexual contact. Needle-sharing is uncommon, and so is homosexuality. Although initially introduced by a sex worker who plied her trade on a U.S. military base, it is now spread from Korean to Korean.
Condom use is still not high; I have been told that this is because the Korean brands are made of very thick and uncomfortably tight latex. The Korean men I have spoken to (they will only talk about it if they are drunk) say they prefer to buy American brands, even though they are a little too big...I have no direct experience of this, so I will have to take their word for it.
Here is an exerpt from the above-mentioned article:
Changing attitude toward sex threatens South Korea
Growing promiscuity, lack of education may lead to
increase in AIDS, experts sayBobby McGill, Chronicle Foreign Service
Friday, March 14, 2003
Health officials say reluctance to use condoms,
a rise in infections among homosexuals, an increase
in young Koreans' sexual activities and lack of
information about contraception are likely factors
that could lead to a significant increase in HIV
infections in future years.
"Korea needs to be shocked by someone famous with
the disease, like the United States with Rock Hudson,"
said Kwon. "Maybe then parents will see the importance
of talking about it at home."
The government now offers a Web site with AIDS
information, a 24-hour hot- line and free AIDS tests.
The National Institute of Health also plans to install
18,000 condom vending machines at major nightspots
throughout the country and at "every possible location
we can," said Kwon.
Recognizing the reluctance of parents to address AIDS,
sexuality and especially contraception, a government
campaign encourages middle school and high school
teachers to lead candid discussions with their students
about the consequences of unprotected sex.
Starting at the middle school level, students are taught
about abstinence and safe sex practices. But critics
say the depth of classroom discussions depends on the
willingness of individual teachers to broach the subject.
Students say some would rather show anatomical charts
and tame videos than preside over a frank discussion.
Saets Byul Choi, a 16-year-old high school student from
the industrial city of Ansan, just south of Seoul,
recalled a recent video shown at her school.
"It was about a man and a woman who fall in love and get
married. They get into the bed fully dressed and the
screen goes black," she said. "When they return to the
screen, the woman has a big stomach."
Yet, clearly, babies do happen. It is spring in Seoul, and babies are almost as abundant as the spring flowers. Women carry their babies in a blanket sling, rather than a baby carrier. These bundles of joy are just that; they grow like tumors on hapless female backs. They appear to be comfortable, and flirt with passing strangers over their mothers' (and grandmothers') backs. I get lots of stares and an occasional grin on the subway when their mothers are otherwise distracted.
Trendy mothers carry their babies in front-slings, as was popular in the mid-eighties in America. Father's carry young children in their arms more often, although the less dignified (and typically younger) fathers also use the front sling. I have never seen a baby carrier in Korea, though I do see the occasional "pram."
Today I got to hold one of the little Korean babies. I went to my usual sandwich shop, and one of the employee's relatives brought her baby in. As it was a little slow, the baby got passed around among the employees. Even Mr. Pak, who can be a bit stiff and formal, picked up the child and crowed at it. I finished my lunch, picked up my bag, and walked out the door.
The mother, who appeared to be very young, handed the baby off to her sister. I said "Anyung" (hello) to the baby in passing, who appeared to be about three months old, and was startled when he gave me a toothless grin. I put my finger out, and was surprised at the grip the little guy had. He was apparently older than I thought, because he reached for me. Before I could say a word, he got passed to me.
Now, an American mother would never pass a baby to a random stranger, especially one who was not expecting it. Fortunately, he was strong and able to hold himself upright and move about. I wondered how old he actually was; his mother was very small so perhaps he was just undersized. After "making friends," I bounced him around and "flew him" gently (which got another toothless grin)up and down. He loved this, and so did his grateful mother (who looked very tired).
I have not held a baby for over a year, and it was bittersweet for me. I find it very painful, and try to avoid it because I may never have one of my own; the thought hurts me more than I can bear. At the same time, it felt so good to hold a new life in my own hands. Yesteday, I held a puppy at the subway station; today I held a person. Of course, the little kids at work "tackle hug" me; Korean children are very affectionate and demonstrative. It is not the same, however. Am I seeing "dancing babies" already? Or is it just spring?
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2003/03/14/MN19286.DTL
I was basically right on target, except for a few details. First of all, Korea still has one of the lowest AIDS rates in Asia. The strain is specifically known as "the Korean" strain, and is being spread almost exclusively through sexual contact. Needle-sharing is uncommon, and so is homosexuality. Although initially introduced by a sex worker who plied her trade on a U.S. military base, it is now spread from Korean to Korean.
Condom use is still not high; I have been told that this is because the Korean brands are made of very thick and uncomfortably tight latex. The Korean men I have spoken to (they will only talk about it if they are drunk) say they prefer to buy American brands, even though they are a little too big...I have no direct experience of this, so I will have to take their word for it.
Here is an exerpt from the above-mentioned article:
Changing attitude toward sex threatens South Korea
Growing promiscuity, lack of education may lead to
increase in AIDS, experts sayBobby McGill, Chronicle Foreign Service
Friday, March 14, 2003
Health officials say reluctance to use condoms,
a rise in infections among homosexuals, an increase
in young Koreans' sexual activities and lack of
information about contraception are likely factors
that could lead to a significant increase in HIV
infections in future years.
"Korea needs to be shocked by someone famous with
the disease, like the United States with Rock Hudson,"
said Kwon. "Maybe then parents will see the importance
of talking about it at home."
The government now offers a Web site with AIDS
information, a 24-hour hot- line and free AIDS tests.
The National Institute of Health also plans to install
18,000 condom vending machines at major nightspots
throughout the country and at "every possible location
we can," said Kwon.
Recognizing the reluctance of parents to address AIDS,
sexuality and especially contraception, a government
campaign encourages middle school and high school
teachers to lead candid discussions with their students
about the consequences of unprotected sex.
Starting at the middle school level, students are taught
about abstinence and safe sex practices. But critics
say the depth of classroom discussions depends on the
willingness of individual teachers to broach the subject.
Students say some would rather show anatomical charts
and tame videos than preside over a frank discussion.
Saets Byul Choi, a 16-year-old high school student from
the industrial city of Ansan, just south of Seoul,
recalled a recent video shown at her school.
"It was about a man and a woman who fall in love and get
married. They get into the bed fully dressed and the
screen goes black," she said. "When they return to the
screen, the woman has a big stomach."
Yet, clearly, babies do happen. It is spring in Seoul, and babies are almost as abundant as the spring flowers. Women carry their babies in a blanket sling, rather than a baby carrier. These bundles of joy are just that; they grow like tumors on hapless female backs. They appear to be comfortable, and flirt with passing strangers over their mothers' (and grandmothers') backs. I get lots of stares and an occasional grin on the subway when their mothers are otherwise distracted.
Trendy mothers carry their babies in front-slings, as was popular in the mid-eighties in America. Father's carry young children in their arms more often, although the less dignified (and typically younger) fathers also use the front sling. I have never seen a baby carrier in Korea, though I do see the occasional "pram."
Today I got to hold one of the little Korean babies. I went to my usual sandwich shop, and one of the employee's relatives brought her baby in. As it was a little slow, the baby got passed around among the employees. Even Mr. Pak, who can be a bit stiff and formal, picked up the child and crowed at it. I finished my lunch, picked up my bag, and walked out the door.
The mother, who appeared to be very young, handed the baby off to her sister. I said "Anyung" (hello) to the baby in passing, who appeared to be about three months old, and was startled when he gave me a toothless grin. I put my finger out, and was surprised at the grip the little guy had. He was apparently older than I thought, because he reached for me. Before I could say a word, he got passed to me.
Now, an American mother would never pass a baby to a random stranger, especially one who was not expecting it. Fortunately, he was strong and able to hold himself upright and move about. I wondered how old he actually was; his mother was very small so perhaps he was just undersized. After "making friends," I bounced him around and "flew him" gently (which got another toothless grin)up and down. He loved this, and so did his grateful mother (who looked very tired).
I have not held a baby for over a year, and it was bittersweet for me. I find it very painful, and try to avoid it because I may never have one of my own; the thought hurts me more than I can bear. At the same time, it felt so good to hold a new life in my own hands. Yesteday, I held a puppy at the subway station; today I held a person. Of course, the little kids at work "tackle hug" me; Korean children are very affectionate and demonstrative. It is not the same, however. Am I seeing "dancing babies" already? Or is it just spring?
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