First of all, I received a private comment warning that I may turn readers off if I am "too negative." Let me address this publically and assure people that this is not my intention. I am merely out of the "honeymoon period" of my stay in Korea. I still love this country, but I am now becoming more keenly aware of its faults, some of them admittedly humorous. These are things that are on my mind right now. In my defense, I have this to offer:
1. I am, and always will be, a city girl. I was brought up in the country, but the "country" in California is more culturally diverse than in the rest of the United States. In this sense, it is like a smaller urban area.
2. There are no young white women in Byeongjeom. I have one older female coworker (from Dublin); the rest of the teachers in my building are male. This is especially an issue with all of the Arab field workers in the village; I am constantly getting stared at or harassed.
3. The noise factor.
These three items alone would drive any sane person to drink. Together, they just make life more interesting. I am slowly learning to cope, but it is not easy.
So, what keeps me going? The funny little "hmmmmm" moments mostly. I had two tonight.
I was walking home from the bus stop this evening, when I noticed something odd. There are a couple of bosintang (dogmeat soup) restaurants along my route home, and tonight one of them gave me pause. They look like average Korean restuarants usually, but this one had a difference. I peeked in as I walked by out of morbid curiosity, and noticed that there were "girly" posters on the wall. Bosingtang, I am told, is the working man's Viagra. A short, stocky, and muscular man came out, and I hurried by. He apparently didn't see me, or if he did, he didn't mind my curiosity.
The street is a bit dark, and as I mentioned, has a small red light district. Each
night, there are hundreds and hundreds of flyers scattered on the street and taped to car windows. I personally would find the taping of flyers onto my windshield annoying. These posters usually offer various "services," phone numbers, and directions to the establishments. They are so common that I am even beginning to recognize each individual one. I often wondered who put them out, and how they get away with it. Tonight, I got a slight clue, although I don't know where it leads yet.
The man from the restaurant began walking down the street with a notepad in his hand. He looked at every car with a flyer stuck to it and made a note of it. He began counting the flyers, like taking inventory. He also appeared to be replacing them as he went along, although I couldn't see what he was actually doing. I surmise that one of the "businesses" is on the second floor, and he is associated with it somehow. It does make good business sense to sell virility remedies and professional companionship in the same building. Perhaps they are in cahoots together.
Musing on this theory, I continued my journey home. The fighter jets were particularly frequent and loud this evening, so my reverie was interrupted every time I had to put my hands to my ears. Suddenly, I remembered what my coworker had said about the roof of our building. Curiosity got the better of me, so I dropped off my packages and climbed the stairs.
The view on the roof was breathtaking. I could see the layout of the munincipality, and the rice fields green and lush. The smoky mountains in the distance were dotted with traditional houses, and the lights from the light traffice snaked up the shallow mountain passes. I then observed the light show as the fighter jets performed their nocturnal maneuvers, their sleek and lithe bodies circling the dark as they cut through the night sky...They swooped so close that I could see every detail of their bodies. Almost as good as people watching.
So, in short, I have found entertainment of a sort, on the roof of my apartment building. People hang their wash up there, and I noticed some chalk art on the ground. With a table and chairs, it might make a nice patio...Bar the ear-splitting takeoffs and landings at the air force base.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Saturday, September 16, 2006
NOTE: Interested in North Korea?
I have been, once again, delving into Asian history. I am currently reading (and, frankly, weeping) through THE RAPE OF NANKING by Iris Chang. It is the long hidden story, backed by pages and pages of meticulous research, of the Japanese occupation of the ancient Chinese city of Nanking. The atrocities committed outnumber anything the Nazis did during the same period; in fact, a high-ranking member of the Nazi party, John Rabe, witnessed these events, obtained film footage from a local missionary, and sent it to Hitler hoping that Hitler might intervene (he did not). The rapes, murders, and excecutions are well-documented and photgraphed by missionaries, medical workers, and survivors. It is in direct result of this incident that the Japanese began kidnapping "comfort women" from Korea, China, and the Phillipines, to prevent these wanton rapes and murders.
If you are interested in this incident, an excellent website is:
http://www.bergen.org/AAST/Projects/ChinaHistory/rape.html
Be warned, the photos (some taken by Japanese soldiers as "trophies") are not for the faint-hearted.
I have searched the internet for the film footage by Epsicopalian priest John McGee, but it is locked up in a museum in Los Angeles, though it "tours" from time to time. If you read the book, be warned, it is gruesome, and, as stated above, the photos are beyond disturbing. If you have a genuine interest in a forgotten piece of World War II history, then this is an excellent start. Although the first half of the book is dedicated to the gory details, the second half deals with the heroes. Ms. Chang paints an even-handed picture, and one can even sense some sympathy for some of the Japanese soldiers.
Iris Chang, for those of you who may not know, was a Chinese American from San Jose. Her writing style is sympathetic yet hard-hitting. Unfortunately, two years ago she shot herself in the head after a post-partum breakdown complicated by the nature of her research. Her books deal with the tramatic, and often times, enigmatically brutal, incidents of Asian history.
I mention this because the longer I live here, the less I understand this place. Many things I will never understand, nor should I expect to. South Korea is quite mum on the North; although opinions flow freely, no one seems to offer hard evidence in the local media. I think the issue of North Korea still gets heavily censored here. With good cause, given that the enemy is at the gates!
While in America, I was fortunate to view a documentary, filmed by some Dutch journalists, of North Korea. It is a recent film, and the journalists don't quite know what to make of the Hermit Kingdom. The thing that strikes the journalists and the viewers is how silent Pyungyang is. There are almost no people on the street, and interaction with locals is strictly limited. We are left more bemused than enlightened by this film, as we are intended to be.
I was just online researching trips to North Korea; there is one leaving in November from Seoul that I might be able to get on. Of course, we will be heavily guarded, and our movements will be restricted. If I go, I will of course document it. That said, I found video footage that is a little more enlightening on North Korea.
A very brave young man filmed his adventures (and nearly got imprisoned) in the North. You can find his footage at:
http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=alilameda
He was able to speak with actual residents, and, although the camera quality is poor, you can see more of the country. I hope this young man will get the footage edited and organized into his own documentary so that it may reach a wider audience.
If you are interested in this incident, an excellent website is:
http://www.bergen.org/AAST/Projects/ChinaHistory/rape.html
Be warned, the photos (some taken by Japanese soldiers as "trophies") are not for the faint-hearted.
I have searched the internet for the film footage by Epsicopalian priest John McGee, but it is locked up in a museum in Los Angeles, though it "tours" from time to time. If you read the book, be warned, it is gruesome, and, as stated above, the photos are beyond disturbing. If you have a genuine interest in a forgotten piece of World War II history, then this is an excellent start. Although the first half of the book is dedicated to the gory details, the second half deals with the heroes. Ms. Chang paints an even-handed picture, and one can even sense some sympathy for some of the Japanese soldiers.
Iris Chang, for those of you who may not know, was a Chinese American from San Jose. Her writing style is sympathetic yet hard-hitting. Unfortunately, two years ago she shot herself in the head after a post-partum breakdown complicated by the nature of her research. Her books deal with the tramatic, and often times, enigmatically brutal, incidents of Asian history.
I mention this because the longer I live here, the less I understand this place. Many things I will never understand, nor should I expect to. South Korea is quite mum on the North; although opinions flow freely, no one seems to offer hard evidence in the local media. I think the issue of North Korea still gets heavily censored here. With good cause, given that the enemy is at the gates!
While in America, I was fortunate to view a documentary, filmed by some Dutch journalists, of North Korea. It is a recent film, and the journalists don't quite know what to make of the Hermit Kingdom. The thing that strikes the journalists and the viewers is how silent Pyungyang is. There are almost no people on the street, and interaction with locals is strictly limited. We are left more bemused than enlightened by this film, as we are intended to be.
I was just online researching trips to North Korea; there is one leaving in November from Seoul that I might be able to get on. Of course, we will be heavily guarded, and our movements will be restricted. If I go, I will of course document it. That said, I found video footage that is a little more enlightening on North Korea.
A very brave young man filmed his adventures (and nearly got imprisoned) in the North. You can find his footage at:
http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=alilameda
He was able to speak with actual residents, and, although the camera quality is poor, you can see more of the country. I hope this young man will get the footage edited and organized into his own documentary so that it may reach a wider audience.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
JOURNAL: Abandone Ye Hope of Slumber All Ye Who Enter Here
First, a little business. I have discovered a nice website with good forums on living in Korea. It also has a nice list of other Korean blogs. It is located at:
http://usfkforums.com
P.S. Does anyone out there know how to do a link exchange?!
I have been having difficulties getting into my blog for a couple of weeks now, but the problem appears to have mysteriously resolved itself. Hmm...
I am now getting used to my new neighborhood, although there are things that are definately less-than-thrilling about it. This photo is of my "backyard." Enough said.
The noise pollution is ridiculous, especially the fighter jets every twelve minutes, starting at 7:30am. The planes are so low flying that one can see all the details of the plane's underbelly. My neighbor said that if you go up to the roof, you can actually wave at the pilots as they go by... We appear to be on the direct flight path to a small airbase in Seryu, the next subway stop over.
The planes appear to use the major road that runs parallel to the train station for navigation purposes. If I stand in my parking lot, the planes go symetrically in between the two buildings in the complex, which parallels the main road. Even at the University of Suwon(as pictured, left) you can see the fighter jets.
The neighborhood is very busy during peak times (early morning/late evening)but there is a certain stillness in the afternoon. In the morning, the farmers send out their trucks and go to the fields. They live in the "human filing cabinets" (highrises) on the edge of town. In this sense, tradition has died, and only run-down relics of traditional housing remain. Warehouses are intermixed with residential areas, causing much bustle and confusion with the traffic.
The traffic has its own peculiarities - I can safely say that Korea has reinvented the concept of "gridlock." They are the Scotsmen of Asia in that they will pinch a penny until it screams, especially in matters of public transportation. There are very nice traffic lights and street lights in Byeongjeom (the name of the town) but they appear to me to be unutilized. I asked someone about this, and was told that it was because the "city" (haha!) did not want to pay the money to keep them running. This presents an interesting problem. The major intersections of Byeongjeom are only controlled by blinking yellow lights. The traffic signals have the redlight/greenlight equipment, but these functions are never turned on.
Now picture, if you will, a typical country town. Roads are not generally laid out in an organized way; they just run helter skelter, "as needed," like spokes on a wheel. In the center of this wheel is downtown. Take away the definitive lights, throw in a discretionary yellow in a country of people who like "boundaries" and what do you get? A traffic standstill. I sat in the center of the intersection for TEN MINUTES while drivers sat there just hopelessly staring at each other.
The non-functional streetlights are a subject of concern for me because I live in an area on the edge of the red light district. This is complicated by the fact that there is also a legitimate row of male-run Arab businesses on the same street. The business owners themselves are quite pleasant and speak English well, but some of their clients are a bit creepy. I am the lone single, white, youngish female in the village, and I do get approached by some of the shady characters around the "barbershops." I do not believe myself to be in danger, as there is also a police station nearby, but I am still very cautious...
My craziest experience so far, however, has got to be the bus ride to work. This is a daily occurence and each day is an adventure. The country buses, I have discovered, have no shocks, the drivers have no concern for safety (to put it mildly), and one must become a gymnast in order to stay upright. During rush hour, you must of course stand and grab onto a bar or handle. The handles are O shaped, like the Olympic rings; I quickly learned to jostle for position next to a support pole instead.
The road to the school is a remote and twisted country road with unexpected pull-offs, bumps, and occasional potholes. There are caution/drive slowly/danger signs every 50 meters or so, and the city has installed speed humps at strategic points along the way. The bus driver knows this, and accordingly, slams on the brakes right as he hits the hump. I have seen kids and old ladies literally go flying across the bus when he does this; we-who-are-left-standing cushion them with outstretched hands as best as we can. The bus drivers ride the asses of cars and other buses, blast their horns if they do not give way, and swerve around them if they stubbornly hold to their right-of-way. The old timers, who have probably driven this route since it WAS a dirt road, are the most dangerous drivers. I have learned to recognize one of the older drivers, and I will wait for the next bus and risk being late rather than ride with HIM...
http://usfkforums.com
P.S. Does anyone out there know how to do a link exchange?!
I have been having difficulties getting into my blog for a couple of weeks now, but the problem appears to have mysteriously resolved itself. Hmm...
I am now getting used to my new neighborhood, although there are things that are definately less-than-thrilling about it. This photo is of my "backyard." Enough said.
The noise pollution is ridiculous, especially the fighter jets every twelve minutes, starting at 7:30am. The planes are so low flying that one can see all the details of the plane's underbelly. My neighbor said that if you go up to the roof, you can actually wave at the pilots as they go by... We appear to be on the direct flight path to a small airbase in Seryu, the next subway stop over.
The planes appear to use the major road that runs parallel to the train station for navigation purposes. If I stand in my parking lot, the planes go symetrically in between the two buildings in the complex, which parallels the main road. Even at the University of Suwon(as pictured, left) you can see the fighter jets.
The neighborhood is very busy during peak times (early morning/late evening)but there is a certain stillness in the afternoon. In the morning, the farmers send out their trucks and go to the fields. They live in the "human filing cabinets" (highrises) on the edge of town. In this sense, tradition has died, and only run-down relics of traditional housing remain. Warehouses are intermixed with residential areas, causing much bustle and confusion with the traffic.
The traffic has its own peculiarities - I can safely say that Korea has reinvented the concept of "gridlock." They are the Scotsmen of Asia in that they will pinch a penny until it screams, especially in matters of public transportation. There are very nice traffic lights and street lights in Byeongjeom (the name of the town) but they appear to me to be unutilized. I asked someone about this, and was told that it was because the "city" (haha!) did not want to pay the money to keep them running. This presents an interesting problem. The major intersections of Byeongjeom are only controlled by blinking yellow lights. The traffic signals have the redlight/greenlight equipment, but these functions are never turned on.
Now picture, if you will, a typical country town. Roads are not generally laid out in an organized way; they just run helter skelter, "as needed," like spokes on a wheel. In the center of this wheel is downtown. Take away the definitive lights, throw in a discretionary yellow in a country of people who like "boundaries" and what do you get? A traffic standstill. I sat in the center of the intersection for TEN MINUTES while drivers sat there just hopelessly staring at each other.
The non-functional streetlights are a subject of concern for me because I live in an area on the edge of the red light district. This is complicated by the fact that there is also a legitimate row of male-run Arab businesses on the same street. The business owners themselves are quite pleasant and speak English well, but some of their clients are a bit creepy. I am the lone single, white, youngish female in the village, and I do get approached by some of the shady characters around the "barbershops." I do not believe myself to be in danger, as there is also a police station nearby, but I am still very cautious...
My craziest experience so far, however, has got to be the bus ride to work. This is a daily occurence and each day is an adventure. The country buses, I have discovered, have no shocks, the drivers have no concern for safety (to put it mildly), and one must become a gymnast in order to stay upright. During rush hour, you must of course stand and grab onto a bar or handle. The handles are O shaped, like the Olympic rings; I quickly learned to jostle for position next to a support pole instead.
The road to the school is a remote and twisted country road with unexpected pull-offs, bumps, and occasional potholes. There are caution/drive slowly/danger signs every 50 meters or so, and the city has installed speed humps at strategic points along the way. The bus driver knows this, and accordingly, slams on the brakes right as he hits the hump. I have seen kids and old ladies literally go flying across the bus when he does this; we-who-are-left-standing cushion them with outstretched hands as best as we can. The bus drivers ride the asses of cars and other buses, blast their horns if they do not give way, and swerve around them if they stubbornly hold to their right-of-way. The old timers, who have probably driven this route since it WAS a dirt road, are the most dangerous drivers. I have learned to recognize one of the older drivers, and I will wait for the next bus and risk being late rather than ride with HIM...
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