Example of a haiku, as given by Jeff Teacher

I sit in my class

Outside it will soon be fall

I won't miss the heat

Chuseok is all around us

The kids are busy writing their lists for the Chuseok Bunny, and getting ready to go from house to house collecting teeth to stick under the pillow, while the parents stay home assembling the Chuseok pole in preparation for the Airing of Grievances.

In truth, I still don't know exactly what Chuseok entails. It is, essentially, the Korean Thanksgiving, and a time when most Koreans will return to the home of their parents or grandparents, pay homage to their ancestors, and eat a lot- including Songpyeon, a traditional Korean rice cake. Beyond that, though, it's all a big mystery.

It's just a couple of weeks away now, and the biggest indicator of an impending holiday is found, of course, in the supermarkets. There are a great number of gift baskets for sale, each one offering a selection from a given grocery aisle: fruit, cosmetics, spam.

Soon we'll start doing Chuseok activities with the students, and I'm curious to discover the local equivalent of Santa napkin rings or Turkey placemats. Gift baskets aside, what I've seen of pre-Chuseok Korea makes it seem a lot more low-key than Christmas or even Thanksgiving, but it may also simply be less commercial, though no less intense. I am given to understand that virtually everyone goes home for the week, and there are very few exceptions.

As for me, I'll be in Beijing. Assa!

Hills and Apartments

Every so often, I'll set out from the Jeffpad and meander through the streets of my neighbourhood. It's at these times that I am most aware of the fact that I am in a very different place.

Busan's main streets are very large, wide thoroughfares. It's rare that one can cross the street directly; most often pedestrians either take bridges over the road or tunnels underneath it. It's not uncommon to have two levels of road on the main strip, with a raised highway running more or less on top of a street. Usually I'll walk along one of these for a little bit, but I prefer to move off the main drags and meander through the side streets, which are fascinating. They're small, narrow, and curvy, frequently without sidewalks, and are almost invariably sloping up or down.

I'm reminded a little bit of the Flintstones travel parts, wherein the scenery loops as they drive along, because there seems to be a specific number of types of business establishments in the residential areas of Busan. These are as follows:

-the corner store: purveyors of Fanta, snack food, and the like, these can be quite tiny (the size of a walk-in closet) to relatively spacious (the size of a large bachelor apartment)

-the optician: apparently, there is a very high demand for glasses and glasses-related paraphernalia in Busan

-the bakery: these often have French names and serve Eurasian fused baked goods. Fresh bread (but not, sadly, baguettes) vie for space with red bean donuts, cakes, and buns.

-the pizza place: In addition to the not infrequent Dominos and Pizza Huts, most neighbourhoods have a local pizzeria or three as well. These are generally given names similar to ones which might be found in North America: Pizza Time, Mr. Pizza, and Royal Pizza are all within a short walk of my apartment

-the Korean restaurant: barbecue-, soup-, or bibimbap-oriented, Busan has many, many, many eateries. As I may have mentioned in previous posts, the cost of food in restaurants is quite cheap (a solid meal can be had for $3), while the supermarkets are relatively expensive.

On a given street, then, the order is often something like this:

variety store, barbecue restaurant, optician, barber, variety store, bibimbap restaurant, pizza place, bakery, barbecue restaurant, optician.

All of this, of course, is set against a backdrop of apartment buildings, which are themselves framed by the green mountains of Busan. It sounds scenic, and it in its own peculiar way I suppose it is... the city has a sort of old- modern feeling to it. Think of The Fifth Element. It looks like the City of the Future, but twenty or thirty years later. I'll need to put up some photos to do this description justice. For now you'll have to trust me.

Rejoice! and be cool

The heat has broken at long last.

Tonight I do not sit under the air conditioner while beads of sweat fill my eyes.

Went to the beach last weekend, and spent the day frolicking in the Sea of Japan.
Good times abounded. Every time I go to the beach, I am amazed anew by the sheer volume of people consorting on the sands and in the water. According to Wikipedia, as many as 100,000 people gather on the one-mile (1.6km) strip of beach on busy days, and I believe it. The umbrellas stretch off to infinity in either direction, and it is no small accomplishment to find valuable waterspace.

A follow-up to an earlier posting: the official site for the movie D-War (Korean title) may be visited here. Again, I heartily recommend it.

We've just started a book box at school, where in people can drop off books they've read, and pick up ones they haven't. I'm cautiously optimistic, but also desperate. I feel like (insert clever and humorous drug dependency-related reference here). I miss books. I quickly got through all those I brought with me, and while one of the bookstores here does have a reasonably comprehensive English-language section, I'd rather not spend money on books that I'll be leaving behind.

The book box also got me thinking about books on which I'm missing out back home. I've got the new Jasper Fforde on my list of to-reads, as well as Paul Shirley's memoir,and Joan Druett's Island of the Lost, among others, but I'm sure there are still many more that have slipped under my radar or will have done so by the time I once again in a land with English-language libraries. In order to keep track, and to hopefully assist anyone else looking for stuff to read, I've decided to keep a list on the side of books I want to read. Feel free to post suggestions on the blog or email them to me here. In the unlikely event that the Book Box proves successful beyond all imagining, I may well open up a second sidebar entitled "what I'm reading now" or somesuch, but this seems improbable at best, so don't hold your breath.

You'll note that the links on the sidebar all bring you to either a big Canadian or American e-retailer. This is simply for ease of information gathering. If you want to read any of these titles, I strongly suggest you go to your local neighbourhood bookstore and pick them up there. Or your library. Libraries rock. I strongly recommend the Toronto Public Library if you live in Toronto. I also strongly recommend Toronto itself.

Shameless Promotion

From my inbox:

"The new issue of Papertag is up, and looking delicious, but I'm hungry for more.


This is a call for your Food Channel styled, close up, soft lit photos of lunch, dessert, the bananas you have laying around, whatever. Accompany the photo with your best food fantasy. Explain that your lonely granola bar lunch is due to your totally unreasonable supervisor's constant demands on your time. Maybe you are obsessively eating Doritos ever since your girlfriend left you. I want photos of the carnage, and words that convey your pain.

Share how the smell of chocolate chip cookies reminds you of your mom. Send in photos of your famous no-bake brownies in progress, with the recipe attached. Explain why local food matters (along with images of soil-dusted carrots). Tell us how a giant bowl of hot buttered popcorn is a metaphor for the war-industrial complex.

We're not judging -- we want it all.

Send your food related creations, memories, instructions, tangents, inspirations and anything in between to papertag @ g mail dot com.

[themes are merely suggestions for fun and inspiration. send whatever floats your creative boat.]

Looking forward to your mouth watering submissions,

Erin http://papertag.ca"

Movie Recommendation

In the roughly ten weeks I've been in South Korea, I'd seen a couple of movies (Die Hard and Transformers) and hadn't felt the need to comment on either of them. This past week, though, I was privy to a cinematic phenomenon the likes of which I had never before witnessed, and in all probability never again will.

I'm speaking of the movie D-War, which opens in North America in September. In theory, this is a movie based on an old Korean legend involving giants snakes and dragons. In practice this largely holds true, but I would be remiss in describing it as such and leaving it at that. Suffice it to say that if you've ever wondered how supernatural pterodactyls would fare against military attack helicopters, this is the movie for you.

Imagine, if you will, a film that combines elements of Lord of the Rings, Transformers, Godzilla and The Terminator, with special effects that, at their best, rival those in any of the aforementioned movies. To this technical wizardry, add a screenplay that would be hard-pressed to earn a passing grade in an applied Grade 10 English class, and actors who, after their performances in this movie, will be lucky to find themselves called upon to play the role of "Bystander #3" in the next Vin Diesel film.

D-War is almost certainly the worst movie I have ever paid money to see, but fortunately its awfulness is such that it becomes one of the lucky few to fall squarely and inarguably into the hallowed "so bad it's good" hall of fame.

Step aside, Conan. You've got company.

August

is upon us, with everything that entails. Or doesn't entail, one could argue. Because my school year here doesn't follow the Canadian calendar, I'm working most of the month. I've been off this past week, though, and doing the tourist thing to a small degree.

In no particular order, a few random thoughts:

-Beaches are better when you have a frisbee.

-Korean movie theatres have assigned seating. This is useful if you get there early (you can pick your own seats and then show up again 5 minutes before the movie starts), but less useful if you show up late (you're stuck with whatever's left). Then again, people who show up late to movies are generally stuck with the leftovers anyway.

-The odds of being visited by Jehovah's Witnesses are considerably higher in Busan than in Toronto.

-If you choose to order at random from a menu by picking something you can read without having any idea what it is, it's probably soup.

-No matter how hot and sweaty you think you'll be when you go outside, you'll be hotter and sweatier.

-The electronics stores here sell crazy-tiny cellphones, super-advanced computers, nifty little gadgets of all shapes and sizes... and portable cassette players.

-Children like to practice their English when they see white people. Some days this is cute. Some days this is not. The variable cuteness has less to do with the children than the temperature.

-Speaking of cellphones, I'm (hopefully) getting one this weekend. I've never had a cellphone before, but I think this proves I am finally a Person of Consequence.

-Korean public baths are quite relaxing. Cheap, too! For about C$4 one can relax in a selection of hot,warm, cool and cold baths for as long as one likes. An excellent way to spend an hour after walking around a mountain.

The Poll is Closed...

... and the results have been tabulated.

On the North Korea Question, the people have spoken as follows:

Yes: 25%
Don't Know: 33%
No: 25%
Do What You Want: 17%

All in all, not the most conclusive of surveys, but that may be fitting. I probably won't be going to North Korea any time soon, but I'm not entirely ruling it out, either.

I've switched to a three-column blog; my hope is that this template will be the one that lasts for a while, but we'll see. The additional column should make for a less cluttered look, so that benefits everybody. Let me know what you think.

Oh, and I went to Japan last week. We left on Wednesday, came back on Thursday. From the little I saw of it, Fukuoka's a nice town, but not particularly exciting. It's cleaner than Busan, which is good, but there are fewer Korean restaurants, the value of which really corresponds to your opinion of Korean food.

Although I had a good 48 hours, I was surprised at the relief I felt upon returning to Korea, where even the modicum of Korean I speak far surpasses the amount of my Japanese. It's still a pretty pathetic amount, though. If anybody knows a KSL teacher, please give them my contact info.

2 Quick Notes

I've taken down the slideshow that was up for a little while on the right-hand side. Those of you who wish to view it may do so at our sister site.

There are only a few hours left to vote on the North Korea question, if you haven't already done so. Thanks to those who did vote, and especially those who explained the reasons behind their selection. I haven't completely made up my mind, but I'm leaning strongly in one direction.

mud-luscious and puddle wonderful, and a temple too

Thanks to e.e. cummings for part A of the title. Sadly, though, Mud Festival didn't quite live up to its billing. I had been led to expect a sea of mud stretching as far as the eye could see, with myriad opportunities to frolic and bathe. Instead, we found a nice enough beachtown, two little sections of which had been converted into mud-slides and mudwading pools, around of each of which was a line of people. Boryeong, the town in question, has a rather nice sand beach, but the region is well-known for the ostensible curative properties of the local mud, hence the impetus for the festival, and also my mild surprise at the relative lack of mud. The distribution of free bars of mud soap was a nice touch, though.

Upon rereading the above, I realize that you should be forgiven for inferring there was almost no mud at all, but that wasn't exactly the case. The mud was there, but only in such quantities that an effort had to be made in order to be muddy- the advertising for the festival gives the impression that great effort is needed in order to stay clean, and this is most definitely not true. Still, a valuable lesson was learned about forming expectations based on advertising, so not all is lost.

Beyond the mud was an excuse for thousands of people, waeguk-in and Koreans alike, to pass a weekend on a beach. As such, it was successful, though I was somewhat discomfited to find myself in what could, in many regards, have passed for a frosh week celebration at Wasaga or the like. I was also saddened that it took me most of the weekend to find a store selling frisbees- these generators of awesomeness do not have nearly the same ubiquity in Korea as they do back home. I'm further amused by the fact that I've just paired a comment on the surfeit of North Americans with one on the scarcity of North American beach toys, but so be it.


Today being Constitution Day, our pedagogical efforts were unneeded, so a colleague and I decided to explore Beomeosa, acclaimed by Wikipedia as "one of the country's leading urban temples."

After a short subway ride and an even shorter cab ride, we found ourselves high up a mountain and in a completely different world. One of the characteristics of Busan of which I'm less fond is the lack of green space, but the temple is essentially in the middle of the forest, and absolutely stunning to boot. It was originally constructed in the 7th Century, but has been destroyed and rebuilt a number of times since then.

The term temple is a bit of a misnomer, at least insofar as I have generally understood the term. Like the other Buddhist temples I've seen, Beomeosa isn't one single building, but is instead a collection of shrines, pagodas, statuary, and the like. For this reason, it makes an excellent place to wander around in slack-jawed awe, always a good state to be in, especially in a place of religion. It also makes one (meaning me) more conscious of the connection between people and the rest of nature. As impressive as, say, Notre-Dame de Paris is, when one enters into it one is definitely stepping into a human creation and leaving the rest behind. Beomeosa, while still obviously and inarguably a construct of humanity, is a part of its natural surroundings in a completely different way. The trees, the water, and the bamboo all form (to these Western eyes, at least) a part of the experience. That's a good thing.

Thoughts on a Train

What follows was, as will soon be obvious, first written on the overnight train from Seoul to Busan. Minor edits have been made for coherence and stylistic preference, but the essence, I would say, remains the same. For example, the conclusion does not bear nearly as much relation to the introduction as I would have liked, but we tamper with these things at our own risk.

At least since Einstein, if not long before him, we have known that time is relative. The physicists, no doubt, have all sorts of elegant mathematical proofs for this, but for me it is never clearer than when I am on a train. Not only does time stretch and collapse in ways beyond my understanding and descriptive capabilites, but it has an almost mystical ability to bridge together the various epochs of my quasi-adult life.

As I write these words I am returning to Busan, shortly after midnight- 12 minutes into a new Monday. That's the literal assessment of my situation. In some indescribably intangible way, however, I am not only in Korea, circa 2007. I am in 19 years old, taking the train to Ste-Foy, Qc, for a summer of Katimavikking. I am 23, on the night train from Paris to Amsterdam. I am staring out the window as the landscapes of Northern Spain, New Brunswick, and Southern Mexico all roll by.

Travel is, almost by definition, transitional, but I have found that trains hold a particular resonance with me. This may be attributed at least in part to the wanderlust stirred in me from a young age with every walk through Toronto's glorious Union Station and the inevitable backpack-clad youths on their way, no doubt, to places exotic.

It may also owe something to my youthful inhalation of the Canadian mythos of the Railroad As Nation-Builder And Uniter of Oceans. This inculcation of romance should not be underestimated, although it should of course be tempered with at least a cursory awareness of the difficulties and injustices involved in the construction of said railroad.

The most pragmatic explanation for my enduring state of train love is that if I am on a train I have escaped the mundane for at least the duration of the ride. I am either happily ensconced in anticipatory thoughts or enveloped in contemplation of sights freshly seen and deeds freshly done. I fall, it would seem, into un état ferroviaire- that particular combination of feeling and reflection endemic to travel by railroad. At any rate, the iron tracks bring me into a state of quiet Zen- until I am awakened in my couchette by the smell of smoke, and our train comes to a stop in the tranquil countryside somewhere outside Toulouse. But that's another story.

Schadenfreude (n)

"malicious joy in the misfortunes of others," 1922, from Ger., lit. "damage-joy," from schaden "damage, harm, injury" (see scathe) + freude, from O.H.G. frewida "joy," from fro "happy," lit. "hopping for joy," from P.Gmc. *frawa- (see frolic).

See also: Black, Conrad.

Tee-hee.

Ask A Waeguk, Vol.4

Haleigh from Nova Scotia writes: "How much English do your students already know when you (in the general, "someone who goes to teach English in Korea" sense) begin teaching them? And since you don't speak Korean, what tools do you use to make yourself understood, if the comprehension level is not already fairly high?"

The Waeguk Responds

It's interesting that you should ask, Haleigh. I'd been planning for some time to do a blog entry on my fledgling teaching career, and your question has provided the necessary incentive. Khansamneeda.

I teach a number of different age groups, and students of all levels of English-language ability. The teaching ranges from the relatively simple ("Some dinosaurs walk. Some dinosaurs run.") to the more advanced- one of my classes is reading The Wizard of Oz. Regardless of their age or ability, though, all of my students speak a level of English that is light-years ahead of my Korean. Even the kindergarten students understand the essentials needed for their classes:

-stand up

-sit down

-tidy up

-repeat after me

-cut here, then color*

And so on. I can also engage my kinders in conversation, as long as we stick to subjects they've studied (farm animals, feelings, health issues- sore throat, runny nose, et al- and dinosaurs). For those times when I'm in need of vocabulary they don't already know, a combination of mime and whiteboard sketching works wonders.

For the older students, of course, we tend to use more specialized vocabulary (I spent a class on the "present continuous" tense today, for example), but generally speaking they already have a relatively large English word-base, so I can work my way around using synonyms and the like. Failing that, there's always mime and whiteboard sketching. Usually, though, I just need to repeat myself more slowly, or rephrase myself. If I can make myself understood to one student, he or she can translate for the rest. That's not necessary very often, however, as the nature of the lessons is such that they're generally at a level the students can understand.

I teach at a private language academy, of which there are many (hundreds, I'd guess) in Busan alone. This means that my students (with the exception of the kinders) come after their regular school has concluded. Many students also go to an additional math, science or other school. For those whose parents can afford the additional education, it seems to be seen as something of a necessity.

As with any job, teaching has its ups and downs, though I suspect these may be more pronounced than in some careers. There are days when I walk out of class glowing with the satisfaction of a well-taught lesson, pleased by how well the students responded to my pedagogical brilliance, and there are days when I stagger out of class relieved the students haven't received a first-hand definition of defenestration.

The courses are very syllabus-oriented, meaning that I generally know which page of the textbook I'm teaching on any given day. This is useful in that relieves me of much of the burden of lesson-planning, but on the other hand it often forces me to figure out how to fill 40 minutes on something that I would otherwise try to teach in ten. Games are useful - a dull question and answer period is livened substantially if the students are allowed to play tic-tac-toe, wherein a correct answer gives them the chance to mark their square.

I'm able to keep the students relatively enthusiastic in most of my classes, but for those where I struggle (one class is notorious throughout the school for their lack of interest and manners) I try to remind myself not to take it personally. I taught the devil-class today, though, and it went fairly well, so maybe things are improving on that front. Keep your fingers crossed.

On a different note, I'm off to Mud Festival this weekend...Expect a dispatch early next week.

*My school teaches American English, or at least the spelling thereof. Thus, we talk about our favorite colors, and not our favourite colours.

Ask A Waeguk, Vol. 3

Since watching a soccer game in which the North Korean team was misidentified with the South Korean flag, Monti from Oakville wonders if South Koreans are offended if called North Koreans, and vice versa.

The Waeguk Responds

Up to now, Monti, I have not met a North Korean, nor have I made the mistake of mixing up North and South, so what I can offer you is only idle speculation.

At school (the site of the majority of my conversational interactions with bona fide citizens of the Republic of Korea), the topic of politics rarely comes up, and North Korea is mentioned even less frequently.

With very, very few exceptions, North Koreans stay in North Korea. It is not a country with anything even close to open borders. By and large, South Koreans are not allowed into the North, and citizens of other countries who wish to do so must go through China, such is the nature of the DMZ, the "world's most heavily fortified border," as countless websites and guidebooks are quick to tell us, breathlessly noting the 2 million soldiers who line its sides.

Given this, and the fact that the Korean peninsula was only one country until the end of the Second World War, one would think that the "rogue state" to the north would be frequent watercooler fare. From what I've seen, however, it isn't. It may be that the situation, although scary, has remained the same for long enough that there really isn't much to talk about on a day-by-day basis. It may be that it's not a topic one would choose to broach with colleagues as part of casual office chatter, particularly if those colleagues are Westerners and the topic is one with considerable emotional weight.

In terms of your question, Monti, my best guess is that South Koreans would be largely bemused if someone were to mix up the North and South, especially if that someone happened to be living in South Korea. Although they share four thousand years of heritage, the countries' paths since 1945 have been so radically different that to confuse the two would be akin to being unable to distinguish between the USA and the USSR, circa 1980.

Maybe I'll try flipping the names this week, just to test my hypothesis. But probably not.

Bright and shiny toy, shady and troublesome question

The more perspicacious and faithful of my readers may have already noticed the poll button to the right-hand side of the page. While this does, first and foremost, give you another way to focus your attention on me, it also gives me a way of getting feedback on my ponderables.

Currently, as the initial poll would suggest, the topic of North Korea is on my mind. It's a country I'm curious about for a number of reasons, from the apparent physical beauty of the landscape to the complete and utter power held by Kim Jong-Il. From everything I've heard and read, his is a dictatorship which wields power so thoroughly there's no chance to even contemplate any sort of dissent, let alone act on it. Death camps, repression, economic devastation and famine...

If I visit North Korea, my tourist dollars are, either implicitly or explicitly, going to finance and therefore support the regime. This is not a good thing. On the other hand, if tourism can encourage more dialogue with the rest of the world, it may in some tiny, minuscule way lead to a slight loosening of the fist, which can't be a bad thing.

Of course, by posting this entry I may find myself banned from entering it even if I do choose to do so.

Anyway, all you poli-sci, international studies, or generally opinionated people, let me know what you think.

Ask A Waeguk, Vol. 2.3

(N.B. This post has been edited after publishing: the three questions have been separated into separate posts for completely unnecessary reasons.)

In question 3, Adam notes that "according to rumour, South Koreans eat dog. According to [this] blog, puppies are available for sale on the sidewalks of Pusan," and he wonders if there is a connection.

The Waeguk Responds

Being of a not incurious mind myself, I endeavoured to do further research on the matter at hand, and consulted with one of my non-waeguk coworkers.

It is true, I learned, that dog is still eaten in Korea, but largely by the older generation. This seems to be predominantly a matter of changing tastes, but economist and sociologists would be better positioned than I to speculate at great length on the subject.

The puppies, then, are being sold not for food but as pets. This makes sense, really, because while it is relatively easy to sell live lobster or fish as food, a puppy, I would think, is quite another question. I would venture to guess that most dog meat sold comes from mature animals, as it wouldn't be worth the time or money for city dwellers to buy a pup and then spend the time and money waiting for it to grow to a size worth eating.

Interested in recipes for dog? Please click here. I haven't tried any of them myself as yet, and can't vouch for their quality, but I expect a full report from anyone who does try them out. I've heard standard poodle is particularly delicious.

Ask A Waeguk, Vol. 2.2

In Adam's second question, he wonders how one celebrates Canada Day in South Korea.

The Waeguk Responds

Disappointingly, Canada Day is not recognized by the government of Korea as a public holiday, which makes me wonder why I should pay taxes in either country. Beyond that, though, there are several options available to those who are interested in paying their respects to their (possibly former) Home and (arguably) Native Land.

The well-known bar Starface, in the Haeundae neighbourhood in Busan, had an all-you-can-drink night for KRW 15,000 (roughly Can $17.00). Although I did not attend, I have friends who did, and they have assured me that it more than satisfied their celebratory urges.

As for myself, I was feeling rather under the weather Saturday evening and all day Sunday, so I chose to take a more contemplative route. I pondered the events of July 1, 1916 (the opening day of the Battle of the Somme, as all history buffs should have noted), and attempted to count the number of countries in which I have found myself on the first of July. I can think of three at least (Canada, Costa Rica, and France-twice), but I wouldn't be surprised to learn I have been in the UK on at least one occasion as well.

You also wondered about the options available should one find oneself in North Korea, Adam, and to this I can only say: when I find out I'll let you know.

Ask A Waeguk, Vol. 2.1

Adam from Ottawa has written to the Waeguk with several questions. The Waeguk will tackle them one by one, so let's get started. Adam's first question:
If these questions are being directed to a "Waeguk", what's the term for the people sending them?

The Waeguk Responds:

Your question may actually have more depth than you intended, Adam, touching as it does a chord which rings within most relatively homogeneous societies. "Waeguk" in Korea, "Gringo" in Mexico, "Mzungu" in Kenya... These are all terms used to differentiate between the historical inhabitants of a country or region and those who are new to it, and most typically passing through.

Of the three terms I've mentioned above, gringo is probably the best-known. In theory, it refers to citizens of the United States of America who are in Mexico, but in practice it is used to refer to just about any person who does not fit into the user's idea of what a Mexican should be. Gringos, therefore, are usually white people who do not speak Spanish as their native language.

In the three countries under discussion, skin colour is likely the easiest and fastest way of determining whose ethnic background differs from that of the majority. This doesn't mean to say that you can't be of a traditionally Korean appearance and and not qualify as a waeguk, but it does mean that someone on the subway would be much less likely to make that judgment of you before you open your mouth.

As best I can tell, Waeguk is not a pejorative. Neither, and again this is to the best of my ability to say, is Mzungu. Gringo, in part because of the long and interesting relationship between Mexico and the U.S. may be slightly harder to evaluate, but suffice it to say that (in my experience, al menos) although it may not always be a perfectly friendly term, it's not necessarily one used to indicate complete and utter disdain for its subject.

This rather lengthy preamble may seem slightly superfluous to the question at hand, but it's necessary, given the (inadvertent, perhaps) complexity of the topic.

If you were here in Korea asking me the question, Adam, you would be a waeguk also- though not, it should be said, the Waeguk, as I reserve the title for myself. But when you ask me from Ottawa, you are still a foreigner, but a foreigner in her own land lacks the same need for labelling, methinks.

Put it this way: under most circumstances, someone who's 6'8" is considered very, very tall. On a professional basketball team, however, he no longer seems exceptional, and thus is not noticed solely because of his height.

I'm tempted to dredge up some "self-referential paradox" lingo from my undergrad, but for our purposes I think we will simply refer to our correspondents as "Friends of the Waeguk." FOTW, should there ever be a need for an acronym. So that's question 1 taken care of, hopefully to your satisfaction.

Seoul Train

Firstly, let me apologize for the obviousness of the titular pun. Unsubtle or not however, it is appropriate, given that I paid a visit to Korea's capital city over the weekend.

The city that jumps to mind most quickly, interestingly, is Athens. Seoul is much bigger than Athens, obviously, and has the whole Modern Asian Metropolis (MAM) thing going on, but what the two of them do have in common is the pieces of antiquity scattered in a seemingly random pattern throughout the city. Seoul has five (five!) palaces and various other shrines, pagodas, and other bits of history around every other corner.

There's something almost intoxicating about being let loose in a large and unfamiliar city. Every step teases with the promises of wonders as yet unseen. There's a rush of realizing you're going through what is, for you, uncharted territory. Even the mundane holds a special allure. You're not just riding the subway, you're riding the subway in Seoul. Awesome. I love new places. When that new place happens to be the second-largest city in the world? Double-awesome.

I don't think I'd quite realized it until arriving there, but Seoul has long held a special place in my...not heart, as such, but at least my consciousness. My memory of global events from the 1980s is sketchy at best. The first News item I remember is the Challenger explosion in '85. Sitting in the waiting room table at the dentist's office was a magazine (Time, I'd guess, but I really have no idea) with the astronauts on the cover. So that's the first thing I remember from outside my immediate sphere of reference. I also remember, albeit vaguely, the ascension of G.H. Bush to the U.S. Throne, and the 1988 Olympics. The Winter Games in Calgary were a big deal, obviously, taking as place as they did just to the west of Canada, but it's the Summer Games that stick out. You can attribute this to the fact I was eight months older by then (7 and a half years old), but I think it has more to do with the fact that a sprinter by the name of Ben Johnson happened to be stripped of his gold medal for steroid use. Remember that?

It's not to say that I only remember the Seoul Games because of our man on the track, but I think that what Johnson did do was give me a reference point for a city that would likely not have featured very prominently in my mind at all.

I just hope he got to see some of the sights.

Starts with a "K," ends with an "a"

Given my travels so far this year, it seems inevitable that I feel compelled to give my thoughts on a comparison of Kenya and Korea.

The question I find myself asking, however, concerns the best way to do this. The two most obvious option would be a humorous point-by-point look at the two countries in the "Kenya has cheetahs, Korea has chopsticks" vein. While not without merits, this approach runs the risk or reducing everything to its lowest comedic denominator, not something I particularly want to do with this topic especially.

So I think what I'm going to do is just do a kind of free-flowing ramble on the subject at hand and see what bubbles to the surface.

In one of my kindergarten classes the other day, I started humming "In the Jungle" as the students worked on their frog pictures. I was only a few bars in before some of the kids started singing along. Apparently it's one of the songs they've learned. It's also one of the songs I taught my Grade 5s in Kenya. The interesting thing, however, is that my middle-class students in Korea are more likely to have seen a real lion than my Kenyan students, despite the latter living a few hours away from one of the most famous wilderness preserves in Africa. Money, of course, is the eternal variable. The Koreans (and the Canadians, and the Europeans, etc.) can afford to go to the zoo, while the Kenyans at my school were struggling to get enough to eat.

This isn't meant as a "pity the poor Africans" post, nor a "damn those with money" one. If anything, it's more a reflection on the ridiculousness of modern life. The very fact that I can go from continent to continent so easily underlines how truly small our world is. Just because I can, however, doesn't mean I should. The environmental implications of air travel alone are staggering, to say nothing of the potential cultural ramifications of the linguistic imperial propaganda I carry with me. Of course, if I were truly concerned about either of these, I'd still be in Canada. And I'm not. But still.

I'm digressing now, so let's get back to the original Korea/Kenya question. Both make me think, assess myself and my place in the world, but for different reasons. Both make me laugh, and sigh, and leave me utterly exhausted at the end of the day.

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And so it is. More later.