The Zingara Project

Author: Lisa Hase-Jackson

  • Anecdotes and Advice Revisited: Deodorant in South Korea

    Among the many words of advice passed along when people learned told I was moving to South Korea to teach was to “pack a year’s worth of deodorant” because it would be difficult to find, and even when found, would be expensive and possibly ineffective.

    I researched this advice a little before leaving the states, mostly by cruising blogs of others living in South Korea (and documenting their experience) and expat advice sites and found among all these sources a consensus that, yes, indeed, deodorant is difficult to find in South Korea.

    Eager to test the validity of this rumor once I had arrived in South Korea, I made it a point to check out the toiletries aisle at our neighborhood E-mart during our first shopping expedition. The aisle was well stocked with every imaginable health and beauty product available, from shampoo and conditioner to toothpaste to shaving cream and disposable razors. “Ah ha!” I thought smugly to myself. “Deodorant is surely among this variety of products.” I walked confidently down the aisle expecting any moment to see Korean versions of recognizable brands like “Secret” and “Old Spice” or some other Korean deodorant counterpart. But no, there was no sign of deodorant of any kind. I even tried a couple of other likely aisles thinking perhaps E-mart arranges their toiletries in a different manner than American department store, but I never found any deodorant at E-Mart that day, or any day since.

    Several months had passed since that first search for deodorant when I went to Itaewon for the first time to shop at the Foreign Food Market (which carries American products). There, on a high shelf behind the counter, safe from the hands of casual shoppers and possible shoplifters, I noticed a collection of “foreign” beauty products. There, sitting between a bottle of Nivea body lotion and a container of Noxzema was a row of various brands of American deodorants. Because I had taken the advice of all those many expat blogs and websites and stocked up on deodorant before I came (thank you Dollar General Store) , I had no need to inquire into the price of those sticks of deodorant, but considering Campbell’s Tomato Soup is over $3.00 a can, I’ve no doubt the those rolls and sticks of deodorant were over priced and comparatively expensive.

    But perhaps the proliferation of deodorant on the shelves of E-Mart and like chain stores is not too far in South Korea’s future. South Koreans are very consumerist oriented and lately I’ve been noticing advertisements on the subway for prescription antiperspirant, and really deodorant is not a big leap from antiperspirant, is it? (I know I confuse the two all the time). I also know Korean people to be fastidious in the personal hygiene as well as avid consumers, two conditions which, combined, seem to me to make an auspicious market for deodorant companies.

    Consider dairy products as an example. I assumed there would be few dairy products in S. Korea for a couple of reasons: One, where would dairy cows be kept? Secondly, as far as I know, lactose intolerance is common here. So I was surprised to find isles and aisles of dairy products at E-mart. Milk of every flavor (chocolate, strawberry, banana, peach, mango), American branded yogurt, drinkable yogurt (delicious, by the way), pudding and all kinds of ice cream. The only dairy product that has not much caught on yet is cheese (still available, but expensive).

    So why all the dairy products? I would bet is has to do with marketing.

    Stationed on sidewalks in front of schools and academies on any given day you can find well-dressed representatives of myriad companies promoting milk products the best way possible – by giving away free samples to kids. Convenience store owners also offer an extra carton of flavored milk as “service” to customers buying something from their store. Also, there is a lot of positive advertising for dairy products on billboards in the city and on the

    Be White
    Be White subway. The most memorable of these is an imperative from “Smoothie King” to “Be White.” A slogan successful because white skin is highly prized in this part of the world, though it certainly doesn’t hurt to have celebrity endorsement of the likes of Olympic Gold Medalist, Yuna Kim.

    I believe it is the direct result of this heavy marketing that S. Koreans have embraced dairy products as enthusiastically as they have eating meat for three meals a day (as opposed to hardly ever). So, it is no big stretch of the imagination that, should deodorant companies begin marketing campaigns as aggressive as that of dairy products, deodorant companies will easily convince S. Koreans that they need these products despite the likely fact that they do not. I mean, if marketing can convince people to drink a product that is arguably hard on their digestive system, why wouldn’t it work equally well to convince people that don’t sweat much from their armpits that they need a product to prevent or minimize the odor of such bodily function? No much at all, I fear.

    At this writing, unless you have access to the army base, deodorant is still pretty difficult find in South Korea and expensive when it is found.  If you are headed to the R.O.K and deodorant is an important part of your personal hygiene, I recommend packing extra for the trip.

    If you are the sort who is overly concerned about such things as the availability of deodorant in a foreign country, then you may want to reconsider your trip all together.

  • I Survived Typhoon Kompasu and All I Got Was This Lousy Post

    Wow. Well, I guess I can say that I have lived through a typhoon, and while the effects of Typhoon Kompasu were far worse in Incheon and other coastal areas than in Peyongchon, I found the experience quite frightening nonetheless.

    I was awakened Thursday morning by the sound of wind at around 6:oo AM, which literally howled through the open windows on either end of the long hallway that runs outside our officetel, sounding much like freight train. Having been raised in the Midwest (in Kansas no less) my first thought was that we were experiencing a tornado, or at least tornadic weather, but then I remember that I am in Korea where there are no tornadoes. I really had no idea what was going on, only that the wind was stronger than anything I’d ever experienced and, unlike storms in the Midwest, it did not subside for hours.

    I listened hard to hear if any of the neighbors were leaving their officetels to go to the basement (or rather, the lower five levels of our building), which is what living in the Midwest has conditioned me to do during a storm, or for any indication of how to behave. But, other than the sound of the wind, there was nothing to hear. So I laid in bed imagining the havoc the wind was causing and tried to fall back to sleep. I achieved some fitful dozing over the next couple of hours but no real sleep until the storm had passed.

    We had plans to meet friends around 10:00 that morning and go to Dongdaemun, and as we walked to the coffee shop that was our designated meeting place, we noticed downed limbs and broken glass around our neighborhood. The further we walked, the more damage we noticed: vending machines on their sides, windows blown out, small trees uprooted. When we got to the coffee shop, we found they weren’t open yet. One of the owners was out front cleaning up the debris, and fortunately, because the coffee shop is located on the ground floor on the East side of a pretty sturdy building, it had not received any grave damage to its front. Only the owner with the key was late getting to work. We were told, in a quintessentially Korean manner by the owner who was present, to “stay.”

    The second owner arrived in a matter of minutes and told us it would take 20 minutes to get the coffee/espresso machine going, so we said we’d come back for our beverages later in the day. But, as we begun discussing our plans to go to Dongdaemun, she mentioned that a couple of the subway lines were down. After some thought and discussion, we reasoned that even if our subway line was cleared for travel, Dondaemun was probably as late opening as was our local coffee shop. We decided to stay and order beverages while we mulled over our next move.

    Our decision was to spend the morning somewhere more local, so we hailed a couple of cabs to to carry our five selves across the river to Anyang station, an area known for its shopping.  On our way we saw a lot more damage. Large trees uprooted, glass and metal signs of considerable size lying smashed on the streets, awnings shredded, their frames twisted and deformed on sidewalks, more limbs and broken glass everywhere. I was impressed and realized just how mild the damage I was witnessing must be compared to the coastal areas. I also felt fortunate to live as far inland as I do.

    The thing about a typhoon is that its effects are  much more widespread than a tornado’s. Unlike a tornado, which will just take out a farmhouse here, a shopping mall there, topple a few cars and twist a few trees, a typhoon overwhelms an entire geographic area, like a peninsula, and effect all of it. It’s only the degree of damage that varies.

    The coffee shop owners mentioned that Korea experiences a storm of such magnitude about once a year, a fact that has been corroborated by several other of our Korean acquaintances.

    I suffered no real harm from the experience, only lost some sleep, which I do on a regular basis for much less interesting reasons all the time. But actually living in a place where typhoons exist and getting a sense of the kind of damage they can cause has certainly ignited my imagination and given me a new perspective about them. I really hope I never have to experience one any closer than I have.

    Most of my friends, consequently, slept through the whole thing.

    Related Articles

  • Pyeongchon Writers’ Group Final Reading a Success

    While in Anyang, I’ve  had the opportunity and great joy to work with a small group of Expatriate writers who, from January to August 2010, met  bi-weekly in Pyeongchon coffee shops, office-tels and restaurants to share stories, frustrations, goals, and best of all, creative writings. Some of our work consisted of old stories and poems we hoped to revive while others were  inspired by our experiences in S. Korea. On August 22nd, we held a reading at the home of one of our members to share with the world a few of the more significant fruits of our labor. In addition to reading some of our work, we assembled collection of our pieces in a small chapbook to share with attendees and friends. Both the reading and the chapbook were well received.

    Pyeongchon Writers' Group 2010
    Pyeongchon Writers’ Group 2010

    Author Bios (from left to right):

    Gary Jackson is the winner of the 2009 Cave Canem Poetry Prize for his first book Missing You, Metropolis. He was born and raised in Topeka, Kansas, and received his Master of Fine Arts degree in poetry from the University of New Mexico in 2008.

    Lisa M. Hase (back row) holds a Master’s Degree in English with an emphasis in writing from Kansas State University. Her poems have appeared in such literary magazines as Susquehanna Review, Midwest Quarter and Sub-scribe Online Magazine.

    Derrika Hunt (back row) was born and raised in South Florida and much of her writing is inspired by the many challenges she faced growing up there. She writes for all of those voices that have been silenced.

    Chau Nguyen was born in Stockton and raised in Pomona, CA, and educated by worldly travels and her folks. She is a graduate of the University of California, Berkeley.

    Members not shown: Sonali Maulik and Cereba Barrios

  • Newest Abcedarian Story: “The Ant and The Bee” (as Written by Chung Dahm Students)

    Thursday was the last night for my Comp. 100 class, and as is often my habit, I had my students write an “abcedarian” story (though abcedarian is usually a poetry exercise  rather than a short story exercise). Each student begins a story by writing a sentence beginning with the letter “a.” The paper is then passed to the next student, whose next, somewhat cohesive sentence, should begin with the letter “b,” and so forth until either time runs out or the letter “z” is reached. Sometimes a letter or two may get skipped until all the students get the hang of it, but generally they catch on pretty quick.  I also like to sit in on the circle and add a few sentences. Stories are titled after they are written.

    It’s always interesting to see how students approach this exercise.  Last term’s Comp. 100 class really labored over each and every sentence and were  genuinely amused by the results. This term’s students, while no less serious, seemed to approach the exercise with efficiency. As a result, their stories were a little longer (we got to “v” this term while last term we only got to “t”), but no less amusing.

    Here is this term’s winning story (based on student votes):

    “The Ant and the Bee”

    An ant is moving up a hill. But the ant wanted to fly to the sky when it went to the top of a hill. Carelessly, he jumped, flapping his arms. Directly, he jumped to another hill, where he found another ant trying to fly. Elephants could be seen in the distance.

    “Failure isn’t in my dictionary!” he cried out before he fell into the middle of the forest.

    Gorilla was searching for food in the forest, saw the ant flying toward him and shouted “flying ant!” Horrified, the gorilla ran away screaming “I’ve never seen a jumping ant…I must be crazy!”

    I don’t know why that gorilla is running away”  the ant said. “Just because of little old me?” the ant wondered. Knowing that his energy was consumed, the ant decided to explore the jungle, but he heard people shouting about jelly and eggs.

    “Lovely…I want to taste them a little…should I?” the ant wondered. Mostly without thinking one more second about it, the ant followed the smell.

    “No!” someone shouted  quickly, “it is trap of humans!”

    On top of the flower, there was something small saying something.

    “Please, please, someone help me!” a bee said.

    “Quite down so I can concentrate…how can I get up this flower?” the ant said.

    “Really easy! Fly!” the bee kept suggesting.

    Something caught up in his mind. “To me to fly? No. I can’t, it was just a jump” the ant said honestly.Unless…what can I do?”

    Vanity never gets you anywhere.

  • Why Korean ESL Students Ask “Why?”

    Many new Korean ESL instructors are sure to notice that their students have a peculiar way of asking the question “why?’ They will notice, for example, that from the mouths of a Korean ESL student, the question “why” has the kind of emphasized lilt which illustrates, without a doubt, that the student clearly understands how a question mark influences the inflection of a word. Instructors may also notice that their students will add an extra syllable to the word, thus “why” ends up sounding something like “why-ee?”

    I’m no linguist, but I believe that at least part of the reason students exaggerate the long “e” in “why” has a little something to do with the fact that the English word for why sounds somewhat similar to the Hangul word of the same meaning, which sounds something like “whea.”

    Now consider for a moment that Korean ESL students are expected to speak English exclusively during class time and, further, that the penalty for speaking Hangul during class includes anything from a lower participation grade (and Korean students DO take their participation grade seriously) to a two-minute speech on a subject of the teacher’s choosing – in English. It logically follows then that students want to make sure there is no confusion over which language they are speaking, thus the emphasis on the difference in vowel sounds.

    This does not necessarily explain, however, why they drag out the long “e” when their teachers announce it is time to take the weekly review test or in-class quiz. In those instances they are clearly just trying to annoy their teachers.

    New instructors are also sure to  notice that Korean students use the question “why” as a kind of catch all for all “wh” questions. For example, say Yoojin’s friend comes by her classroom during break to talk to her and calls her name from the doorway to get her attention. While  most American kids would answer “what?” a Korean kid will respond “why-ee?” Students respond similarly when called on by a teacher to answer a question or read aloud.

    Important for new instructors to remember is that since “why” is not always used literally, it is wise to take a moment to consider the context in which the student is using it. Honestly, the sooner this technique can be mastered the sooner instructors can minimize the amount of class time taken up by asking students, in a puzzled tone, “what do you mean, why?”

    Again, I am no professional and can only base my theories on classroom observations, which probably hold about as much water as a mother’s intuition over, say, the educated diagnosis of a trained pediatrician. Still, I believe that English teachers themselves encourage the improper usage of the word “why.”

    Instructors are encouraged to use the Socratic Method to guide students through essays; that is, they ask leading questions that encourage students to find the answers for themselves and respond verbally, which arguably encourages participation. While I always figured that the Socratic Method was meant to encourage students to think more deeply about philosophical questions and not merely for skimming passages, it does have some practical application. Unfortunately, and this is especially true when working with reticent youth, it becomes very necessary to ask absurdly pointed questions to get the students to respond appropriately. As a result, the Socratic Method comes off sounding a little something like this:

    “OK Jimmy, according to paragraph two, line three,  aerobic exercise is beneficial becauuuussse….why?

    Obviously, the proper way to ask questions like this is to front-load it with whatever “wh” question is appropriate. But, since most instructors have little to no experience with or training in pedagogy, much less child development, and are merely trying to do their job, which is to get Jimmy to say the right thing,  the application of the Socratic Method becomes a kind of  fill-in-the-blank word game.

    Finally, ESL instructors contribute to the “why” phenomenon when trying to induce topical conversation in the classroom. For example, while trying to break up the monotony of the repetitive main-idea-and-supporting-detail-outlines teachers must illustrate on the board throughout class, they may stop periodically to ask simple content questions, usually something along the lines of:

    “So, do you think deforestation is good or bad?”

    Regardless of a student’s response, however blatant that response may be, instructors, in an attempt to encourage discussion (for which there is not time) will reply with the now infamous question “why?” i.e. why do you think deforestation is bad? This is generally followed by a thirty second discussion of little to no consequence before the teacher must move on to stay on schedule, no one being the wiser.

    New instructors will also discover, and this is the best part, that teaching is as much about being influenced by students as it is about influencing them. I mean, I could obnoxiously insist that my fellow instructors amend their teaching ways and preach the proper pathways to good grammar (as if I knew), probably causing new instructors all kinds of unnecessary paranoia in the process. Instead, I rather encourage teachers to view the “why” phenomenon the same way I have come to view all Konglish; as a kind of in-between language that captures something that neither language can capture without the other. So, if you are, or will soon become, a new ESL instructor in Korea, I say let yourself be influenced by your students and, most of all, let yourself be influenced by Konglish. Learn to respond to a moment of confusion or the call of a friend the same way students do and the same way I and my fellow instructors have learned to do as well. Learn to just ask “why-ee?”

  • “The Lisa Song:” A Gift from my Chung Dahm Students (South Korea)

    One of my favorite students ran into my classroom this afternoon before

    Front Cover

    classes started and gave me a piece of chocolate cake from Paris Baguette and a big handmade construction paper card. I’m not sure for what occasion – late birthday or early going away gift? Perhaps just an assignment from one of her summer intensive classes? Anyway, I couldn’t wait to share it and have copied the contents of the  card here (verbatim):

    Lisa

    Wacky night Lisaish night

    When all the kids tango to the moon

    Presidents appear and waltz with you

    A bear appear and tap dance with Lisa

    Every thing is so wacky, you can dance

    to the son.

    Crazy night Lisaish night

    when all the birds fly out to space

    A pig sings “sing” and dance with you.

    A spider back flips and turn cart wheels

    Every thing is so Lizaish, You can eat

    pigs head.

    It was a super special thing to get since I have been feeling a little blue these last couple of days. It’s nice to think “kids tango to the moon” on my night, though I don’t know about eating pigs head.

    `

  • Last Weeks of My Last Term at ChungDahm

    Summer in Korea
    Summer in Korea

    It hardly seems possible that it’s already the first week in August, though the weather outside certainly confirms the fact. I’ve never lived anywhere so humid and hot in my life. Even in the Midwest, the humidity never really goes above, say 70 percent, and even then, not for very long. Here, the humidity ranges between 75 and 100 percent every day while the temperatures are routinely in the 90s (Fahrenheit). It’ always about to rain, raining or just finished raining too, so things are always dripping wet. Rather than comparing the atmosphere to a sauna, a more apt analogy is a tropical rain forest. Often the moisture is so dense you can actually see it in the air, almost cut through it with your hand. It reminds me of the many misty photos of Asia I’ve seen in my life, though I can tell you walking through these landscapes is not nearly as romantic as they are to look at.

    Things are changing rapidly at my branch. Both of our branch’s Faculty Managers have moved up to HQ and about half of the faculty are leaving. This is mostly due to the fact that, like Gary and I, most instructors’ one-year contracts are coming to an end. This was the last week for at least four “veteran” instructors and there are four new instructors haunting the halls, sitting in on classes and trying to learn the ropes. They don’t know just how lucky they are to get a week to observe and adjust, for certainly not all new instructors get that privilege. They have been asking questions about why so many people are leaving. We give them the standard explanation that contracts are expiring and people usually choose to leave at term’s end. It’s too difficult to explain fully why most instructors don’t renew. There are just too many nuances that a new instructor could not possible understand, and no one wants to terrify a new person. It’s better they see for themselves what it’s like to work for ChungDahm. Besides, it’s a different experience for everyone.

    Most of my students are all doing pretty well, though they are a little more excitable than usual because they are on school break (yes, they still come to academy during school break).  I have built great rapport with many of my students and feel like I have become rather masterful at managing a classroom of elementary or middle school students. I have even made progress with one of my most difficult students, who I have had in my Wednesday 4:00 pm class for three terms in a row now.  On most days, he follows my instruction and does as I say with little resistance. Just the other day, for example, instead of choosing to act out in anger by kicking his desk, as is his habit, he simply stated that he felt angry. I was a little stunned that he chose to articulate his feelings rather than acting on them without thought. I also feel like my rapport with him had a little something to do with his choice. All in all, I view this change as progress.

    Another one of my students recently won a prize for best webzine. Since I am his teacher, and he made the webzine for my class, I get a little recognition too. A staff member came around to my class and snapped a picture of me with the student, though I have no idea how the photo will be used. (Probably some promotional marketing pamphlet somewhere).

    Right now I am in the middle of a bit of a time crunch. It’s enough to keep me on my toes and make me a little resentful that I don’t have more time to write this week, especially since taking on an extra class, but I also know it won’t last long and I have lots of great poems in the works.

    Only three more weeks of gainful employment before Gary and I head south to Busan for a well deserved, and real, vacation by the sea, followed by an adventurous visit to Tokyo, Japan.  We’ll be back in the states by September 20th.

  • Leaving South Korea:Last Weeks At Chung Dahm

    Seven is the number of the month in which I was born, and the number of the month in which we find ourselves in now, this 2010th year AD. But the significance of this number today has to do with the number of weeks left in my contract with Chung Dahm; the number of weeks in which I still have gainful employment.

    It means only seven more weeks of Closed Circuit Television and working 4:00 to 10:00 PM with only one or two five-minute breaks and never sitting more than a couple of minutes at at time. Only seven more weeks of lesson planning and grading online essays with their strange and arbitrary set of parameters, e.g. you must make exactly seven comments, each comment must contain 250-350 characters,  include the student’s name, an example and make reference to the in-class lesson.

    It also means only seven more weeks to spend time with some pretty amazing students who bring me a great deal of joy and laughter and who have exponentially increased my enjoyment of Korea and the quality of my life’s experiences. Only seven more weeks to interact with these kids and appreciate their unique perspective of the English language and American culture. Only seven more weeks to spend time with awesome co-workers turned friends and fellow writers whose insight and experience will no doubt continue to inspire me long into the future, wherever we may find ourselves.

    As in past experiences, as I prepare to move from one geographical area and way of life to another, my experience of and interactions with the objects and inhabitants of this world are more vivid than in months previous. The lines that frame objects and people are sharper, their colors, if not always brighter or identifiable, more noticeable. Even the moisture that sticks to my skin as I move through the humid Korean air is weightier.

    I began my countdown the first week I started working for CDI, when I was culture shocked and slightly traumatized by a week-long training session that was quite different from my expectations, despite my efforts to suspend those expectations. I kept counting down through the first awkward, stressful weeks of my first term teaching children who I could barely understand and who arguably didn’t understand me – wondering all the while how anything could be taught or learned in an environment in which the language barrier was so pronounced. And when homesickness pierced my liver and shot through my heart after every American holiday, I counted even more carefully the weeks left in my contract.

    Now the acute awareness over every awkward mistake of my early weeks in Korea has begun to give way to acute awareness of momentary perfections, often manifesting in the beautiful faces of my students. My relief over surviving another day now daily metamorphoses into confidence that comes from  perseverance.  I am not longer timid to tell a student he or she is not doing well nor do I refrain from taking their cell phones. I no longer fret over Korean people staring at me on the subway, or the lack of friendly acknowledgments from fellow foreigners on the street. Today, I move through the streets with confidence and teach like an expert. Today, I know these days, at least for me, are coming to an end.

  • Gary and Lisa’s Travel and Photo Journal for Jeju Island, March 2010

    Jeju Island is located south of the Korean peninsula about an hour’s flight away from Seoul’s Gimpo Airport. Gary and I spent four days visiting the island during our vacation from Chungdahm the last week of March, 2010, and even though it was too cool for the beach, we found plenty of fun things to do around the resort area, all of it within walking distance of our hotel.

    We stayed at the Jeju Hana Hotel (hana is Hangul for one) located in the Seogwipo-si resort area among a cluster of hotels, golf clubs, and tourist attractions. Our hotel was reasonably priced and had a bath tub, a luxury since most officetels do not have tubs, only showers.

    Though the Hana Hotel has a nice restaurant, we were visiting during the off season and the restaurant closed in the evenings. This fact prompted us to explore the area for other dining options. We included in our search all nearby hotels and found Hyatt’s accommodations to be among our best. Of course, being open might have had something to do with that.

    The Jeju Hyat is located down the road from the Hana Hotel and has a stunning view overlooking the ocean. Around its grounds are a number of scenic pathways built for strolling and enjoying the local plant life. Visitors can take advantage of these pathways as alternate routes to different parts of the resort compound.

    The lobby of Jeju Hyatt also features and indoor koi and goldfish pond with a half-dozen small ducks waddling about. I’m not sure what kept those ducks from flying beyond the perimeter of the indoor pond (their wings did not appear to have been clipped), but they never did. Perhaps they intuited they would get cooked if they didn’t mind their territory.

    Many of the other nearby restaurants were also closed for the season, but that didn’t stop us from walking around and snapping a few pictures. Many restaurants on the island offer horse meat and, of course, all types of seafood. Here are a few exterior shots of one traditional-style restaurant near our hotel.

    Up the road in the opposite direction of the Hyatt are a number of tourist attractions. We visited the “Sound Island Museum,” which includes in its collection a number of  phonographs (circa Edison vintage), musical instruments from different regions of the world and a couple of rooms filled porcelain nick-knacks and dolls arranged in a kind of diorama. We never figured out exactly why these scenes were on display or their relation to sound and music but speculated that perhaps they are some kind of personal collection belonging to the museum the owners who have no better place to store or exhibit these things. Korean people are, after all, very efficient with space.

    Photo courtesy of the Official Site of Korea Tourism

    Later, we ambled over to Jeju-do Chocolate Factory, famous for being the only chocolate factory in Asia in the 10 top chocolate factories of the world list. It feature an impressive art gallery consisting of a number of miniatures and “paintings” rendered in chocolate.  It also features a ‘Bean to Bar’ showroom, which shows the entire process of chocolate beans’ transformation into chocolate. Finally, there is a showroom and gift shop where visitors can purchase Jeju Island chocolate. Since the area is also famous for it’s huge, delicious oranges (which adorn trees all across the island this time of year) visitors can also purchase orange flavored chocolate.

    Jeju Botanical Gardens: Greenhouse
    Jeju Botanical Gardens: Greenhouse

    Not far from the Sound Museum and Chocolate Museum is the Jeju Teddy Bear Museum. Korean people have the corner market on cute, and so it’s not terribly surprising that there exists a museum celebrating cuteness as encapsulated by the iconic teddy bear.

    The Seogwipo-si area boasts a spectacular botanical garden and is perhaps the best attraction in the area. The indoor compound contains a number of greenhouse gardens that including a simulated desert, water gardens, and a tropical plant and exotic fruit bearing tree greenhouse.

    Cacti and Succulents

    Kimchi Pots
    Kimchi Pots
    Banana Tree
    Banana Tree
    Inside the top
    Inside the top
    View from the Top
    View from the Top
    European Gardens
    European Gardens
    Italian Gardens
    Italian Gardens
    Japanese Gardens
    Japanese Gardens
    Korean Traditional Garden
    Korean Traditional Garden

    Not far from the Jeju Botanical gardens is a beautiful traditional style bridge with a view of a nearby waterfall.  There is also a lovely  Pagoda and fountain nearby, as pictured here.

    Good Luck Fountain
    Good Luck Fountain
    Pagoda Palace
    Pagoda Palace
    View of Falls from Pagoda
    View of Falls from Pagoda
    The Bridge
    The Bridge
    The Falls
    The Falls
    View of Falls Through Decorative Cutout in Bridge
    View of Falls Through Decorative Cutout in Bridge

    Perhaps the best part of our vacation was hanging out with Korean tourists. We are used to living and working among Korean people and Korean children and in general doing all the normal daily stuff right along side them.  Our days are made up of the uninspiring stuff that make up daily living, like taking out the trash, getting groceries, taking public transportation and paying bills at the ATM. But we got another glimpse of Korean people while on vacation – Korean people as tourists- and they are a blast. Especially the older folks, who are definitely out to have a good time (the odor of soju on their breath confirms that fact). We were approached several times by folks wanting us to take pictures of their groups. They always offered to take our picture as a return favor. Sometimes people would come up and start a conversation, never mind that we can’t speak the language. They kept talking and explaining things to us even when we gestured  our incomprehension. Really, there may be nothing more endearing in this world to me now than a tour group of vacationing older Korean women dressed in matching pink out to have a good.

    I spied one fellow in particular who was dressed elaborately, especially by Korean standards, hanging around the area offering to take pictures for tourists. Koreans are  quiet homogeneous and rather prefer things that way. I mean, they dress alike on purpose and stick together. However, this man was clearly an individual, and I tried several times to take his picture on the sly. None of them came out very well though. I’d given up when he came over and offered to take a photo of Gary and I – it’s the one at the heading of this blog post (it was his suggestion that we put our hands up in the air). After taking our picture, he voluntarily posed for a picture with Gary so even though my previous efforts at capturing his digital likeness was a failure, in the end I was granted the perfect opportunity. Here’s the pic:It’s Gary’s favorite pic of the batch.

  • The Earthquake Affair: Another Abecedarian Story by Chung Dahm Students (South Korea)

    Here is a story my Comp. 100 class and I composed using the exquisite corpse writing prompt our last night of class. Starting with the letter “A,” each new sentence must begin with the next letter in the alphabet. There must also be an attempt at cohesion in the story. All together, we composed four stories. This was voted as best. (Remember, these are middle school aged ESL students.) I’ve copied it verbatim here:

    Again and again the children asked their mother to push them on the swings. But their mother, her belly holding yet another child, shook her head, her face white. Children started to find out where their father had gone. Dad was in restaurant with his secret girlfriend. Every other day, he met this secret girlfriend for lunch at this favorite restaurant.

    “Father!” the children cried in unison when they saw him – one with a shocked face. Girlfriend also stared at the children and asked father “Is they are your kids? Why are they calling you father?”

    “Ha ha ha,” they are not my kids, they are kids who live in my town.”

    “I am your son! I am your first son,” the boy cried, his tears streaking his cheeks and rushed home.

    John, the first son, went home and surprised by strange man sit closely with mom.

    “Kelly, I really think you should tell your husband we’re dating. I mean, look at OUR baby!”

    “Listen to me, we can’t let anyone know about our love-child NOW!” Mom whispered and John the son hide behind the sofa, was so shocked that he cried

    “NO, it can’t be – Mom and dad BOTH can’t both be having an affair! “Oh my god, what did you mean that both me an your father having affair?” Mom shouted.

    “Please tell me it isn’t so!” she wailed. “Quickly, hide Luke!” she said to her boyfriend when she saw her husband coming.

    “Really, I can’t believe this situation! I heard all things! How can you have affair” said father.

    Suddenly the ground began to shake and rumble.

    To be continued…

    ——-

    We ran out of time before we ran out of alphabet. But we didn’t run out of fun!

  • Writing a Poem a Day

    Every April I celebrate National Poetry Month by reading lots of poetry, convincing other people to read lots of poetry and trying to get everyone to write a little poetry. I also follow the “Poem a Day” challenge, and this year, for the first time,  completed the challenge by writing thirty-five poems in thirty days.

    One trick to writing a poem a day, or writing anything on a daily basis for that matter, is to allow yourself to do it poorly. Because, integral to the creative process is failure and foolishness, hopefully of the playful kinds, and just generally coming to terms with the awkwardness of making something from nothing. It’s all “elbows and knees,” or in the case of writing, passive voice and too many adjectives. Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly, I also say, otherwise, expectations of perfection will interfere with the act of creation, a process that in and of itself is already perfect.

    With that said, let me admit that the poems I’ve drafted this month are all pretty crappy. They are unfinished, awkward, contain trite beginnings and contrived endings, tired images and many clichés.  But maybe, just maybe, there is a line or a poem’s worth of lines that will evolve into something publishable.

    For me, generating poetry to use for raw material is all about the “quantity = quality” equation, one that is still sneered at by many. Maybe for writers like Tolstoy, writing the perfect sentence or paragraph before moving on to the next is the best process, but I for one need the actual act of writing to get where I am writing too, and there is a lot of support for this belief. “Writing begets writing” my Graduate Fiction Writing instructor, Susan Rodgers, used to say. It takes a million words before you can publish, or earn, your fist novel, according to Randy Ingermanson. Obviously, for Chris Baty of the NaNoWriMo phenom, it’s about writing 50,000 words in thirty days for one month out of the year. Finally, according to a wiser author than I (whose name escapes me at the moment), you have to write through a lot of crap to get to the good stuff.

    But letting yourself write poorly is also about facing the blank page every day and consistently conquering it, “consistently” being the operative word there. That is, writing needs the same consideration as such daily self-care pursuits as eating, showering, and exercising (or meditating). In my life, writing must receive the same priority as a second job, especially necessary though doubly difficult since I am already employed full-time. As a second job, writing is difficult because its rewards are often delayed and are rarely monetary, its process often tedious, and its available time often gobbled up by greedy employers, needy people or insistent errands. But still I write, and still I fail to write, and still I fail when I write.  But the bottom line is, I write.

    But let me return to the topic of writing a poem a day in April and say that the best part of this year’s challenge is that after essentially forcing myself to write a poem every day is that it became easier to start. Similar to keeping a well primed, everything I saw or experienced had potential for a poem. And best of all was experiencing something akin to a runner’s high; moment when I felt like I could go on writing forever.

     

  • Children’s Day in South Korea (Auli Nal)

    Today is Children’s Day in S. Korea, a national holiday, and judging by the two-million people in Pyeongchon Central park today, a big holiday for families. (The number quoted in the previous sentence is an exaggeration – there is no way that many people would fit in PC Central Park. It’s simply meant to connote my surprise over the quantity of people in the park today. Hundreds of people would be a more accurate estimation.) A great number of these people were children.

    There where children in strollers, children on bicycles, children on roller blades, and children on skateboards. I guess you could say there were many children on wheels.

    Children not on wheels were involved with familial activities such as flying kites, catching balls or playing chase; this despite the limited number of square footage (meter-age) available per individual. Still more families could be seen sitting on blankets on the grass eating picnic lunches or just relaxing with their shoes off. One family appeared to have ordered their picnic food from a restaurant as I saw a man on a scooter delivering them their food. I can just imagine the directions they must have given over the cell phone when ordering: “Ah, yes, we will be the Korean family of  four on the green blanket in front of the blue tent right next to the croquet court.” Made me wish I could speak better Korean.

    I can’t imagine Americans celebrating children quite to this degree. In terms of scale and participation, today’s holiday  is more akin to the American Labor Day. Schools are closed for the week, parents take off from work and most acadamies and hagwons are closed, except of course, ChungDahm.

    Though many students did not attend class this evening, the ever vigilant instructors of ChungDahm English and Critical Thinking were on the front lines ready to deliver a little edu-tainment to any child who appeared. I took the stance that providing education for chlidren on Children’s Day is the ultimate in celebrating children. The students didn’t really buy it though.

    Fortunately, Kim ChungDahm, the fictional entity that makes all upopular rules and decisions at ChungDahm, allowed teachers to pass out candy suckers – a rare treat since we are normally strictly forbidden from giving students food. The irony of this gesture was not lost on the students. Nonthelsess, we were a little less hated as a result.

  • Photo Journal: Building 63, Seoul S. Korea

    Yook-Sam Buidling 63
    Yook-Sam Buidling 63

    In March, 2010, my friend Cereba and I spent a day at Building 63, also known as the Yook Sam building. It would be our last “girls day out” before her return home to the states. While it was windy, cool, and as you can tell from the photo, cloudy, we found plenty of fun things to do inside.

    Building 63 is a landmark skyscraper in the Seoul area built in 1988 for the Olympics and has, as you may have guessed, 63 stories. These 63 stories distinguished Yook-Sam as the tallest building in Seoul until 2003, when the Hyperion Tower was built. Then, in 2009, the Northeast Asian Trade Tower was “topped-off” and is currently considered the tallest building in Seoul.

    Building 63 features “The World’s Tallest Art Gallery” on its 60th floor, an aquarium, wax museum, Imax theater, and myriad shopping opportunities. On a clear day, you can see this golden tower from as far away as Incheon (though, there aren’t many clear days in Seoul).  According to wikipedia, “The 63 Building is an iconic landmark of the Miracle on the Han River, symbolizing the nation’s rapid economic achievement in the late 20th century. 63 refers to the building’s 63 official stories, of which 60 are above ground level and 3 are basement floors.

    After grabbing a bite to eat at one of the restaurants in the building’s food court, Cereba and I bought a “three-attraction pass” and headed for the aquarium. Being that is was a Saturday, the place was packed with families and children. In Korea, if you linger in any spot for more than a minute, a crowd will gather – so we tried to keep moving. I joked with Cereba that we should stand near something we did not really want to see, then as soon as a crowd gathered, dash over to whatever exhibit we were really interested in – at least until another crowd gathered.

    Aquariums are fascinating and seem fairly harmless to their inhabitants. I mean, fish don’t seem to care where they swim, and, I’ve hear, forget where they’ve been only seconds after being there. I was a little surprised, though, to find that the Building 63 aquarium features penguins, sea otters, and miscellaneous reptiles in addition to all forms of fish. The fellow pictured here is one of the featured exhibits. You can get a sense of how he feels about the whole situation.

    The penguins were cute, and seemed content to preen and groom themselves, and were particularly cute and had a pretty interesting set-up, including a number of glassed-in areas between which were suspended transparent tunnels in which they could scurry from one area to another – very entertaining for spectators. There was also a small cut-out in the barrier of the central exhibit where one could feed the otters small minnow-like fish from a nearby freshwater tank. The otters’ antics sometimes humorous, sometimes desperate.

    My favorite exhibits were the jellyfish and octopi, whose liquid movements are mesmerizing.

    After getting our fill of observing watery creatures, Cereba and I headed for the Sky Gallery on the 60th floor. We had to stand in line and take turns to ride the elevator in small groups. The elevator features an outward facing glass wall allowing passengers to enjoy the view while making their way upward.

    While there is a gallery on the 60th floor, it is the view from the 60th floor that is the most impressive thing about visiting. You can see all of Seoul from there and in every direction. While it wasn’t the clearest of days, the distant horizon was still discernible. As is always the case whenever I get a panoramic glance of Seoul, I was impressed and humbled by the size and density of the city.

    Pictured here are various apartment buildings, officetels, skyscrapers, office buildings, and different shots of the Hahn River. Very domino-esque.

    Cereba and I decided to take a rest at the coffee shop on the 60th floor and to enjoy the view in a leisurely fashion. I had a hot tea with milk and a bit of sugar while Cereba has a smoothie and a container of dippin’ dots. All around us there milled tourists, most of them Korean, but a few European and westerners too. And like at the aquarium, there were a lot of families. One little Korean girl, dressed cute as a play- doll (as all Korean children are) ordered some dippin’ dots too, but just after reaching her chair, she’d dropped the container. Little balls of dry-frozen vanilla and chocolate ice cream scattered all over the black marble floor and began melting almost immediately. The little girl’s eyes grew wide with astonishment, for it was quite a site to see, all those little balls rolling around on the shiny floor.  But she knew she had made a mistake too, so seemed unsure of how to react.  Fortunately,  the coffee counter clerk saw what had happened and came quickly with a pile of paper napkins to clean up the mess, and all was well.

    Cereba and I finished our beverages and decided to move on to the next attraction. We made sure to give our table to a group of three senior-aged eastern Europeans who were casting about for a place to sit. They were very gracious in accepting and we felt pretty good about offering.

    Last on our itinerary was the Wax Museum. Truly, wax museums are kind of cheesy, but they are a fun kind of cheesy and a good way to spend the afternoon with a good friend, and everything you do with a good friend is fun and interesting.

    Meeting Obama in Korea
    Meeting Obama in Korea

    When standing up close to a wax figure, it’s pretty obviously fake, but they are great for snapshots like this one. Except for the awkward hand gesture, this is a pretty convincing image of Obama – right?

    Anyway, we saw all kinds of campy portrayals of famous, semi-famous and downright obscure historical figures. One thing Cereba and I noticed about most of the figures, particularly those of western icons, is that their heads are a bit too large for their frames, and we wondered if this was intentional, or simply how Koreans see westerners.

    The highlight of our visit to the wax museum, however, was the “scary, haunted house” exhibit. We were eager enough to accept the invitation to see “scary exhibit” from the young Korean man promoting the attraction and thought it would be a real hoot.

    We entered the darkened area and immediately I commented on the fact that this is the kind of situation that begins many horror films – here we are, a couple of confident spectators underestimating the danger of the situation we have just entered.

    After a couple of mildly gruesome displays of wax figures being tortured and coming round a few dark corners, we came upon an exhibit that was an obvious set up. Upon the floor and lying across the path was a wax “corpse.” Near its feet a dummy sat in an electric chair. I came to a complete stop and pointed out the obvious set-up to Cereba. If we tried to jump over the corpse, I felt, the corpse would jump up and grab us. If, on the other hand, we walked around the corpse’s feet and near the dummy in the electric chair, the dummy, who I began to doubt was really a dummy at all and figured to be a real person, would be the one to grab us.  I didn’t like my choices, and in a flash had made the decision to run ahead without looking back – consequently leaving Cereba behind.

    What Cereba experienced, but I did not look back to see, was the dummy jolting briefly out of its electric chair to the accompaniment of a series of loud pops and bangs. I guess now we truly know the answer to the hypothetical question of what Lisa would do in the event of a zombie invasion (she would run like hell and not look back). Poor Cereba had been abandoned and had no idea where I had gone – and I had GONE.

    We both had a good laugh over the incident at the time, but got to laughing  even harder when we realized later that we were probably being watched from CCTV. The operators must have had a good laugh at us while choosing the exact right moment to trigger the dummy in the electric chair.  I wish we had a copy of that tape!

    So that was my last “girls day out” with my friend Cereba. Now she is back home in the states and I miss her very much and feel lonely without her. But, we will meet again when I get back home, and for that day I cannot wait!!

  • Letter from Anyang, South Korea: Missing America

    Lately I’ve been missing small-town life. Oh, not the small-mindedness and lack of vision that is often characteristic of living in small communities, but the simpler pleasures. Things like tulip festivals and poetry readings attended by the same five or six people at the neighborhood coffee shop. Maybe it’s a reaction to the rash of recent Face Book postings and photos of families engaged in family-type activities that are particularly suited for spring; or maybe it’s from living in a city that is more densely populated than anywhere I have lived before. In any event, with only four-and-a-half months to go on my teaching contract I am looking ever forward to setting my feet on familiar ground and living among familiar people.

  • How Chung Dahm Students Get their English Names

    Before my first day teaching at Chungdahm, I fully expected I would struggle with my students’ names, but as it turns out, most students use English names when attending English Academies. This was a relief  since Korean names can be really difficult to pronounce properly. In fact, all of my first term students used English monikers so I did not have to embarrass myself mispronouncing their names.

    Still, I noticed that a lot of students had rather unusual English names. Elvis, for example. I figured the kid just saw the name in some name book and liked it enough to use it as his own. I also figured he probably didn’t know a thing about the famous Elvis Presley of America, who is always the first person that comes to my mind when I hear the name Elvis. It seemed very likely to me that the other kids in the class would make fun of him if they new he shared a name with an American rock icon from the 50s. So,  I didn’t bother bringing it up.  I figured it didn’t really matter anyway, and certainly I didn’t want cause him any embarrassment. Besides, I further figured, what were the chances the matter would ever even come up in class?

    Well I’ll be damned if the last unit of the terms wasn’t “The Roots of Rock and Roll” and who did we talk about but none other than the King himself. My god, the poor kid, who was often the subject of teasing anyway, was harassed practically to death. Turns out the odds I had bet against where greater than I suspected, I guess.

    Other names that I have heard and wondered about include: Jelly, Chocolate, Cream, Drac,  Rooney, Jack Sparrow, June and some kid that names himself after a different letter of the alphabet each term.

    Most kids choose their own names, but often enough they are given their names by English teachers who don’t want to try and pronounce their Korean names, so arbitrarily name them. Sometimes it’s kind of obvious that the kids were in a class together when they were named because you’ll see a group of kids with names like Peter, Thomas, and Paul. Or Christina 1 and Christina 2.  Other times, as in the examples above, naming just seems random and thoughtless. I don’t know which was the case with Elvis.

    Since my first term, I have had several students who use their Korean names and I do my best to pronounce them correctly, with some success. The most difficult time I had with names was when I had Jung Huan and Yang Hawan in the same class. The pronunciation of their respective names have subtle, but important differences, which I was only able to appreciate after much tutoring from the students. Jung Huan sounds almost like John Juan, and Yang Hawan sounds similar to Young Ha – wan. I could just about pronounce them correctly by the end of the term.

    I have a few more new Korean names to learn this term, and I will probably butcher the heck out of them before I get remotely close. Fortunately, most students are patient, at least in my sight. The most surprising name so far this term, surprising in that is was unexpected rather than odd, is a girl named Eugene. I guess this is a rather common English name for Korean girls to take.

    So, If anyone out there ever finds themselves in a position of giving a student an English name, I implore you to do so with consideration.

    I mean, it seemed very likely that the other kids in the class would make fun of his name if they new he shared a name with an American rock icon from the 50s.