JOURNAL: What Happened to My Vacation?

I know I haven't posted for two months; the truth is I just haven't had the heart to do much lately. I have been on a three-month job-hunting odyseey that has left me jobless, hopless, and frankly, down in the dumps.

To update: the University did want to renew my contract with me; I politely but firmly requested that the housing be changed. They would not move on this issue, so I declined their offer. The University does all it can to have full control over our lives outside of the university without taking into account the fact that we have lives outside of work. Which brings me to my second point.

The chance of renewal was offered to me again, this time with an alternative apartment. I requested to see the said apartment and was denied this simple request. Furthermore, I was given less than one day to make my decision. The liason further said that the housing policy had changed so that everyone had to live in specific housing provided by the university near the university - in other word, no commuting. When I asked about this "new policy," I was informed that it was for emergencies (ie. sick teachers needing subs). The school does not pay substitutes; the person who is out pays the substitute, so it is none of the University's concern. In my previous contract, a minor housing allowance was provided for those who already had an apartment, but this has changed. I pointed out that this new clause makes the contract a "renegotiation" and not a "renewal," but the liason seemed inclined to (wrongly) quibble over semantics so I dropped it.

So I have been job hunting. Rather unsuccessfully. I am looking for a Uni position IN SEOUL; none of this rural crap anymore. I am also looking at upscale high schools. There is one high school in a nice suburb of Seoul that sounds promising, but I would still prefer a university (looks better on my resume). Even so, a foreign high school will get me brownie points when doing my teacher's credential. I am gambling on the breadth of teaching experience rather than the length of time that I have been here.

It only looks bad in Korea if I "step down" from a university. But Korea is a small place in the world, though full of stubborn and tenacious adherence to culture; sometimes we who live here forget that. They have survived numerous attacks and assaults on their culture after all. Saving face is everything.

NOTE: Guest Editor

I am currently working on a multiple-part journal entry detailing my trip to North Korea. For those of you who have been waiting, I apologise. I have been very proactive in job hunting, writing final exams, photo editing, etc. and have had very little time to do any productive blog maintinence.

If and when (God-willing) I find a better university situation in Seoul, I solemnly promise to blog more often; my work hours doubled and my prep time vanished due to the loss of ten teachers...As a job, it has been a wonderful and life-changing experience, but I am ready to move on to more professional challenge and less, shall we say, lifestyle challenge...

That said, I did squeeze out some time to write a review as "LadySapphire" for another blog:

http://www.eflgeek.com

The blog itself is very well-written and has good information about the EFL instructor's life and job here in Korea. Check out my review of the Global EIL Conference last Saturday if you are interested in such things. I have been invited back as a guest editor.

PHOTOS: Beauty Among Squalor

This is a rare moment of color in Byengjeom. The azaleas (Korea's national flower) are in full bloom along the gloomy pathway that heads under the bridge. I am standing a few feet in front of my apartment complex, looking left. You can see the train tracks opposite the flowers.

This is a hanbok (traditional dress) shop across the street from "the hood." Above it is a bank. In the window, the bank advertises in several different languages for the migrant workers. Philipinos and Bangladeshi are the "Mexicans" of Korea.

The Korean farmers grow chili pepper bushes to protect their main crop (rice) just as Americans plant corn. The only time of day that this scrubby bit of farmland is lovely is at sunset. Although it is not evident in the photo (my camera being what it is) the sky was actually mixed with violent shade of pinks and oranges; the sun appeared blood-red. I am standing at the bus stop as I take this in.

JOURNAL: Gloomy Tuesday

I haven't blogged much recently lately because my situation is so ridiculous I can't find too much positive to say. "When you can't say something nice, don't say it at all." My experiences this year are of such a nature that public acknowledgement of the facts would sound like the lost episode of "The Sopronos. " After my ordeal is through and I am secure in a better place, I will expose all that has been happening. My sense of humor has (belatedly) kicked in, however; unfortunately, not many people find my sense of humor "normal." I find humor in the "theatre of the absurd" realm; literati, think Samuel Becket.

What I can't say in words (for fear of reprecussions), I will show in pictures. For those of you who are thinking, "She is such a drama queen, I don't believe it is that bad"....drumroll please.

My 'hood:

This is the bridge I have to cross under every night. I took this photo during daylight for obvious reasons...

Another view from the opposite side of the bridge. The dark corner behind the support is a popular "public bathroom" for drunks, and I have beeen more than once startled by a "patron."

Local massage parlor. As near as I can tell, operation is sporadic. The barber shop next door offers special "services;" note there are two barber poles. Although the rolling door is down, men come out the side and front entrance late at night. I peeped upstairs thourgh the windows one day when they were opened

(airing out?); they appear to be bedrooms.

One of many dog soup (boshintang) restaurants. I have posted this sign before; in context, you can see that it is right next to the police station.

The photo below is of a very cute puppy on a banner...Animal clinic? No. MEAL. I found this sizable banner in extremely poor taste. As much as I hoped that it was a banner for an animal rescue service, I am able to read Korean well. The blue lettering says "Gae go gi" which means dogmeat.

I believe the sign refers to this, the gaegogi farm next to my house (shown in photo). There are two puppies you can't see in the first cage; they are sleeping behind the board. Although the kennels are pretty dark, the puppies usually come over and wag their tails as I pass by. They are very curious about me, and press their darling little noses through the iron bars and raise their paws at me. This dog is bread specifically for meat. I have seen the dogs (dead, of course) without their skins in the freezer outside one of the boshintang restauraunts. I thought I was seeing things, but when I went closer, I saw that the carcasses still had the paws attached. The freezer was clearly labelled "Gaegogi;" the freezaer cover is taken off at night when the sexy clubs open. Presumably, you can choose your own meat. They look like stringy, tasteless meat to me; these dogs appear to be all coat. I can't imaging them tasting very good, and the aroma is very gamey.

Dogs aside, there is an evil aura on this side of town. Some people have perception beyond the temporal world; my friend is one of them, and this place scares her. My Korean friend from Seoul was also uneasy about this place. Some dark deeds have occured here in the past, and a malicious spirit lingers. Although not gifted with the Second Sight (thank God!), I knew something wasn't "right" the first night I slept in that apartment. There is a spirit of hopelessness and heavy oppression in these parts. Korea's only serial killer stuck in this small town; maybe his deeds were performed on this spot. The building is only 5 years old, and this land was country wasteland before. Who knows? It is a dark, unfriendly road that leads to the complex, bordered by the train tracks. It is the perfect place for a quiet murder...

TEACHER'S NOTES: Eau-de-Pig-Shit

Some people have requested that I write more about my in-classroom teaching experiences, so here it goes…It is a long one!

I have been putting in “overtime” hours at two tiny country schools for two weeks now. These elementary schools are literally in the middle of nowhere, but are well-maintained and apparently well-funded. The buildings are bright, clean, and conducive to childhood learning. The property has a school garden and a rabbit hutch which they are responsible for tending. My first elementary school has only 78 students total, and the second has about 80.

No one is rich in the agriculture center of Korea, and it is here that the status of “developing country” can be palpably felt. South Korea is not a “third-world country,” but a “second world” (i.e. like Italy). There are subtle signs of near-poverty among the students, although no one is starving – far from it! Some of the children, however, are a little too “fragrant,” some appear to have minor health problems, most noticeably runny eyes, and some of them have unwashed clothes. Although in the minority, those students do stand out. The classes have anywhere from ten to fifteen students, which is usually quite manageable.

In the mornings, a driver in a mini-van picks up me, another teacher, and two assistants. We then wind our way though endless rice fields, hamlets, and pig farms. As we exit the van, the unmistakable scent of “eau-de-pig-shit” wafts in the breeze. The school yard is damp this morning from two days of thunderstorms, and the ruddy thick mud clings to our shoes. We slip of our shoes immediately as we enter the building and temporarily place them on the industrial rug. We pad over in our socks to a row of foot lockers about three across and five high. Inside each locker is a pair of black rubber slippers, which my Korean assistant laughingly called “ajushi slippers.” They are typically worn by older men in real life (ajushi means married man) and are ridiculously large for us to wear. I fall out of them several times as I get used to balancing on this odd-looking footwear, and my heel easily slips out the back of the backless shoes and I teeter precariously on the inch high soles. We place our street shoes in the numbered lockers, and move into the teacher’s lounge.

Today is my second time in the school. I teach a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth grade class for 40 minutes each. There are ten minute breaks between the classes. This morning, there is a change. I am ushered into the principal’s office. I did not meet him last week, as he was not on campus. He is a weathered, middle-aged, and soft-spoken gentleman, dressed in a slightly ill-fitting grey suit. He appeared to be very nervous and uncomfortable. He bashfully explained, through an interpreter, that he did not speak English at all. He had tried to learn by using language tapes, but had by and large failed to grasp it. This is not at all surprising, as I will explain later. His assistant brought my assistant and me a cup and saucer of green tea. The china was very nice, not the usual Dixie cup for everyday use. He did not seem to know what to say to me, and kept clenching and unclenching his hands. It is my custom to try and “draw out” shy people, but I failed in this instance. Awkward silence prevailed. TICK….TICK…TICK…

Through my interpreter, he ventured that it was very difficult to find native English speakers who were willing to come out to the country. He himself commuted from Mokpo, a reasonably sized country town about 40 km away. I assured him that I didn’t mind the country, as I grew up in a small town only renowned for strawberries. I mentioned that my hometown was next to the ocean, but that I didn’t care for seafood. My interpreter fell silent, and seemed reluctant to translate what I had said, other than “strawberry” (in Korean).

TICK…TICK…TICK…I made a few abortive attempts at conversation to put him at ease, but my recalcitrant interpreter did not bother to translate my small talk. I know she understood me, because I have had a regular English conversation with her before, so I can only surmise that I broke some unwritten social rule, though it absolutely eludes me as to what. I was as gentle, non-aggressive, and polite as I could be. I bowed and shook hands on the way out (as I have seen Korean business people do many times), which seemed to fluster the principal. He was probably relieved to see me go!

I went to my third grade class, and learned very quickly what I was up against. Korean education is taught solely by rote – memorization, repetition, and endless copying. Although my student’s knew the “ABC Song,” it became clear that they did not realize each letter stood for a SOUND. They gladly aped and repeated everything I said, even copying my vocal patterns, but there was no understanding behind the words. I tried to teach them the names of countries (the unit being “Where are you from?”) but they could not string words together and form sentences other than through repeating the sounds I made. My assistant helpfully (and perhaps sarcastically?) pointed out this problem, saying that it was “too difficult” for them. Well, duh, of course it is! You can’t run before you can crawl, but that is exactly what the Korean “English curriculum” demands. I was instructed to follow the chapters, though I do not have to use the book as written. Thank goodness for that.

The Korean “English curriculum” is a big, fat joke, and reminds me very much of the “whole language learning” craze in California public school during the 1980s. My grandmother, who was a teacher, almost resigned over these ridiculous methods, which ultimately lead to thousands of high school students in the late 90s who could barely read or write a sentence!

I call this sort of learning the “Professor Harold Hill School of Education.” For those of you who don’t know, this refers to the swindler character in the musical THE MUSIC MAN. “Whole language” threw out the idea of teaching phonics and grammar, with the basic premise that children learn language from being surrounded by it, listening to native speakers, and using their own “learning intuition.” There is no question that some of this is valid – young children learn by imitation. But the human mind needs patterns and discipline as well – in English, this means grammar and phonics. Whole language learning tacitly assumes that the child is surrounded by native English speakers, which in California is seldom true! The children learned the odd and incorrect English from their non-native parents, leading to confusion, frustration, and disintegration of language structure.

There is a prevailing though in Korean educators that “Gee, if we hire native English speakers to teach our children, they will speak better and pass more tests. But let’s not change the curriculum. Maybe the native speaker can, though magic osmosis, repeat words, play new games, and explain the rules of English grammar. We don’t need to hire credentialed teachers, can’t pay ‘em much anyway. We will just take any native speaker with a B.A. or B.S. who is blond, has blue eyes, is reasonably attractive, and hope our children will learn though exposure to pretty people!” I am exaggerating of course, but not by much. Teachers in Korea are the highest paid in the world – young men are told by their parents that the best wife is 2) a teacher, and 1) a pretty teacher! Along with the money grubbers are dedicated teachers who are sincerely interested in their students’ well-fare. The schools, as I said, are well-funded by the government.

“Well, back to the drawing board,’ I sighed to myself after a full day of failed lessons based off of the Korean curriculum. The students are, for all intents and purposes, rank beginners, although a few have studied for almost two years. When I tactfully asked their teachers about this, they said, “Well, they are country students,” as if that is an answer! They cannot read or write; they understand a little of what you say but cannot answer direct questions. I was very saddened by this development; I sincerely wish these children to learn and enjoy learning English. Rote repetition is not going to do this.

I tried to pick the brains of the homeroom teachers as to what they wanted me to do to supplement their teaching, but all I got was indifferent shrugs. No one seems to know where to start, myself included. I asked if they had taught any phonics – blank stares. Any writing? A rueful head shake “No.” Reading? No. ABCs? Bright smile “ABC Song!”

I ended my day on a high note - one of my sixth grade classes (nine boys, one girl!) is lively, easily engaged, and approaching “low intermediate” level. In full rebellion against the Korean textbook, I taught MY way. I got all of those rowdy boys on their feet, clapping out tongue twisters (Andy ran from the Andes to the Indies in his undies), doing the “North South East West” dance, and moving about the room. I got through left/right, ordinals, “where?” prepositions, and pronunciation all in 40 minutes. I did the letter “A” in the lower classes, having them write and trace the letter and name off words.

The lower grades have some discipline issues; they cannot understand me so they try to do what they want. The students spend long periods of time unsupervised; if there is a staff meeting, for example, the students are left to their own devices. One of the classes today was apparently without a teacher for the day – I came in and discovered they had all made origami flowers. At least they were creative rather than destructive. Several classrooms today were devoid of teachers, and I wonder if this is a regular occurrence.

I have instilled my own rudimentary discipline on the students, but I am afraid it backfired on me. One boy said something nasty to a girl and she began to cry, so I sent him to the corner with his hands braced against the wall above his head (a common Korean punishment). After a time, I made him apologize to her, but then belatedly remembered that a)Koreans never apologize (to admit wrong in a country continuously occupied could get you killed!) and b) the student did not know the meaning of the words he said, ‘I’m sorry.” I will have to rethink my classroom management style, as it does not apply if the children do not understand you!

After my day was over, I found myself in a blue mood. Not only had almost every lesson plan failed, my assistant (who is a grad student at my university) had felt moved to point this out. She was also very amused at my reaction to lunch – octopus tentacle soup, but to me it was no laughing matter. Yes, I did eat some – tastes like chicken gristle, but with purple tentacles attached! I am playing a game with rules I haven’t been given. Even though it is not my “main job,” I am compelled to make these children succeed. There teachers don’t appear to have any faith in them. I want to see their happy faces brighten up with understanding, not crumple up blank and confused like today. Korean children have unusually expressive faces…

Still depressed, I went home and took a nap. I woke up refreshed and formed my resolve. I am going to focus on phonics and writing from now on, none of this silly empty conversation crap. Even if I have to build language letter by letter and sound by sound, I will do it. My goal is to have them speaking sentences by the end of the semester AND UNDERSTANDING EACH WORD in those sentences.

Accordingly, this evening I went to the bookstore, and browsed their textbook section. I bought, out of my own money, a textbook on phonics and a basic sentence building-based primer. I will use these tools as a basis for writing, vocabulary building, and reading comprehension. As much as possible, I will keep to the themes of the Korean textbooks, if not the content or structure, but I will not go out of my way to do so if I feel they are not ready for it.

You have to crawl before you can walk, and you have to walk before you can run. Out of adversity comes experience, out of experience comes character, and out of character comes success!

JOURNAL: Confessions of a Madwoman

I returned to Korea on February 27th after a long and relatively uneventful flight. I was very sad to leave the US again, and I considered not returning to the mess over here at all. So what stopped me? Well, here are my reasons:

1) Even though I have been ripped off, lied to, and placed in housing not fit for human habitation, I have decided not to play the game. I will uphold my word of honor, something I do not give lightly, even though the university has not kept strictly within the bounds of my contract. I will "let my 'yes' be my 'yes' and my 'no' be my 'no.'" Call me a fool, but honor is more important to me.

2) With the above said, the new administration, at our level at least, is trying to make necessary changes. Altough the powers-that-be flat out refused to let me move out and choose my own apartment, they did agreee to let me move to another apartment within the same building. The new head of the department has lived in the USA and has a decidedly Western attitude towards management, but he also recognizes that we have to deal with "Korean efficiency." He appears to be willing to be transparent with what is going on "upstairs."

3) This is an excellent resume builder. I would ideally like to work as a corporate trainer, teaching writing, speaking, and even ESL to employees of a large company. I know such positions exist, but I am a bit at a loss for where and how to obtain this sort of position. Any help would be appreciated...

4) I enjoy teaching the classes. The students are reasonably motivated, and I have learned quite a bit about teaching this year. I have always been creative, and this postition has truly allowed me to grow in wisdom and knowledge.

On a lighter note, Here is what occured when I came back to Korea:

It was 10:00 pm by the time I arrived in Byengjeom. The drunks were out in full force by then, and the taxi driver had difficulty passing through the street without mowing them down. I had two large bags on wheels, a hiking backpack, and a laptop bag with me - a heavy load by anyone's standards. Slick Willie (the liason) positively assured me via email that my apartment would be moved by the time I returned and that the apartment manager would leave the key in the mailbox for me. I should have known better and stayed in a hotel.

Needless to say, the key was NOT in the mailbox, and my cellphone was out of minutes because they time out from disuse over a certain period of time.

"Well," as I reasoned it, "as of last week the apartment had not yet been moved; maybe they forgot."

I decided to go to my old apartment in the same building and try the key. Lugging my baggage with me, I took the elevator to the fifth floor. I put my key in the lock and the door opened...sort of. The door handle had been taped at one end and anchored with more tape to a point inside the apartment like a makeshift "latch." I then noticed that the entrance way, what little I could see of it, contained clutter that was decidedly NOT mine. As I stood there, flabbergasted, a timid and frightened female voice inquired, "Aneong haseyo?"

"Errmm...hello? This is my apartment!" was all I could think of to say.

I tried to talk to the new occupant, but she was clearly frightened and shut the door firmly. That was when I lost it. I tried to roll my suitcases back to the elevator, but the largest one broke. Lack of sleep for 24 hours, the ridiculous situation I was in, and the inability to form a coherent thought finally overcame my good senses. Stomping, cursing, crying, and muttering like an idiot "but this is MY apartment! What do I do now? &^%$, &*!@, *&^%," I dragged the now defunct suitcase angrily back down the hall. As I moved away from my apparently "ex" apartment, I heard the new occupant sliding furniture against the door, and I added giggling to the mix. I could see the situation from her point of view very clearly - crazy American woman, probably drunk, a kidnapper still on the loose, and late at night to boot!

I left my luggage outside my new apartment (I hoped), and braved the drunk men to go into town to use the payphone. Naturally, they were all hanging around the phone booths, and were in a particularly frisky and jocular mood. I haughtily brushed passed them, startling some very alarmed street cats, who had been placidly munching on scraps from the impromptu and very ripe garbage pile next to the payphones. This proved to be an excellent, if unintentional, plan of action, as one of the oglers was sufficiently distracted to chase the fleeing cats under the cars. Koreans generally hate cats. This bought me enough time to make my call.

I angrily upbraided Slick Willie for not upholding his end of the deal, and he called the apartment manager. When I called him back a bit later, he said the manager was already on his way; aparently the manager had gotten a phone call from the very frightened new occupant! I got my keys.

The apartment manager refused the gift I brought from California to thank him for his trouble in moving all my belongings, and I can't say I blame him. It wasn't the usual "first refusal" Koreans give when offerd a gift, either. He was very annoyed, and I wonder if Slick Willie ever even told him about leaving the key in the mailbox.

I more or less made peace with Mr. Kim the next day, but kept the gift (Sees Candies) for myself!

My Internet still doesn't work, but the other appliances seem in fine order. Of course, the apartment was NOT cleaned; in fact there were old cigarette butts in the sink (eww!). But I will make like a Korean - wisk out my cleaning tools, and DEAL WITH IT!

JOURNAL: On Sabbatical

I am currently "on Sabbatical" in California for some much needed r & r. I am finally getting over my winter cold after three weeks...sigh.

I have been cleaning out my old room in preparation for moving back out when I reurn to the US for good. I didn't know I had saved so much junk. Blame Oprah; I don't usually watch it but last week I did. A guest she had (his name escapes me) suggested that people who have physical clutter around also have weight and depression issues!

So, I am downsizing my lfie. If I am indeeed fated for a gypsy existence, then clutter is not very helpful. On that note...

My apartment in Korea is being moved; I will be going to a different apartment in the same building. This will not help with the noise level, but it might help with my utilities. Since I have been living in the "shithole," I have gone without power, water, and plumbing for 48 hour periods of time (it always happens at night or on the weekend!). My pipes froze when I went to Saipan; the apartment manager took a blowtorch to the wall; the tile was of course scorched, and there is a big black hole by my sink. It didn't work, by the way, and I had to wait for 12 hours with space heaters before I had water again! Two days later, I took a shower, and the tiles fell off the wall; one shard went through my heel, but it was easy to get out and no infection set in.

I took photos of all the damage, and recorded the F16s flying over the building. I sent this in to the powers that be. They cannot get out of my lease, so they are putting a Band-aid over the problem by moving me to a differnt apartment in the same poorly-constructed building.

I am gettin tense as I type this; it is my vacation, the sun is out, and I'm going out to enjoy it...

PHOTO MOSAIC: Saipan and Tinian Islands in Winter

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JOURNAL: English Camp Diary Week 1

KOREAN RECIPE FOR ENGLISH CAMP
Ingredients:
8 dignified professors
200 children, ages 10-16
8 teaching assistants (TAs), English level varied
8 general assistants (GAs), English level varied
3 broken copiers
Lots and lots of rice, no vegetables
a dash of “Korean efficiency”

Directions:
1. Make dignified professors sing, dance, and teach camp songs.
2. Teach 200 children English at least two levels above their head.
3. Give direct authority to TAs and GAs, ignoring the fact that most of the said TAs/GAs are in the dignified professor’s classes during the semester.
4. Make sure that only one copier works at any given time. This is essential during prep time.
5. Eat lots and lots of rice, as you will be eating unidentifiable Korean cafeteria food most of the week. Hoard vegetables, as they will not be in your food much.
6. A dash of Korean efficiency is needed to ensure that insanity is lost at the earliest moment.
Mix together and enjoy your break from reality….!

I got a great group of homeroom kids. I see them four times a day, and they are the highest English speakers in the camp. I have two fourth grade boys and nine assorted fifth and sixth grade girls. One of the girls actually lived in Missouri; she is fast becoming the star of the camp due to her proficient English and charismatic personality.

On Monday, we tested all the kids to determine their level. The kids did reasonably well, and the camp director broke Korean tradition by placing them in classes more or less by LEVEL, rather than age/grade. Some of my Bongdam Elementary students made it into the camp, which I believe is determined by lottery.

Tuesday, we met out homeroom classes. The kids get up at 7:30am, wash, eat breakfast, and then come to their morning classes at 9:00am, which are Reading/Writing (2 periods) and Storytelling/Homeroom (2 periods). We eat lunch with the kids, and after a small break go into our afternoon classes. The two afternoon classes, Listening and Speaking, get out at 3:40pm. There is a long break, and we meet the kids for dinner at 5:50pm. After dinner, there are special project which we work on until 8:40pm. We leave at 9:00pm, but the kids have a snack and wash up before going to bed at 10:30pm. It is a tough schedule for them.

Wednesday through Friday our evening project was the Class Chant/Class Song Competition. This event also includes making a camp flag. My team named themselves the OGRES, which, according to them, means “Oh Great! R******’s English! .” The chant was very simple, but the song challenged them. I reluctantly rewrote Ricki Martin’s “Cup of Life” for the group, and my GA taught them a Latin dance to go with it. They did ok in the competition, but they are not exactly the cheerleader type. Neither am I, so we suit each other quite well. I am banking on their strong English and “hamming” skills to win the play competition in two weeks.

My TA has limited English. He is a university student here and is about 20 years old. We get along well, but he constantly forgets to speak English to the students. This really annoys me, but he cannot seem to remember. I feel like I have lost this battle; fortunately, the children remember to speak English when I am in the room. Otherwise, he is very attentive to the children and they like him. My GA is very pretty and cute; she is a PE major and is studying dance. She has a very gentle touch with the children, but is more than able to make them mind her!

The office space is a bit more difficult to deal with. We have only four computers for eight people. Some of them are not connected to a printer, and some of them are not connected to the Internet. As coworkers, we are not used to being with each other 24/7, so there have been some minor conflicts and scuffles.The Korean staff put in 16 hours a day, but they are used to being crowded. To my knowledge, no one has gotten in a snit over there. This is surprising, as they are very tired and overworked. But then, so is half the country...

This is the first time many of the TAs/GAs (read “Camp Counselors”) have been away from their parents, as Korean university students live with their parents until they graduate. It will be interesting to see how this plays out. I remember my summer camp experience; the counselors always seemed to hook up with each other at some point in time. One of my counselors (his name was “Kangaroo”) proposed to another (her name was “Twinkles”) at dinnertime in front of the whole camp. He was accepted, and we all cheered. I always wondered whether they did get married.

I’m glad I’m here at English Camp,
There’s nowhere I’d rather be,
But if I weren’t at English Camp,
A teacher I would be!

All right boys and girls, its English Camp time! Everybody ready? ASA!!!!!YEAH!!!!

JOURNAL: Skinship for the Skin-scared

I am back online now. I have been extraordinarily busy due to final exams, marking, and holiday planning. I will be in Saipan next week, where hopefully it will be sunny and warm...

In the second week of November, I finally partook of a Korean tradition that has me, well, scared out of my skin. It happened quite by accident, but in retrospect, I think it did me some good. I visited a jin-ju-bang. A jin-ju-bang is a public bath house. Those of us who are hygenically obsessed shudder to think about this, those of us who are modest shudder even more so.

The evening started out innocuously enough. My Korean friend Clara had a birthday party. It was scheduled late at night in a restaurant near Hongdae (Hongik University),an area noted in Seoul for its party-like atmosphere and underground dance clubs. Since alcohol, college students, dirty dancing, and sex usually go together, I presumed that there would be plenty of love motels around to crash at afterwards. As it turned out, I was only partially right.

The party was very nice; we ate at a decent Italian restaurant (a rarity in Korea) and even had a bottle of wine on the house! My other friend opted to pay the 60,000 Won cab fare (which Clara got knocked down to 30,000 Won) to return to her country town, but I opted to spend the night in Seoul. To my surprise, Clara offerd to join me; she later explained that the toilet in her apartment was broken.

Clara was very much on edge about staying in a love motel, even after I explained that they are unusually clean due to the nature of their business (to prevent STDs presumably)and also have internet access and satellite tv. Think Motel 6 mixed with the amenities of Comfort Inn. Waygooks like myself don't really care about what people do on the beds; in fact, some of the beds are downright uncomfortable and I wonder what the attraction is for those kinds of activities...

Anyway, we walked up and down the busy streets, but didn't find a single love motel. Not one in Hongdae. We tried a busy side street, and did find one legit hotel, but it was full. Finally, I saw a "motel" sign, the Hotel Bobo (meaning baby kisses). This sounded promising. Clara, who had taken my arm (Korean-style), disentangled herself and went to speak to the desk clerk, who was eying us nervously. I stood just outside the door. She quickly came out, whispering that the place was "evil." I had noted the extensive collection of pornographic films in the lobby, but this was not unusual for this kind of place. I asked her directly why she said that, and she cautiously whispered that it was a rent-by-the-hour establishment; what was left unsaid was our linked arms. Oh. I guess they do have some standards after all.

Finally, the decision was made to stay at a jin-ju-bang, a popular alternative for both foreigners and Korean travelers. Witihn the inner courts of these public baths are sleeping areas. I knew this, but could never get over my North American tendency to shun nudity among strangers. This turned out to be a blunder on my part, as the sleeping areas are "clothing areas" and coed. The rest was all true, though.

We entered the place and paid a small fee of 7,000 Won (about $7). The clerk asked us if we wanted "snacks," which we declined (Korean "snacks" can be anything from nuts to squid jerky), and handed us each a small pink towel. He also handed us long-sleeved pink t-shirts and "ajuma pants." Ajuma pants come just below the knee and have wide, rather unflattering legs that give short people the appearance of dwarfs.

We entered a small outer room, removed our shoes, and placed them in tiny, numbered lockers. These were keyed rather than padlocked. We then moved on to the regular locker room. The moment of truth. Due to my gym experiences in Seoul, I was not particularly unnerved by the naked Korean women wandering around because they were strangers. What did unnerve me was that I was with someone I knew.

Koreans have a concept known as "skinship," which some Westerners really struggle with. Physical contact between members of the same sex is normal, as a matter of fact, it is encouraged. Skinship, as the word suggests, is a deeper level of friendship than Westerners of the same gender are comfortable with. Nudity is a great equalizer; there is nowhere to hide. The stoic Koreans, I have found, are at their most open emotionally in the bathhouse and in the bar. Furthermore, there is no taboo about children seeing their parents undressed, nor any taboo for employers/employees, teachers/students, and friends of the same gender. Little boys are allowed to accompany their mothers or elder sisters into the bathhouse. Our Western hang-up is a product of Victorian times, I suspect. Even so, I was a bit non-plussed.

I waited until the locker room was reasonably empty, then took a deep breath and stripped. I placed my clothes neatly in the locker, then swiped my key past the lock. It was some sort of RFID device, and clicked shut, accompanied by digital music. Only one person stared at me, but she quickly looked away when I met her eyes and joined her friend. Clara and I then padded into the bathing room in our bare feet.

I felt like I had stepped back into time. It was a Roman bath. The tiled floor was wet, but not slippery. Three separate hot tub-like areas were on one side, and a sauna and scrubbing station were on the other side of the room. On the left side of the room, there was a showering area. This was the starting point, I learned. To call them showers is not quite accurate. There were hoses attached to shower nozzles, but they were not hung on the wall. Instead, there was a plastic stool to sit on with a mirror in front. Between each station was a bar of plain soap and a dumping pan. These bathing implements I had seen before, but only had a vague idea how they were supposed to be used exactly, especially the dumping pans. After covertly observing others, I began to copy their movements. I grabbed the used bar of soap, hygiene be damned, and began soaping up. I started with my face and worked downward. I scrubbed at my dry skin, noting that others had a special scrubbing cloth that I lacked. When my feet got tired, I sat on the soapy stool. It is a bit uncanny to see your reflection when you are this vulnerable, I decided. I then grabbed the hose and rinsed off. But then I observed one final step. I watched people fill the pan from the hose with water (it holds about 4-5 gallons), soap up, scrub down, and dump the entire thing over their head. They do this several times; the Koreans are very clean people. So, feeling slightly idiotic, I followed suit. It is surprisingly effective at rinsing; once is enough!

Then, I looked around a bit more. There was some kind of well near the entrance, but I never discerned what it was used for exactly. The four "hot tubs," I learned, were different temperature baths. Each bath was fed fresh water by a steady stream emerging from the fanciful fish mouths mounted on the wall. The water was not chlorinated, but there was no need; everyone is expected to have taken care of personal hygiene BEFORE entering the pools. The first bath was the hottest, and had powerful jets churning the water. There was a less heated, but still toasty, tub in the center of the bathing area. This one seemed to be the most popular, so I avoided it in deference to my modesty. My personal limits precluded me from sitting in a tub full of ten naked women.

The next bath was reasonably empty. It was still very warm, but only one other girl was in there. This pool had bar rails just above the surface dividing the water into three areas. I idly wondered what they were for. Placing my towel on my head Korean-style, I slid into the pool. I am the avereage height for a Korean female; this greatly benefited me because the seating was curved to fit a slightly reclined body. My shoulders were just beneath the water. I was in heaven. Above my head was a small red button, which I surmised was for "help." Then, two young women joined me. They tried to communicate to me that they would like to push the red button. I acquiesced, infinately curious. As I turned towards them, it happened. The red button controlled the hidden jets on the curved seating. The jets are cleverly placed so as not to hit you in any...uncomfortable...places, but I was slightly turned so I got hit full force. I squeaked and crossed my ankles; the girls giggled and showed me how to sit properly and grab the rails. The powerful jets were almost painful, but after a few minutes they were quite soothing to my lower back pain, neck pain, and lower calf tension. After about 15 minutes, I went to join Clara in the sauna.

The sauna was unbeleivably hot, in fact, I could stay no more than 5 minutes in there. There is a ten-minute hourglass for your convenience inside, but I couldn't stay even that long. Clara had been in there for 30 minutes. Koreans still believe that sweating is good for all sorts of ailments including obesity, rheumatism, and virility (which seems to be a Korean male hang-up). It takes quite a bit of effort for a Korean to sweat; some older people actually were SLEEPING in the sauna with no visible effects.

We emerged and I observed with interest the scrubbing station. Westerners I have talked to call this feature of the bath the "ajuma scrub" ("ajashi scrub" if you are a man). Clara actually has trained as a beautician and said that it was very good for your skin. At the time, I had quite a bit of irritating dead skin, so I asked her to translate the "menu" of delights. I finally chose the full works - full body scrub, oil, cucumber facial, and massage. I observed the three-middle aged women at their work, and decide to risk it.

It was also a chance for personal growth. In recent years I have become rather unsatisfied with my appearance. Things begin to expand, sag, and mottle as one ages. The weight gain is especially disturbing to me, the other effects have not set in too much as of yet. For me to be there, even with women in worse physical shape that I was in, was very difficult. I mentioned this to Clara, but she did not seem to understand. I explained that American women don't like to be naked in front of other women because we all look different, for better or for worse, and can be very critical of each other. Koreans are too, but they don't take it personally when someone says, "You're fat! You should diet!" They take it as advice. Puzzled, Clara replied to my explanation, "But we all have the same thing."

We wandered around the place for awhile while I waited for my turn. There was more than one sauna; as it turned out, there were four. In the coed area, there were two wood-fired saunas. Another sauna had heated rocks instead of a wooden floor. The men wore white uniforms and the women wore pink. There was also a snack bar.

There were scattered sleeping areas, with mats and hard pillows at anyone's disposal. People simply camped wherever they felt like it. Families lined up their mats in a row, wrapping their children in blankets. Young couples snuggled up on one mat, contented smiles curving their lips as they dreamed of each other. Old men, young men, aging ladies, and teenagers, all were equalized in the twilight of sleep. I marveled at how contented they all looked. I am a restless sleeper, the sign of a restless mind. Is it possible to be so content? Moreover, is it possible to be so trusting, to sleep among strangers?

I returned to the bath, where the ajuma ordered me to soak for ten minutes in the bath to rewet my skin. She then called me over. The three ladies were clothed only in bras and underwear; my scrubber had on a wild leopard print "set-u." She was well-past middle-age and I suspect she may have even had grandchildren. She ordered me to lie down on the vinyl-covered table. She then donned one of the special scrubbing mitts, took a few swipes from a plain bar of soap, and began her work. The amount of trust I had to muster was almost unbearable, yet as she progressed, I began to relax. At first, the sensation was of sandpaper, a little uncomfortable, but tolerable.

As I began to relax, she increased the pressure. I entered a quiet realm within my own mind as she worked, occasionally jolted out by a tinge of discomfort. She worked from head to torso, then feet to middle. No area was left unscrubbed, including areas that had not been handled since babyhood. I tensed up when she ran the mitt between my thigh and pubic bone, but she didn't seem to notice. She was very intent on her work, and a calming image of a mother scrubbing a newborn child filled my mind. To her, that was what I was at the moment, a soapy, sleepy baby. She ordered me to turn over and began on my back. At one point, she got on the table with me, sitting on my lower back in order to get a deeper scrub. This struck me as humorous, a nearly-naked old Korean woman squatting on top of a Rubenesque blonde American. I giggled, but she pretended not to notice. After this treatment, she brought the
dumping pan, and sloshed me down with hot water. Layer after layer of skin lay dead on the table. "Ewwww....Did all of that come from me?" I wondered (it had).

She then began a process of slapping scalding hot towels on my back. She let them lay on me for a few moments, then "Whack! Whack! Whack!" She slapped my skin through the towels, repeating the process until the towels cooled. She did this on my front side as well. It was painful, but my muscles surprisingly obeyed and began to relax. Another woman came, and put a gooey mixture of cold thick lotion on my face, replete with actual diced cucumber chunks. She then covered the mess with a cheesecloth, clearing just enough room for my nostrils. I could not open my eyes, and once again, my trust was tested.

The ajuma began to dribble a cold, oily substance on my skin. It had a pleasant aroma, and she used it to deeply massage my muscles. I have had Western massages before, but this was different. This was deep muscle work, including muscles that no one has ever considered before. The pectoral muscles, for example, the ones that support your upper chest; it surprised me how much those muscles ached. She then poured another liquid on me; it smelled vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. I was completely at her mercy, but she was so impersonal, so focused. I was just another body to her. It was liberating.

The mask was removed, and I slowly glided back to reality. I showered and Clara came to check on my progress (she had had a facial). The second substance that seemed familiar turned out to be milk. I had been given a milk bath! Clara seemed surprised when she saw me. "Wow, you are two shades lighter!" I looked in the mirror. She was right! The remnants of my summer tan lay in a soggy mess on the floor. My skin was a smooth as a baby, and my face was clear and bright.

Clara and I decided it was time to go to sleep. It was 4:00 in the morning, the traditional time of cleaning the baths (they are open 24 hours a day). We dressed in our baggy, but comfortable uniforms, and began mat hunting. It took some effort, as everyone else was doing the same thing, but we finally scored. We found space in the tv room in front of the television. Head to foot with total strangers, I was unable to even doze. After an hour, we left. I caught the early subway home, and fell into a dreamless sleep...

I do not think Americans are ready to accept such a place, and yet every American foreigner I have spoken to has said the Korean jin-ju-bangs are the highlight of their stay in Korea. Many people I know go at least once a week. Unfortunately, Byeongjeom doesn't have a "reputable" one, so people go by the university. Some gyms also have them. I would like to go back, but I am not sure I have the courage to go alone.

JOURNAL: Espionage

I just downloaded a nifty little tool called a "Sitemeter." It can be found at the very bottom of my blog page. It is rather fun to know how many people are looking at my page...Haha, I see you!

I finished the unit on marriage and dating (Korea style), and I was very pleased with how well things went. I got a nice view of where the "new" generation is coming from. I gave each conversation group the same questionaire, and divided the men from the women to prevent war. Some things are universal, but some things are most definately cultural. Here are my findings, completely unscientific, of course.

What Korean Men Want in a Date: pretty, funny, slim; easy to talk to
What Korean Men Want in a Wife: good cook, good finacial manager, good worker, good mother

One man (married) said that being "like a mother" is important. When I asked him what he meant (thinking it was a lost-in-translation moment) he said that men often act like children...!

What Korean Men Hate About Women: shopping, too talkative

One young man said that his girlfriend was always talking, "but sometimes, I just want it to be silent!"

What Korean Women Want in a Date: "taller than me," handsome, slim, money, sense of humor
What Korean Women Want in a Husband: share chores, good communicator, money

When these results were communicated to the young men, the stunned look on a few male faces turned to disgust. "Women want a prince," one guy scoffed.

What Korean Women Hate About Men: public spitting, smoking, do not talk enough/listen, "they take up too much room"

When I asked about the last one, the women explained further. When women get on public transit, or sit next to a man anywhere, the man tends to lean back, stretch out his knees, and squash the women next to him into a small space. Korean women don't usually fight back. When this happens to me, I just hold my space rigidly, but it is not the custom here, apparently.

I carefully avoided "sex"-related questions, but the subject did come up indirectly a few times. We did some comparison between American and Korean culture; I gave the students the article I posted earlier in October, as well as an American survey article. I also played the quintessential Meatloaf song, "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" to give them a feel for teen romance. I also gave them some idiomatic (to catch your eye) and even current slang words (drunk dialing, making out, etc.) relating to dating and relationships. The baseball analogy (first base, second base, home run, etc.) did elicit a few giggles, and in one case, tears of laughter (I feel your pain, bro?).

There were no big surprises in my survey results. What did alarm me, however, was the shallowness of some of the younger womens' responses. Given that many of the women will be married right after college, these tendencies are alarming. Perhaps it is a cultural thing, or perhaps it is immaturity, but not one of the men or women discussed important character traits in their future spouse question. They were all focused on money, labor division, etc. Interestingly enough, the married members of the class were more in depth about these sorts of things. I did notice that women in general are very focused on external beauty, wealth, and status. Of course, this is a universal thing in many ways, but it also poses a difficulty for the men in this country. They are very traditional-minded about women - good cook and all. How on earth do any of them ever get along? I think many hearts will break when the honeymoon is over.

One young man (single), however, spoke very eloquently about physical beauty,"If she is funny and intelligent, I will like her. What she looks like is not important to me." The women did not appear to believe him, but I could tell he was sincere. The woman he marries will be a very fortunate woman...(Why can't I find one like that in MY age group?!)

What also struck me is that many of the simpler questions caused problems for the class. This was a big cultural difference; no one had given much thoguht to things such as "what makes a good marriage," "good spouse," "fun date," etc. Is this part of the "group" mentality, somehow? If I gave the same survey to a group of college/post-graduate Western students, these questions would cause no mental anguish; instead, I would likely get 26 different answers!

Dr. John Grey, of the now infamous "Mars and Venus" self-help books, states that the biggest complaint that men have about women is that women try to change men. The biggest complaint that women have about women is thta men don't listen. The class agreed heartily with these statements; this, at least, is very universal.

NOTE: Aaaargh...Pardon My Dust

Dear Readers,

I am having some technical difficulties with both my computer and the Internet. I have posted a photo essay, but for some reason it reverted to "October 12," the day I began it. Yes, it has taken this long to get it up due to technical problems. I have lost the blog entirely once, and parts of it at various times due to random Internet "blackouts." Look under "October 12, 2006," and you will see my semi-finished blog...well, a draft of it. I cannot get the editing mode to work correctly. Grrrrrr.......

Pardon my dust.

Emerald Lady

NOTE: Are There Any Good Men Out There?! A Response to an Article

In two weeks time, I will be doing a unit with my adult Institute students on marriage, dating, and the "battle of the sexes." They are very interested in this subject, as many of them are at Korean marrying age (27-28 men, 25-26 girls) or are already married. In order to prepare this unit, I have been doing some research online and thumbing through English magazines (Glamour, GQ, and Esquire). I am also forcing myself to read, with much retching and reluctance, "Men Are From Mars, Women are from Venus." These magazines and the book all have Korean editions, but the articles are strogly censored and/or omitted in deference to Korean culture;as I am finding out, however, my students are reasonably informed, albeit through word of mouth.

During my research, I have reached several painful conclusions.

1) "Traditional morals" are at an all-time low. "Should you kiss on the first date?" has been replaced "Should you sleep with someone on the first date?" The answer, as any girl of experience will tell you, is "No" but with the addendum that "If you do that, he will never call back!" Yet, from the men's point of view, a girl who saves herself for a later date is seen as a "tease" or a "marriage trap." I had one (EX!)boyfriend tell me, when I disabused him of this notion, that "What is the point in locking the barn door? The horse has already bolted!" I glared at him, took the key back, and locked the door.

2) Many men still expect to marry virgins, although inexperienced women may apply. The average American woman, by some accounts, has had 10-20 partners by age 30. 60%-80% (depending on your sources) of women have had or currently have an STD. As it is usually a man who convinces, seduces, or tricks the said woman into giving up her purity, this expectation is unfair and unreasonable.

3) Women are FURIOUS at men, to the extreme that more and more women are choosing a single life. "I would rather do it myself than trust someone to do it for me," is the mantra. Much bitterness, cynicism, and fear have created these "megawomen," and while I do not condone their behavior, I understand it.

Through many bitter relationships, emotional torment, and disappointments in my twenties, I took this stance firmly and unwaveringly. In the past couple of years however, I have realized, maybe a bit too late, that I DO want a life partner, a companion, and a friend to support me in life. As I grow older, I am less willing to take the lead in a relationship; there is something comforting in dating a man who is courteous and takes care of you.

One of the more charming things about the two Korean men I dated while here was the text messaging. Even if there was no time to speak or meet, every day I would receive short, pithy text messages with those annoyingly cute smiley/kissy faces right before going to bed. It annoyed me at first, independent woman that I am, especially as they were meaningless in words. I remember one message saying, "It's cold out tonight. Be sure and wear your coat!" Sometimes I responded, sometimes I did not. Then, one day, he (the first one) did not text. Was he angry at me? I caleld him the next day; he had gotten caught up in work until 2 a.m. and did not want to wake me up with a message on my cell phone (they make a looud noise when a message comes through).

4) And marriage? I have cut and pasted an article I came across today on http://www.LHJ.com It says it all:

Afraid to Commit: Young Men Want to Wait on Marriage
About the Study
They want kids, houses and sex. And they want women, too -- but not in the form of wives. Not until they're older.
So says the latest study to probe the minds of America's young men, aged 25 to 33. The study found 10 reasons men won't commit -- from the ease of finding sex partners to the desire to avoid financial risks of divorce.
Men do want to marry and have children eventually, the study found, and men greatly value the institution of marriage. But they love their single life and experience few of the traditional pressures from church, employers or society that once encouraged them to marry. Then, too, living together gives men many of the benefits of marriage without the obligations, the study said. And society accepts cohabitation.
The authors of the study, called The State of Our Unions, said they were puzzled by their findings, based on face-to-face group interviews with 60 heterosexual men in Chicago, New Jersey, Washington, D.C. and Houston. The majority of the men are employed full-time with reported annual incomes between $21,000 and $35,000. Most have had some college or hold a BA. None of the men were married; three had children.
"Marriage is a fundamental social institution. It is central to the nurture and raising of children... and the 'social glue' that reliably attaches fathers to children," noted the authors in their 32-page report. "[Marriage] contributes to the physical, emotional and economic health of men, women and children, and thus to the nation as a whole."
10 Reasons Men Won't Commit
Reason 1: Men can get sex without marriage more easily than in times past. The men reported that meeting women is easy: at bars, through friends, at work, and on the Internet. Though men want to become friends with a woman before becoming seriously involved, casual sex, they said, is easy to come by.
Reason 2: Men can enjoy the benefits of having a wife by cohabiting rather than marrying. Men think living together is a good way to test out a marriage prospect. They also view living together as less risky than marriage. At the same time, the men in the study like the convenience of having a regular sex partner. And several said they appreciate the domestic benefits of cohabitation, and the ability to share expenses, but thought marriage unnecessary at this point in life.
Reason 3: Men want to avoid divorce and its financial risks. Men feel that their financial assets are better protected if they cohabit rather than marry. They also fear that an ex-wife will take financial advantage during settlement proceedings.
Reason 4: Men want to wait until they are older to have children. Although men understand that women worry about their biological clocks, they say they don't have to. And they don't want to be pressured into marriage by women who want marriage in order to have children.
Reason 5: Men fear that marriage will require too many changes and compromises. The men savor their freedom to enjoy hobbies, late nights out and freedom from extra financial burdens. They want to postpone absorbing extra responsibilities until they are on extra-solid footing in a number of areas.
Reason 6: Men are waiting for the perfect soul mate and she hasn't yet appeared. A soul mate, the men said, is a woman who accepts them just as they are and won't try to change them. The men said they don't want to settle for second-best. In some cases, the men even said they were living with a woman who was their version of a second-best partner. These men are continuing to hunt for the perfect soul mate.
Reason 7: Men face few social pressures to marry. Today's young men encounter few traditional pressures from religion, employers or society to marry. Some said they have been mildly teased from parents who want grandchildren, but most of the men said their parents are willing to help support them -- and even allow them to move back home -- until they are ready to marry.
Reason 8: Men are reluctant to marry a woman who already has children. Men said they feel badly if they establish a relationship with the children of a woman and then break up with the mother. They also want to avoid competition and conflict with the children's biological father. One man says that it is easier to date a woman with children if the father is entirely out of the picture.
Reason 9: They want to own a house before they get a wife. Men want to be financially "set" before they marry. For many men, this means home ownership should come before marriage. Most of the men interviewed are living with a parent, relative, roommates or girlfriends.
Reason 10: Men want to enjoy a single life as long as they can. Men fear losing their solitary pleasures by marrying, the study found. And they become accustomed to their own space and routines. They enjoy the freedom of not having to be responsible to anyone else.
Other Findings
The study also reached some additional conclusions. Among them:
• Men believe it's best to become friends with a woman before asking her out on a date. Several said they are uncomfortable talking to strangers in bars and appreciate the benefits of a meaningful relationship that grows from friendship.
• The men are generally opposed to having a romantic relationship with a woman who works in their place of employment.
• The men want their wives to work outside the home. They think a wife who works will be a more interesting companion.
• Though the support working wives, the men were less supportive of working mothers. The concensus among the men interviewed is that one parent should stay home or care should be provided by a relative.
• The men were highly critical of divorce. But they feel that couples should break up if they fall out of love, even if kids are involved.
• The men were not optimistic about the future of marriage as a lifelong commitment. They said people continue to change and grow and this makes it harder to stay married to one person for a lifetime.
What Men Are Saying
Here's the reaction we've received from men nationwide.
"You should have an article on why divorced men will not marry again. The responses would be very interesting. For example:
• They've already been taken to the cleaners at least once by a prior wife.
• If a woman has kids, she really has no use for a man. She's got the house, the BMW, the kids, and his support and alimony.
• The women of today have taken the place of the man from yesteryear. They are today what they thought men were 40 years ago.
• They run the risk of meeting a female divorce attorney.
I'm not bitter, just realistic."
"It is no surprise that young men are unwilling to commit to marry when their partners are willing to live with them and provide sexual and domestic services. The old and crude adage is still true: 'Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?'"
"First, let me say that the problem exists for both men and women. The single life has its challenges at any age (I'm 50), and I have had trouble meeting 'Ms. Right.' In the old European days, we had the infamous 'match maker' and now we have dating services, Internet dating, and of course 'Have I got a friend for you!' In all cases, it's a roll of the dice and requires a great deal of luck. It's a sad reflection on our society that there are so many of us out there, trying every possible way to meet the person that will fill that void."
"I'm tired of the b.s. that it takes to even try to find a good woman. In 90% of my prior relationships, I gave 110% to trying to forge a marriage. But that was only good for some half-hearted affection that soon disappears after the ring is brought forth. Then it's all about what she needs, or worse yet -- what her children need. I'm tired of trying to weed through the predatory women. It costs too much to the kind man's heart. So I quit."
"Most of the guys I know have watched their friends get married and see all the problems, arguments, and b.s. that married men go through. And then they see the divorce, alimony, and child support. Case in point is my own situation. I'll never marry again."
"You forgot this reason: Getting raked over the coals for child support should divorce occur. The current system does not judge each circumstance on a case-by-case basis, and guys usually end up having their financial lives destroyed. In my opinion, men should refuse to marry until the insanity of the legal system is removed."
"The article on single males slow to commit was straight on. My reasons are the same as the men you interviewed: I still believe my destined girl is out there; I do not want to deal with another man's children; and I am afraid of the financial impact of divorce."


What Women Are Saying
American women have strong feelings on the issue as well. Here's what they had to say.
"Am I the only woman for whom a husband is not a badge of honor? I have noticed the looks on faces of my more traditional friends when I say that I do not have to be married. I have been married, and it was not what they talk about in Hallmark cards. Fortunately, my current beau is a gorgeous and fun divorcee who is also marriage-shy. This may be the most in sync I have ever been with a man!"
"I have lived with my boyfriend for eight years. We share everything, but he will not take that last step and get married. If something was to happen to him today, I would be out in the cold. I have helped him establish a home, fixed it up, and take care of it, but my name is nowhere on anything."
"The article 'Afraid to Commit: Young Men Want to Wait on Marriage' makes all women sound like they are desperate to "hook" a man! It insinuates that this is all women live for and men have total reign over this. Please get with the times! "

This is apalling. The Battle of the Sexes is now an all out war. The absolute cynicism is very disheartening. As a single, 30 year old, never been married female, I am frightened for the future, MY future. I DO want to get married now, have children, and walk through life hand in hand with my best friend. Is "he" out there? Am I unrealistic? It may be.

Feel free to respond, both to the article and/or my comments.

JOURNAL: North Korea's Holiday Camp

Byeongjeom has failed to win me over even yet, so I have begun exploring other areas. My weekend mantra has become, "Gotta get out gotta get out gotta get out of here!" So I do. I am actually in pretty good financial shape; this I attribute to the fact that there is nothing to spend your money on here. This nice cash flow (though far from lucrative) has given me more travelling allowance.

During the last week of September, I had what you might call a miniature nervous breakdown. This tends to happen to even the most normal person when a) one has not slept for three weeks due to incessant noise, b) one's water and toilet have been mysteriously shut off for two weekends in a row and c) one is coming off powerful drugs (prescribed by a Western doctor) which have been messing with one's hormones for six weeks. I was frustrated, moody, anxious, bored, and deeply depressed at my situation. Culture shock? Possibly. Who knows...

I called a friend, and she suggested I needed to get out of town asap. Kathy, her boyfriend, Emma (who was also having a trying time), and I decided we were going to ALL "get out of Dodge" by taking the late train to Jeongdongjin. Jeongdongjin has the unusual distinction of having the "closest train station to the beach in the world." Guinness confirms this claim, and you can see in this picture how close the station actually is to the beach (photo taken from inside the train).

Because I was a "latecomer;" my seat was separated from my co-travellers, but we were in the same carriage. My seatmate was a very polite middle-aged woman, who courteously offered me bits of her food. I really appreciated the gesture, although the food belonged to the class of "interesting aroma." When a row of seats became empty, she moved so she could lay down. I gratefully spread out across the seats and fell asleep.

The rest of the ride was uneventful. At abour 5:30 a.m., we arrived in Jeongdonjin. Jeongdongjin is famous among Koreans for having a very intense sunrise. Taking the midnight train is considered a romatic date, and couples like to camp out on the beach or boardwalk before sunrise to await the dawn. The trains arrange their schedules accordingly so that passengers can watch the sun come up over the East Sea (Sea of Japan, for the politically incorrect); remember, the sun rises in the East!

We arrived an hour before sunrise, so we checked into a "love motel" and crashed for awhile. Every time I have stayed at one of these establishments, I have been without camera, but this time I was lucky. This motel had 1970s porno decor, complete with a round bed and strategically-placed mirrors...The requisite big box of tissue was on the bedstand, with cigarette tray close by for those post-coital moments. I didn't have the time or energy to check, but I bet ten to one there were condoms in the drawer.







We dropped off our things, and headed to the beach to watch this fabulous sunrise. We brought some kiwis, egg salad sandwiches, and other goodies for breakfast. We dandered along the crowded boardwalk, dodging canoodling couples huddling under inadequate blankets and trying desperately to look romantic. The atmosphere,however, was not particularly conducive to this sort of activity. It was neither quiet nor exactly peaceful; sleepy parents dejectedly chased down well-sugared toddlers, and "romantic" music (think circa 1950-1960) trickled out insistently from every bush and tree (where they hide the speakers). A SIDE NOTE: This is one thing that especially irks me about Korea; every activity must be accompanied by music. This includes mountain hikes, public parks, and even the parking lot under the Byeongjeom overpass (which inexplicably plays Chopin's "Nocturne in E minor").




As we went down the stairs towards the beach, we beheld yet another of Jeongdongjin's wonders - a random cruise ship on a mountain. Some entrepreneurial soul bought (or constructed) a cruise ship, and, though a stroke of genius or extremely bad taste (you decide) placed his "Love Boat" on top of the tallest headland! Next to this excrescence was a smaller boat with sails; I later found out from the guide book that the smaller ship is, in fact, a grammaphone museum!

We found a place on the beach to camp out, and plopped ourselves down with little ceremony. We munched on our sandwiches thoughtfully, and our token romantic couples tried their best to be, well, romantic. No one had brought a knife, so Emma and I added to the murmur of cooing voices with soft ptoooiiiis as we bit into each kiwi and spit out the skins.





Suddenly, an enourmous noise echoed through the beach. Everyone gazed in amazement as a speed boat came ripping though the oceanfront. The vehicle screeched around the bay, spewing water in the wake of ridiculously tight curves. The boat then turned towards the shore, and came roaring towards the beach! People nervously crept back a few feet. The boat clearly had no intention to stop. Within only five feet of shore, the captain cut the engine, then the boat bumped its way onto the sand. The man, unruffled, loudly began hawking rides. Incredibly, a family with two young boys took up his offer, and they all went squealing away as the lunatic captain spun his boat into increasingly tight and wet circles. Amazingly, yet another boat pulled in with the same sort of fanfare; clearly, this was a local tourist trap.

We never did see the sunrise; it was cloudy and overcast. We went back to the motel, and slept for about two hours.



Refreshed, we went to breakfast on the main drag. I noted with some amusement that most of the eating establishments possessed signs screaming "CAPPUCINO! COFFEE!" Not a bad idea for a place that capitalizes on sunrises! We continued on our tour, wandering aimlessly. We followed the signs to the "World's Largest Hourglass," but got hopelessly lost. As it turned out, the Hourglass was on top of the hill we kept on passing! We wandered down a country alley, wherupon we saw a poor Jindo dog caged up. He was so beautiful, but his eyes were dull and sad; they followed our movements, but the dog never lifted his head.

We then decided to head towards the Unification Park. This park was build to "commemorate" the North Korea Submarine Incident, October 1996. This was the last (acknowledged) skirmish between North and South Korea. Jeongdongjin is only a few kilometers from the DMZ coast, which makes it prime spying ground for submarines. The small submarine (I believe Russian-made)is meant to hold 6 people; the North Koreans crammed in 30 specially-trained spies. Their spy mission was effectively scuttled, however, when the warcraft got trapped by some unusual weather and scraped a nice hole in the bottom of the vessel.

Here the story itself gets slightly scuttled; what is certain is that the North Korean c.o. shot and killed 16-17 of his own men, then shot himself in the head. The incriminating paperwork was set alight inside the sub; you can still get a whiff of burned plastic in certain parts of the shaft. The computers are also melted. One report states that the bodies of the excecuted men were found on a nearby hillside; another report says the men were found inside the sub. The rest of the men fled into the neighboring hills. All of them were taken out by the South Korean military except for two; one man got away, and one man was captured. The captured man was very cooperative with his interrogators after they reportedly plied him with soju...There were also civilian and South Korean casualties in this incident. All of this info can be accessed on the Internet in various sources (links to come later).





The Unification Park is actually quite a clever piece of propoganda. The small spy submarine sits on a large waterfront property right next to....a huge decommissioned American battleship, given to the South Koreans by the US in the 1970s. This battleship, incredibly, is not in the water, but on land. From the seaside, it looks like the big bad Warship is squeezing out a small turd...Size does matter, after all. The jokes about "potency" and "size" apparently hit below the belt in these sorts of matters in certain Korean press releases...

The area is still under security; there are guard towers and soldiers at attention, surveying the rocks for any sign of trouble. The soldiers are in full fatigue and carry mean-looking weapons. There is also razor wire and "jacks" on the beach nearby. Even so, people were allowed to wander around both vessels at will. Korean tourists were even taking sneak snapshots of the guards.

At the entrance of the submarine, there is a rack with hard hats and a caution sign. We giggled at each other and took pictures, feeling a bit over-protected. Well, there was a good reason for the hats. The sub is built for senior midgets; I cracked my skull at least three times. Even Shane, who is short even for a Korean, had some difficulty navigating the tight space. There are no lights or placards; the exhibitors have left everything strictly as it was. A peculiar burnt plastic/burnt electrics smell premeated the room, as well as someting more elusive. I was very surprised to note that the melted computers and electronic equipment were in English! Hmmmm...




We ended our tour early, as I had to take the train back to Seoul. It was 6 hours each way; I was that desperate to get out of Byeongjeom. Refreshed, and deliciously tired, I slept all the way back, pausing only to eat my meager rations of roasted eggs. Roasted eggs are a popular Korean treat, however I think they would serve a better purpose as industrial rubber - very chewy and tasteless. "Great preparation for returning home," I mused sleepily.

PHOTOS: Er... Yeah...

Below are some of my funnier photo moments. I am beginning to collect them and this is the first batch...



Are those for minty fresh breath?



This "rent-a-cop" car was spotted on my own campus!



The Paradise Wet Come (Love Hotel)...self explanatory.



This is actually a charismatic Catholic Church, located on the top of a GS Mart (covenience store). God bless capitalism.



One of the creepier aspects of Korean culture is the the tendency on signs to show a smiling or insufferably cute cartoon of the poor animal done in for your culinary delight. This restaurant is in my neighborhood, and serves up "man's best friend" (Boh-shin-tang) as a soup for virility. This shop is right next to the police station.



I have posted this photo before, but it remains my favorite.

JOURNAL: Working man's Viagra

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.