stuck in incheon airport

Korea doesn't seem to want to let us go.
Maybe a haiku will prove convincing:

Seoul, how you've aged us
Hardened our hearts; "teacher voice"
Give us our youth back!

Three more hours left of our five hour delay.
I'm going to go look at as many Korean people as possible before I go.
Take them all in, you know; they don't come like this where we're from.

AMERICA! I can almost taste you. You taste like Sharp Cheddar and Tapas.

the nightmare is over, folks.

we're done!

goodbye SATs, hello funemployment.

leaving seoul in 2 days for japan (2 weeks) and then permanent summer vacation. Never overestimate a harvard graduate.

"Korea is Not So Bad!" Food Addendum

Nami has entrusted me with describing the delicious variety of snacks to be found in Korea. It's hard to know where to begin when this summer has been filled with so many gastronomic adventures. However, I'll start by saying that Koreans have an even sweeter tooth than I do.

A) Shaved Ice Sundaes. Also known as Patbingsu (a word I frequently mispronounce), Korea's shaved iced sundae is my biggest addiction. It's essentially a sundae where most of the icecream has been replaced by ice. If you're thinking of Italian ice, stop. Patbingsu is so different. They pour some sort of milk over the ice (sounds gross but it's not), then they add up to 5 different fresh fruit toppings - kiwi, strawberry, mango, banana, whatever, and top everything off with a scoop of ice cream or frozen yogurt. The most important ingredient, however, is the red bean. Red bean is a magical legume that replaces the many tablespoons of sugar and butter American desserts are so dependent on (I'm assuming the beans are healthy. please don't tell me if i'm wrong). Ok, so when you get your patbingsu, the first thing you do is mix everything together into a kind of icy porridge. It actually starts to look really gross but it's what you have to do to maximize the tastiness of each bite. Also I speak from experience when I say that you should never try to eat one by yourself. Your stomach will explode and you will die. Happened to a friend of a friend.

B) Dunkin' Donuts. I'm not kidding. The Dunks are different here. They have about twice the variety of donuts (melon, almond shavings, heart-shaped) and coolata flavors (greenteabanana). Click around on the website to see what I mean. It's fun. However, I specifically want to talk about one oven-fresh innovation Korean Dunks has going for it. It's called the "Chewisty" (a word I actually can only say with a korean accent "Cheweesty") and it harnesses the glutinous power of mochi to make the bread extra chewy. Nami and I discovered these in the Jeju airport on Sunday and we've averaged about 1.5 a day ever since. They come in fun shapes and flavors and bring light to our lives during an otherwise tedious day of SAT torture .

C) Korean Tea. There's this coffee machine at our academy where for 200 won (20 cents?) I can get a hot little cup of this korean milk tea. A student introduced me to it warning "oh, you're going to love this!" or something along those lines. He was pretty much right and my physics class pretty much turned into him watching me drink my weight in this tea. I actually have no idea what the tea is made of (I can't read the label on the button I push) but it's kind of grainy and sweet. Anyway, that's some good, unknown tea.

D) BBang. How do i even begin to recount my summer love affair with this food? I don't even like croissants or muffins that much but bbang is different. It comes in all shapes, sizes, and colors. Some are painted in sugar glaze, others sprinkled with spongy bread crumbs; some are shaped like bear claws, others like balls or cubes; some are chewy like chewisty, others are filled with cream or red bean. It's like Dr. Seuss invented it. That whole wheat, 30-grain, 200% DV dietary fiber stuff doesn't exist here. Only bbang. Customs is going to tear open my bag to find me smuggling a whole bakery of it into the US.

That's only the tip of the sugar cube. Korea also boasts elaborate waffle sundaes, chocolate filled cookies shaped like imaginary creatures (Nami and I are fans of the mushroom people ones), large freezers in every covenience store selling dozens of ice cream novelties, and a delicious variety of street desserts. I'll elaborate more if I get a chance but suffice it to say that if they could turn the Cheonggyecheon stream into chocolate syrup, Korea would be Willy Wonka's candy room made reality.

Korea's Not So Bad!

So, Jen's posted a photo album of the first half (or third) of our adventures on facebook; it's called, "nami hates korea." Appropriately titled; touche, Jennifer, touche. Take a look if you please.

Okay I get it - I'm a debbie downer. I suck, I complain, I'm a brat; I know these things. But, can you really blame me? Korea's been rough; teaching has been tiresome. Wah wah wah.

However, there've been some good times. Since our last post, we've gone to a Korean baseball game (so enthusiastic!), visited Nami Island (I know!), attended a Korean + Western rock festival, seen a weird nonverbal martial arts show, gone to Haeundae Beach (where hundreds frolic in the waters fully clothed except for...me), eaten super fresh sushi (we picked our fish ourselves!), seen some old shiz (temples, tombs), traveled to Jeju island (waterfalls everywhere!), and befriended our cab drivers, students, and hairdressers.

Now, as we're entering our last week on this godforsaken peninsula, I've realized that I should share some of these good, or even great, things about Korea, Seoul, this summer, our (mis)adventures, etc. So, here goes. Jen and I'll keep adding to this list, so check back!

1. Public transportation. The transit system here is a-ma-zing. Subways are clean, fast, and play a nice, little melody whenever we are approaching a stop at which we can make a transfer to another line. And the melody, we think, sounds like the beginning of MGMT's Kids. So, there. Where subways don't go, buses do. The bus system is vast and unlike other cities, fast and reliable. Being a non-driver, I know my public transportation systems. DC - clean but limited; NY - extensive but dirty with frequent breakdowns; Boston - fails on all accounts; SF - please, you call that a public transportation system? Being from NY, having lived in DC, going to school in Cambridge, and moving to SF, I am an unbiased critic. In addition, the KTX trains race across the peninsula and the taxis are cheap! Airport limousine buses connect Seoul's two airports to all the bustling and hidden nooks and crannies of Seoul. We just took our first and second rides in them this past weekend. It was freaking awesome; we could only wish it was that easy to get home from Logan, JFK, or LaGuardia.
   
2. Sustainability. Sustainability and "going green" are different here in Seoul. It's less conscious, less self-laudatory, and more ingrained within existing structures and mindsets. It's not about reducing greenhouse gases, stopping climate change, saving energy. It's about wasting less (food, energy, water, money). The practical side of sustainability really shines through -- for example, hot water for the washroom is controlled separately, by the user: you turn it on when you shower and turn it off afterwards; this way, hot water isn't running through the pipes 24/7. Most lights -- in public and private places --, revolving doors, and escalator are motion-sensored. The boiler rooms double as drying rooms. All appliances, including hand dryers in public restrooms, are unplugged when not in use. Utility bills are not included in the rent, but paid for separately by each tenant, directly to the utility company. And the garbage and recycling, oh my god. In order to dispose of "real garbage", you have to purchase special bags; these bags are small and specific to your neighborhood/district. They're not inexpensive, small, and sort of a hassle to get, so you end up trying to throw away less garbage. Recycling is free and you have to separate everything into Plastic, PET Bottles, Paper, Cardboard, Glass, Metal, and Compost. Compost is thrown away in a different area from the recycling and it's really gross (Jen does it), so you end up trying to waste less food. This is all mandatory, written into the city or national law: Genius.
3. Cut-outs. Koreans seem to love posing with those posters with the faces cut out of them...or they think foreigners do. In any case, we love them. Jen and I see them everywhere and we CAN'T RESIST posing with them!
   
   
4. Food. Oh lord in heaven, the food is amazing. Now, at home, I don't eat meat; here, I do. Now, at home, Jen does not eat pork; here, she does. The meat is so good here. We never want to eat steak or hamburgers again. So many kinds of meat prepared in so many different ways - chicken, beef, pork -- it makes me want to curse the ground in which vegetables grow and roar, ME CARNIVORE ME EAT MEAT. Korean food is so flavorful and uses so many different flavors at once, Jen and I don't know how we're going to go back to American style Salt + sometimes Sour + Butter. It's a party in my mouth, folks, and y'all are invited. I'll leave Ice Cream/Shaved Ice, Bbang, Korean Tea, and Donuts to Jen; I know they hold a warm spot in her heart.
5. Public drinking. Drinking is allowed anywhere and everywhere! Shops sell beer in huge plastic bottles that you can just carry around and swig out of and you walk to and fro. We love it. Koreans don't take advantage of this rule, as foreigners do when they visit (in touristy areas, Westerners are drunk off their asses, splashing booze everywhere, breaking bottles, littering), but it creates a nice, relaxing atmosphere in which to enjoy one's beverage.
   
6. Free Wifi. Never again will I be unable to live-blog; nothing can stop me from tweeting my heart out here. There is free wi-fi EVERYWHERE. Seoul is currently the most interconnected city in the world, in terms of hi-speed internet access, and I know it. My iPhone picks up Wi-fi everywhere. It's quite lovely, given that I had to leave my precious 3g network behind.
7. Public Exercise Areas. In parks, along waterways, or in the most random places, there are these public exercise machines. They demonstrate Seoul's commitment to delivering accessible and super fun pathways to health and out of obesity (not that anyone here is close to fat. The fattest people here are the foreigners, and boy do they roll)!
8. Fresh fresh seafood. We pick the fish, they kill the fish, we eat the fish. SO GOOD. Below: Before and After.
   

P.S. I just wrote this entire post shirtless. It is really freaking hot in Korea.

Getting high with bbang

The theme of this blog post is "fun." It's a rare word on Seoulmateys but it does, in fact, exist in our lives. I'll use it in a sentence: "When not confronting grumpy students or manipulative bosses, Nami and I have fun."

For example, Nami and I, tired of the city, felt like going on a hike. After packing some bbang and water, we hopped on the subway and rode for about 45 mins to northern Seoul. We then walked for 30 more minutes through an urban neighborhood until suddenly we reached the foot of Bukhansan mountain. Yeah, not many cities can boast having mountains easily accessible by subway/city street.

It began as a pleasant jaunt. We found some chairs strapped to trees and decided to sit in them while we enjoyed our first half of rations. Why were there chairs and why is bbang so good?


Twenty minutes later, we came to an odd clearing where old men were lifting weights. This was pretty deep into the forest but whatever, we just accepted that this was like korea's version of muscle beach. Unsure of how to continue on the trail, we asked one of the Arnolds to help us. He pointed us to a really narrow, very vertical, and sort of wet path and told us that was the shortest way up but we might not make it to the top. About 30 seconds into following his suggestion, we started to believe that we weren't on a trial at all but a very steep, very slippery, and very buggy stream. Our theory was verified by the rope fence we had to cross to get to the main path. Sidenote: we did not get any sort of poison plant rash nor did we crush the eggs of any fragile avian species.

A group of older hikers spotted us stumble from the protected area onto the path. Probably thinking we were idiots, they asked us where we were going. Specifically, we had no idea, but vaguely, we wanted to go higher. They pointed us in the right direction. We ran into a lot more hikers on this new "official" trail. Average age was probably 50. Everyone wore proper hiking attire and carried those sticks that make you look experienced. All people we talked to seemed fascinated by our lack of clear direction and proper footwear (our sneakers didn't compare to their hiking boots). However, not even their doubts could keep our eyes off the summit even if we didn't really know where it was.

Nami and I took some fun photos. Seoul's smog is so....um...beautiful.


I'll be honest, we almost didn't reach our goal. The path got legitimately treacherous. The last 50 yards or so were almost completely vertical, completely jagged rock face. Nami drew other hikers' attention to herself by whimpering and cowering in the middle of the path. A mother and her young daughter were patient enough to guide Nami up the incline. After some intense sweating, body-hoisting, and Nami-encouraging, we made it to the top. To celebrate, we finished off our other piece of delectable bbang.

Our legs felt pretty wobbly coming down the mountain. We weren't expecting such a bad ass hike but we showed the old men who doubted us. Yessiree.

nami v. andrew, a TOEFL tale

All hell broke loose and shit got real today at Academy.

Battle raged between Nami & Andrew, one of my TOEFL students.
Many doors were slammed many times, tears were shed, profanity (in Korean and English) spewed, voices raised, and threats given and received.

See post on youremakingmeangry.blogspot.com for the full story.
I refuse to take any more shit from these brats. Do not mess with Teacher Nami.

God, I miss college.

things that are making me angry this summer

a summary.
see this post on you're making me angry.

volume 1.

Half-Baked with "Judy"

nami
One day, around three weeks ago, I woke up from a long nap to find out that Jen had made reservations for us to go to a mud festival. What was a mud festival? I had no idea. How did she find a Korean mud festival; she didn't know anything about Korea or know how to read Korean. I had no idea. Where was she making these reservations, and from whom? I had no idea.

Okay, I naturally agreed, let's do it.

Jenn
I found said Boryeong Mud Festival on an English website for expats (Nami often forgets that I know how to use the internet). I was mildly perturbed by the predominance of white people in the photos. At the same time, i had lowered my standards for friendship to a basic command of the English language. Oh, and everyone looked young. I started to count my potential new friends on my hands as I joined a facebook group called "Mudfest Baby....Yeah."

The group's "creator", who we will call Judy Ra, had some sort of masochistic affinity for logistical nightmares and was offering to organize the transportation and hotel accommodations for the 400+ helpless, lazy, or lost souls listed under "confirmed guests." She and I emailed and she told me to deposit money into some bank account. This was a little sketch so I did some googling and she seemed like a legit person who hadn't scammed anyone during last year's mudfest. I persuaded Nami that transferring cash into a stranger's account was a good idea all the while knowing that we were asking for trouble. Judy took almost a week to confirm receipt of our payment. I was about 2 hours away from calling um......authorities.

nami
This was oddly reminiscent of our troubles with our Academy. Not only had we thrown our good sense and our Won out the window, but we had brought this upon ourselves, having instantly forgotten all lessons learned from the mess that was our Academy contract. "Don't trust Koreans" -- Why hadn't we learned our lesson? We were just as masochistic as Judy.

Jenn
So a week before we're due to go to Boryeong, Judy starts sending us group facebook messages to keep us in the know. My name isn't on the bus list she posts on the group wall. Great. I send her an email and she asks me if I joined the group and if I gave her money. This is encouraging. Much to my relief, she confirms that I have been on her list . The one she posted publicly must be a decoy.

Over the next few days, Nami and I witness Judy's life become living hell. The burden of planning weighs too heavily on her shoulders and fists start to fly. Her facebook account is so active that she is forced to create a pseudonym "Judi Rah". We receive group messages that read:

if you get problems during your trip BECAUSE you did not bother to read shit...I WILL NOT BE FEELING SORRY and I WILL NOT BE HELPFUL.

Some ppl ask for refunds....oh snap:

I am really pissed, I have had 2 korean ppl bitch me out because I said I don't do refunds after June 1st. Whoever was responsible for inviting them should be dealing with that crap not me.
I don't need this Bs...and if you know who you are freakin take care of it.

Shit starts gettin' real:

Ok who brought her?
She is not only blowing up my cellphone calling me a cheater and crazy bitch and even went as far as say...Let's see what happens on saturday...haha...

I think whoever brought her should talk to me and let me know whats up instead of me finding out later who you are coz this is ridiculous...and i have so much work to do...before was like whatever but now I am getting pissed...

Chaos ensues and Judy gets defensive:

I have to say this..why is everyone panicking?
Stop panicking....don't you think if anything bad was going on I woulld be ther one freaking out??? Seriously??
It's the fist weekend of mudfets that I busted my ass for...and wish everybody would just chill and have a good time....ok?

Two hours before our bus is set to leave, Nami and I still don't have any form of ticket or hotel reservation. Nami becomes so stressed out that she develops a migraine at school; she starts throwing up and has to leave early (the students are devastated that they had to miss TOEFL, if you can imagine) and sleeps from 1pm to 8pm. Fearing Nami's stress-induced wrath, I get Judy on the phone before the Namster begins to thirst for human blood. Judy tells me to not stress out, that I should just get on a bus, call her when i get to Boryeong because "that's what cell phones are for," and that i should "just have a fucking good time." I hang up the phone and persuade Nami that we just have to trust Judy that this will work out.

nami
at this point, my mother, witness to our distress and whining, turns to me and makes me promise that i will marry someone smart: "swear that you will marry someone smarter than you. and someone who'll be able to keep your brattiness in check." she is very supportive of us through this mess.

Jenn
We arrive at the bus station and have no idea where to go. We need to find exit 4.

nami
None of the signs show exit 4. I ask a subway worker. "Exit 4 doesn't exist." Jen and I look at each other, Mais oui.

Jenn
We run into another group of white people and before we can even say "Mud Fest," Nami and I have latched onto their search party for the elusive exit 4. Our new friends speak in a hodgepodge of british, australian, and New Zealand accents. How fun. We snake through a department store, go up and down some escalators, and I joke to Nami that our harry potter friends are going to make us run at a wall to get to this magical exit. Ten minutes later, we finally find it. Our group merges with the large crowd of foreigners already standing there. Nobody knows what's going on.

Finally, we learn that the buses are actually around the corner. Nami and I grab some seats and let out a sigh of relief. So far so good. However, our bus leaves 90 minutes later than scheduled for no disclosed reason. While we wait impatiently, we witness our fellow passengers leave their seats and return with bottles of beer and hard liquor. Apparently this is a crunk bus.

As we hit the road, Nami and I try to catch some Z's. However, our bus's surging blood-alcohol level thwarts our attempt at relaxation. Also, some one has turned on a large TV and the discovery channel is educating us about koalas at a deafening volume. I eavesdrop on a guy from New Jersey talking about his job as a martial arts instructor in Seoul. He looks and sounds exactly like his counterpart from Napoleon Dynamite. Behind us, a group of South Africans are making very strong rum and cokes, spilling them on each other and on everyone else as they stumble down the aisle.

We arrive in a parking lot in Boryeong around 3AM. There are about 6 bus-fulls of us seeking the infamous Judy to tell us what to do now. We spot her and surround her like a pack of hungry, completely-hammered wolves. She is holding a beer in one hand and a clipboard in the other. She shouts some stuff about how we should listen to her as she calls out names of rooming groups. I can't really hear her over the crowd and some drunk South African guy named Edgar with stains all over his shirt has started talking to me. He asks me where I'm from and when I reply Boston, he starts some sort of slurred and incoherent eulogy for the lead singer of Boston the band. I'm doing an ok job humoring him and straining my ears for Judy when Edgar (who now tells me to call him mario), asks me where I'm from. again. I quickly say something about having to find my friend and move to the other side of the crowd.

After a brief but entertaining scuffle with a very intoxicated and overweight white woman wearing a cowboy hat, Judy finally gets around to calling my name. We're paired up with a young couple from the midwest. I am delighted to discover that the husband has both the mannerisms and voice of a quintessential, pocket-protecting, sci-fi-reading nerd. We follow him and his wife, who is also charmingly dweeby, to a dingy hotel called the Renaissance.

nami
basically, we find out that we need confirmation codes or something of the like to get our rooms. we don't have that, i translate, the woman has it. what woman, they ask. the WOMAN, i repeat louder, the ONE WHO HAS THE CODES. they stare at me, i stare at them. they turn to each other and start rapid-firing in Korean. after over an hour, we get Judy on the phone with the hotel owners. OK, they tell me, we have the rooms for you. the next problem (because you can't stop at one) was that there weren't nearly enough rooms for all of us. blah blah blah, Jen and I get a room with 4 other ppl -- the dweeby couple, an older man, and...the drunken South African! we head upstairs. the Edgar's shirt is severely stained and he leans in close, his breath thick with the smell of soju and ass, i'm not a pervert. What? I'M NOT A PERVERT I'M NOT A PERVERT, he starts to say louder and louder. It is all very convincing and I inch away. Edgar turns to the older man and asks him if he saw what he (Edgar) had done on the bus. The older man nods. Edgar responds, "I'm not gay. I'm not a pervert." We have no idea what happened on the bus and we don't want to find out (but I do, a little). He turns towards Jen, "Where are you from?" I look at Jen.

All six of us were supposed to sleep on the floor. Next to each other, on blanket-mats. The couple took the corner. Jen and I were to be sandwiched by Edgar and the older man. Very cozy. Needless to say, we decided to leave. Or rather, I told Jen that there was no way we were staying here and that even though it was 4:30am, I would rather us be homeless than sleeping next to Edgar, the non-pervert.

Long story short, we left the Renaissance. We returned to the parking lot. Met our third group of friends. Marco, another drunken South African (but young and kinda cute), is...drunk. He drops two handles of vodka at my feet; my legs are covered in alcohol, in addition to mosquito bites. Feeling sorry, he lies down at my feet and begins to swat all the mosquitoes away. Don't worry, I will rescue your legs. I inch away.

We head to yet another "Mudfest Judy" hotel. There, we find another 20+ homeless foreigners and a crazed Judy.

She is yelling at the hotel owner that she is going to "ruin" him, that she trusted him, that she paid him, blah blah blah, he's yelling she's crying, I stop listening, I'm tired I want my room. We walk back and forth between the Renaissance and this hotel for another two hours, elongated pacing if you will.

Finally, at around 6:30am, we head back to the non-Renaissance hotel. As we approach, Judy's eyes meet mine, You still don't have a room? No, I shake my head sadly. Here, take them, Judy tells two boys standing next to her, These are your new roommates.

We walk towards yet another hotel -- Green Park, following the hotel owner who rides ahead of us on a little moped bike. He is told to get us "the largest room" in GP. As we ride up the elevator, he turns to me and the questioning begins. Why are you the only Korean? Is one of these guys your boyfriend? he asks me. I don't know, No, I answer. Are they your...friends? he tries. No...we just met them, I reply. He raises an eyebrow, Lucky you.

Conclusion:
1. Our room was SWEET. Big beds (the other guests had to sleep on the blanket-mats), AC, TV, blowdryers, etc -- the conveniences of ANY normal hotel room were considered luxuries in Boryeoung.
2. Judy covered the extra costs (our hotel room cost 4x as much as the other rooms)
3. We made new friends (our nonbf, nonfriend roommates and their friends)

4. We slept like babies.

Post on the actual Mudfest to come! (once we get our disposable cameras developed)

Postscript: We saw Edgar on the bus ride back. His leg appeared to be broken and in a cast. We were not surprised. As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, someone told Edgar he had left his backpack at the Renaissance.

feel me, prlends.

Updates!

1. We are staying in Korea, after all (and so the blog lives on). We still haven't signed our contract yet, but maybe we will tomorrow? Stay tuned...
   
2. I no longer have a cell phone. I lost it in Club Harlem (a "booby booby club", acc. to natives -- not quite sure what it means) after giving my number to a Canadian. Serves me right (sorry, i won't do it again; you know who you are). Call Jen's.
   
3. We are officially in business as Korean matchmakers. Every male we've met (ages 18-35) is desperately seeking a Korean gf/wife. It has become our job to find them women. We tell them we don't have any friends to set them up wtith, but they ask us to try anyway.

   
4. Dating culture is HUGE here. Couples abound, in matching outfits, called Couple Tees (from hats, shirts, to shoes). It's the cool (and economical) thing to do - couples get discounts on everything! (the following photos were taken at LotteWorld).
   
   
5. We got fingerprinted. At the police station, a military officer (a 22-year-old in the middle of his mandatory 2-year service) asked for my number and contact information and that I return in 2 years (once he's done serving his country) because he "wanted to touch [me]." I felt uncomfortable, but he insisted.
6. Koreans have extremely low alcohol tolerance, compared to us college grads. Jen and I have amazing stamina. When we call them the next day at 2pm, they're just waking up. College has prepared us well.
   
7. We saw Shia LaBeouf. In Transformers (or Teu-len-seuh-poh-muh, as Koreans call it), that is. We were two of the only people in the theater (everyone had seen it a week earlier). We had assigned seats, popcorn, and dried "butte" squid. It was effin awesome. I love America. and Robots!
   
   
   
8. On the fourth of July, we decided to go all-American and eat Mexican food for dinner. At night, we hit Itaewon (the American enclave near the military base) and saw many transvestites, drunk American soldiers, and fat white chicks in pastel tank tops. We played darts with the boys and won, thoroughly emasculating them even further. It was close but Ellen scored 2 bulls-eyes in a row to secure our victory and another round of free drinks.
   

   
9. We went shopping. The clothes were tiny and indecipherable.
   

The last shirt, which Jen purchased, reads as such:

Feel me, prlends [friends] that you feel my am, proteaol [???] that you love me, puted [??] that you that me, know I do.

Amen.

birthday

this will be the last blogpost on seoulmateys. i will be shutting it down shortly. sorry, readers, but i assure you that you don't really care.
- - -

so, today was my birthday. two years ago, i got into a huge car accident on the autobahn on the way to salzburg and fractured my ribs and sprained my ankle and dan broke his hand. while less dramatic, today seems worse. in an emotional, disheartening way. at least austria was dramatic and made a good story. this is just stupid.

- first of all, i'm in korea, stuck teaching at some academy but making almost no money. already the worst summer ever by far.

- then, we were going to go kayaking but it was a rainy day. okay, alright.

- third, we were going to have a group faculty lunch or something, according to jen, but that fell through so we just grabbed a quick bite. then since it was sort of a dreary day, we went home on the few days we get off from work early.

- the next 6 hours consist of sobs and phone calls to my mother asking her not to leave me in this godforsaken country when she goes back home next week. i beg her to take me with her - that i came to korea to either sightsee or make money but that neither is happening with this schedule/academy. six to seven hours of heavy sobbing and crying on the phone.

- it's dinner time, we don't want korean food. we walk around and go to this kalbi place. i ask for kalbi and the waiter also recommends something else. 1. it's not kalbi. 2. the something else is cow stomach. and very gross. 3. jen knocks down all the cooking utensils and i proceed to get 8 mosquito bites in 5 minutes.

- in the 6th minute, our grill goes up in flames. not small flames but over your head, burning everything in sight, licking the edges of our tables and flickering through our hands kind of flames. it continues to flare up, the restaurant watches us silently, all the staff run over trying to put it out to no avail. we'd never seen a flame so ferocious. "we're sorry, we forgot to put the water on the bottom," they apologize. we just watch. after what seems like eternity, the staff douses enough water all over our table to put out the fire. everything is burnt. "we will get you new stuff," they offer. no bother, i tell them, we're going.

- starving, we go to this place called twotwo chicken which is supposed to be like kyochon aka bonchon aka the korean fried chicken we know and love and have read about in the times. it's not. of course. we gag, eat some of it and then jet out.

this is just a quick recap. i wish it were more exciting to make this funny, but it was just lame. stuck in korea, went to work, came home, cried and worried over being stuck here poor, almost burned our faces and hands at dinner, then came home.

if i didn't already make this clear, i want to go home. i need to go home. as i was walking down the pedestrian un-friendly, sidewalk-less side streets, i thought, if one of these speeding, irreverent motorbikes or cars hit me, then i definitely get to go home, or at least leave korea. i paused and then narrowly sidestepped a delivery motorbike at the last minute. maybe, i thought, but not on my birthday.

I'd tap that...korean drum.

Dear Blog,

Today Nami and I were determined to walk the whole length of the Cheonggye Stream (an artificial stream that runs through 6k of downtown Seoul) from the pumps to the river. Long story short: we didn't.

Long story long:
We got off the subway in an unfamiliar part of the city and were walking towards the stream when we came across Deoksugung Palace. As we contemplated whether or not we should check it out, we approached a large, decorated drum in front of the entrance. The moment we reached it, a woman holding a clipboard popped out of nowhere and started talking to me. I was about to tell her I wasn't interested in signing her petition when she asked me if I wanted to hit the drum. "Sure?" I replied. She quickly mentioned something about a ceremony, changing of the guards, hit the drum three times, foreigners...i missed a bunch of the words. "Um, when?" I asked. "Right now." and then she quickly disappeared. Suddenly, trumpets started and men in traditional Korean costume began filing towards where Nami and I were standing. Crap, where did that lady go! What do i hit the drum with...my fist, an open palm even though it's not a bongo? We had only been here for 2 minutes and now we were part of some random ceremony.

Right when I began to worry that I was going to accidentally punch a hole in this fancy drum, the lady appeared again with a stick (or drum bat..whatever). Then this other dude instructed me in how to bang the drum (essentially give it a good whack).
At this point, spectators had gathered to watch this display of korean pomp and circumstance...and some pasty and confused American girl awkwardly participate. When I was given the cue, I did my thing and swung. I'd say I did a pretty good job. I didn't screw up the ceremony (or the drum) which was pretty much my main concern.

The changing of the palace guard wrapped up and the lady handed me the clip board with a list of other foreigners' names. Apparently, they always single out a non-korean in the crowd and make him/her hit the drum. I had to give them my email address so I assume I'm going to be put on some special and exclusive "foreigner-cum-palace percussionist" email list where we'll share our experiences and receive updates on other opportunities to hit fancy korean drums.

Anyway, at this point Nami and I felt obligated to check out this palace so we paid the admission fee (you would think an important person like myself would've gotten a complimentary ticket) and went inside. As per usual, I pressured Nami into posing for ridiculous photos:

We had just finished shooting that last little gem when this cute little man asked us to pose again so that he could take a photo of us acting idiotic at one of Korea's most historic landmarks. So Nami re-mounted the statue and I pretended to take another photo while this guy took a photo of us...meta. After that, he wanted to take pictures with us. He held Nami's hand and stepped away from her. Awkward but adorable.

Then he took a picture with the giant white girl.

He told us he was an amateur photographer taking photos for a competition for which the theme was foreigners visiting Korean monuments. We were the perfect subjects. He took some more pictures of us walking and bid us ado. But then he found us again 15 minutes later and took more pictures of us being foreign but this time we weren't doing stupid things with stone objects.

However, 5 minutes after he left us again, we were back at it. Found this little dude as we were leaving:

It started to rain just as we exited the palace so Cheonggye Stream is saved for another day.

What' SUB?, or Seoul's secret auguries.

Anorexia, pork, standardized tests, and the search for affordable iced coffee have pretty much characterized our first ten days in Seoul (entries on all the aforementioned delights will be posted shortly). However, the motif that most succinctly and accurately defines our Korean exploits thus far is signage.
What is a sign? According to a quick Google define: sign search, a sign is "a perceptible indication of something not immediately apparent (a visible clue)," "a public display of a message," "a signal that encodes a message," and lastly, "an augury (indicating important things to come)." So, dearest Seoul, what are you trying to tell us? What will our future hold?
What kind of augury is this? This summer, we will attempt to decipher Seoul's encoded message by piecing together (from here on forth, we will call this operation "playing puzzle") the signs and labels she reveals to us in our commute, shopping sprees, and drunken stupors.
The message so far seems to be that:

Seoul can be a dangerous place. We should take care lest we fall on our heads. That being said, we should always keep a lookout for [what' sub] because Seoul is an [always funny world]. This trip may feel like [a twosome place], but we need to cut loose, get our [hooch] on, and just listen to the sexy red-headed cartoon chick and grab a cheese stick in this city that is [man's place for relaxation]. We might feel down at times, but we mustn't give up hope on gettin' down -- this city may be full of overbearing Asians who can't dance, but sometimes it can be [so black].

And so it is written. Let's play puzzle.