Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Cherry Blossoms '10
It's almost spring again, and we set out on a weekend trip to see the cherry blossoms again (see last year's post).
We decided to make the trip a little differently than last year. No one had ever been to the East Sea (known to most of you by the fascist name 'Sea of Japan'), so we made out to the city of Gangneung.
Gangneung is well known for having the largest beach on the east coast of the peninsula, and the province that it's in is famous for various potato dishes that you can't find in Seoul. We hopped an early bus out of the city and struck out eastward.
The first stop was a farm for sheep raising. The weather hadn't let the grass come in fully yet (there was still snow and ice in some places! In April!!), but we had a fun time hiking around and feeding the stabled sheep.
I know I must have seen sheep up close at some point in my life, but I don't remember them being so shaggy. I'm not sure whether or not these were being fed, but they were quite ravenous. It was cool that the baskets of grass were free! That stuff would've cost three bucks a pop in the states, but Korea hasn't quite figured out that you can gouge tourists/theme-parkers/movie-goers at every turn and we'll still pay for it.
The next stop was lunch, which sadly did not include any of the unique potato dishes. Due to our proximity to the ocean, there were several great places for fish. In the end, we opted for the region's home-raised beef barbecue. Hanwoo is the name for beef that hasn't been imported, and they take a great deal of pride in their cows. This would have been really expensive in the city, but we got a great deal.
The main event turned out to be after lunch. The five of us rented a tandem bike for an hour and decided to take it around the lake. Actually, we decided to do a quarter of the lake and then turn around, but we made it all the way around in less than an hour!
The thing looks like a golf cart, and 4 people pedal at any given time. There are two steering wheels, but only one of them has any control thankfully. Around the back half of the lake is a series of statuettes that told a historical story, but we were going counter-clockwise around the lake, so the story would have been backwards (if we had known that it was a story at all). This was the whitest, most touristy moment I've had in Korea in a long time. We were a spectacle. All five of us had cameras out and were snapping pictures frantically. It was a Saturday afternoon and the lake path was filled with Korean families, couples, children, and other tour groups (the most notable of which were 30-odd college students all wearing the same white hoodie that said "LAKESIDE FLORIODAS" across the front).
To everyone whom we passed, we yelled "안녕하세요!" (Hello, how are you?) excitedly. I attempted to high five some of the other families on tandem bikes (as pictured below), with one success and one recoil. There was a girl who could not have been more than four years old who would have dropped her ice cream had she been holding one. She was terrified and slack jawed, and probably cried after we left without understanding why. Nonetheless, people who were older than her had said hello, so with her wide eyes and open mouth should reflex bowed like a good Korean child.
All in all, it was a total blast, even if we disturbed the peaceful lake-side walk of the locals. When it was over, we could barely walk. We had been pedaling so furiously since at what seemed to be halfway we came to the realization that we had to do the whole thing, but we had a bus to catch! We arrived in plenty of time though, and it was onward to our next destination.
Our last stop was a strawberry farm. We showed up and it all seemed really ghetto. There hadn't been much rain, the weather was cold, and the fields were not much to look at. However, after stepping inside the greenhouse structures we realized that it was a really nice operation. There was a short lecture (in Korean) about the strawberries, how they were grown, and the proper way to pick them.
We then got a chance to fill up a paper cup with fresh picked strawberries that also turned out to be organic. Without the chemical fertilizers or pesticides to worry about, we were allowed to eat them on the spot. The farm then gave us a packet of strawberries each to take home. Sunday morning: organic (practically) hand-picked, (practically) beach-side strawberries.
What was intended to be a trip to see the cherry blossoms on the beach turned out to be a trip to pick strawberries and feed sheep near a lake. but we had a great time anyways!
We decided to make the trip a little differently than last year. No one had ever been to the East Sea (known to most of you by the fascist name 'Sea of Japan'), so we made out to the city of Gangneung.
Gangneung is well known for having the largest beach on the east coast of the peninsula, and the province that it's in is famous for various potato dishes that you can't find in Seoul. We hopped an early bus out of the city and struck out eastward.
The first stop was a farm for sheep raising. The weather hadn't let the grass come in fully yet (there was still snow and ice in some places! In April!!), but we had a fun time hiking around and feeding the stabled sheep.
I know I must have seen sheep up close at some point in my life, but I don't remember them being so shaggy. I'm not sure whether or not these were being fed, but they were quite ravenous. It was cool that the baskets of grass were free! That stuff would've cost three bucks a pop in the states, but Korea hasn't quite figured out that you can gouge tourists/theme-parkers/movie-goers at every turn and we'll still pay for it.The next stop was lunch, which sadly did not include any of the unique potato dishes. Due to our proximity to the ocean, there were several great places for fish. In the end, we opted for the region's home-raised beef barbecue. Hanwoo is the name for beef that hasn't been imported, and they take a great deal of pride in their cows. This would have been really expensive in the city, but we got a great deal.
The main event turned out to be after lunch. The five of us rented a tandem bike for an hour and decided to take it around the lake. Actually, we decided to do a quarter of the lake and then turn around, but we made it all the way around in less than an hour!
The thing looks like a golf cart, and 4 people pedal at any given time. There are two steering wheels, but only one of them has any control thankfully. Around the back half of the lake is a series of statuettes that told a historical story, but we were going counter-clockwise around the lake, so the story would have been backwards (if we had known that it was a story at all). This was the whitest, most touristy moment I've had in Korea in a long time. We were a spectacle. All five of us had cameras out and were snapping pictures frantically. It was a Saturday afternoon and the lake path was filled with Korean families, couples, children, and other tour groups (the most notable of which were 30-odd college students all wearing the same white hoodie that said "LAKESIDE FLORIODAS" across the front).
To everyone whom we passed, we yelled "안녕하세요!" (Hello, how are you?) excitedly. I attempted to high five some of the other families on tandem bikes (as pictured below), with one success and one recoil. There was a girl who could not have been more than four years old who would have dropped her ice cream had she been holding one. She was terrified and slack jawed, and probably cried after we left without understanding why. Nonetheless, people who were older than her had said hello, so with her wide eyes and open mouth should reflex bowed like a good Korean child.
All in all, it was a total blast, even if we disturbed the peaceful lake-side walk of the locals. When it was over, we could barely walk. We had been pedaling so furiously since at what seemed to be halfway we came to the realization that we had to do the whole thing, but we had a bus to catch! We arrived in plenty of time though, and it was onward to our next destination.
"High five!"
Our last stop was a strawberry farm. We showed up and it all seemed really ghetto. There hadn't been much rain, the weather was cold, and the fields were not much to look at. However, after stepping inside the greenhouse structures we realized that it was a really nice operation. There was a short lecture (in Korean) about the strawberries, how they were grown, and the proper way to pick them.
We then got a chance to fill up a paper cup with fresh picked strawberries that also turned out to be organic. Without the chemical fertilizers or pesticides to worry about, we were allowed to eat them on the spot. The farm then gave us a packet of strawberries each to take home. Sunday morning: organic (practically) hand-picked, (practically) beach-side strawberries.
What was intended to be a trip to see the cherry blossoms on the beach turned out to be a trip to pick strawberries and feed sheep near a lake. but we had a great time anyways!
Costco
Many months ago I made one of the most important decisions any expat must make. The location of his unofficial embassy. It's not a decision that one can simply make, however. There are many factors, almost to the point of a mutual choosing of one another. For me, the bond was made with Costco.
Costco represents everything about America that can't be accessed anywhere outside its walls. Bulk discounts, most notably. If I buy a whole box of juice bottles as opposed to a juice bottle per day, the unit cost is identical! Logical but infuriating. Costco spares me that furor by once again restoring the natural order of things. Spending more money is the only way to save it.
Married to this idea is also that of excess. Sure, I may never use 100 packets of instant oatmeal without developing either an aversion or a digestive problem, but no other option is presented. You buy the whole salmon or you go home empty handed. Costco is perpetually super-sized, and I derive sick pleasure from enveloping myself in the security of such excess.
I can not overlook the comfortable familiarity of brand recognition either. Be it Head & Shoulders, George Foreman, Swiss Miss, or straight up Kirkland, Costco offers all the props necessary for recreating the authentic illusion of home. It also offers me my most coveted food item: cheese, the subject of many a nostalgic blog post to date. Not just pre-sliced, individually wrapped "cheese," but blocks of cheese in cheddar or jack, tubs of feta, wheels of brie, even little sacks of La Vache Qui Rit whole milk mozzarella are available to the man willing to cough up the won. Coupled with this cheese is a variety of breads. Wheat, bagel, croissant, muffin: it's everything I could ever hope for.
Lastly, Costco's food court is identical to that of any Costco I've ever been in. The pizza is greasy, the hot dogs are cheap. Even Koreans will tell you that this is the best part about Costco, but of course they manage to confuse their priorities even in this. Every single Korean at the food court, without exception, makes a kimchi-substitute side dish to go with their food. They grind a fresh plate full of raw onions, squeeze out a package of relish, juice it all up with copious amounts of ketchup and mustard, and stir. This condiment "salad" is to be enjoyed with a spoon. Although it looks like vomit, I refuse to allow it to ruin my experience. However, I can't quite understand how an entire nation could be so crazy for spoonfuls of ketchup and raw onion.
Costco represents everything about America that can't be accessed anywhere outside its walls. Bulk discounts, most notably. If I buy a whole box of juice bottles as opposed to a juice bottle per day, the unit cost is identical! Logical but infuriating. Costco spares me that furor by once again restoring the natural order of things. Spending more money is the only way to save it.
Lastly, Costco's food court is identical to that of any Costco I've ever been in. The pizza is greasy, the hot dogs are cheap. Even Koreans will tell you that this is the best part about Costco, but of course they manage to confuse their priorities even in this. Every single Korean at the food court, without exception, makes a kimchi-substitute side dish to go with their food. They grind a fresh plate full of raw onions, squeeze out a package of relish, juice it all up with copious amounts of ketchup and mustard, and stir. This condiment "salad" is to be enjoyed with a spoon. Although it looks like vomit, I refuse to allow it to ruin my experience. However, I can't quite understand how an entire nation could be so crazy for spoonfuls of ketchup and raw onion.
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
My Hobby: Naming
Over the past year, I've had the unique opportunity to name children. Most people only get that opportunity 2-3 times in their life, but I'm here with hundreds of Minhyeoks and Jiyoungs and they all need names.
The benefit of this kind of freedom is the opportunity to make mistakes. Whereas I would never name my own child Phineas or Dexter, here I have the opportunity to test drive without having to buy.
The obsession stems partly from the fact that all of the students who choose their own names select the same, tawdry names that end in -y. Harry, Jenny, Tommy, Julie, Sally, Christie, and Ellie. Then there's the just bland names like Bill, Ryan, Eric, Chris, Sarah, and Grace (which gets particularly old because the Korean word for grace is a popular name here so they all just translate it).
Most annoying of all is June. In every class there is at least one June/Jun/Joon. The difference is that this child is exclusively male. Since many male Korean names include the syllable joon and they all know that June is an existing English name, they take the easy road. Surprisingly, no one has ever explained to them that June is, like all names from months, seasons, or plants, reserved for women.
It is expressly because of the Junes that I've adopted my interesting names hobby, though it may have started as a cruel joke. One of the things that is pretty consistent across the Junes (as well as other students who refuse to choose an English name) is that their resistance, laziness, and apathy usually extends further than just their lack of name choice. Often times these students become the problems of the classroom. As a type of passive-aggressive rebellion, I began naming these imps with English names that other children didn't have because Koreans find them difficult to pronounce. Valerie and Charles, for example, have both l and r juxtaposed, which Koreans find next to impossible.
The practice soon spread, however, and became an intra-office competition to give students the most outlandish names. From this period Tank and Blackhole were born. Finally we come to rest at the current situation. Select members of the office have joined my crusade to rid the school of Junes and increase the variety of names among students. Having come from a country where I'm used to international classrooms and jobs, I'm tired of the seas of identically named students. I miss going to school with Alfredo and Sauna, working with Juanito and Magno. We're starting more humbly (Douglas, Eve, Felicia, and Clive to date), but I've got a list and I'm passing out more original names.
If you have suggestions for a child's name, just add a comment. Think of it as adopting an African child but without the dollar a month. I'll even send you a picture of the child with your name.
The benefit of this kind of freedom is the opportunity to make mistakes. Whereas I would never name my own child Phineas or Dexter, here I have the opportunity to test drive without having to buy.
The obsession stems partly from the fact that all of the students who choose their own names select the same, tawdry names that end in -y. Harry, Jenny, Tommy, Julie, Sally, Christie, and Ellie. Then there's the just bland names like Bill, Ryan, Eric, Chris, Sarah, and Grace (which gets particularly old because the Korean word for grace is a popular name here so they all just translate it).
Most annoying of all is June. In every class there is at least one June/Jun/Joon. The difference is that this child is exclusively male. Since many male Korean names include the syllable joon and they all know that June is an existing English name, they take the easy road. Surprisingly, no one has ever explained to them that June is, like all names from months, seasons, or plants, reserved for women.
It is expressly because of the Junes that I've adopted my interesting names hobby, though it may have started as a cruel joke. One of the things that is pretty consistent across the Junes (as well as other students who refuse to choose an English name) is that their resistance, laziness, and apathy usually extends further than just their lack of name choice. Often times these students become the problems of the classroom. As a type of passive-aggressive rebellion, I began naming these imps with English names that other children didn't have because Koreans find them difficult to pronounce. Valerie and Charles, for example, have both l and r juxtaposed, which Koreans find next to impossible.
The practice soon spread, however, and became an intra-office competition to give students the most outlandish names. From this period Tank and Blackhole were born. Finally we come to rest at the current situation. Select members of the office have joined my crusade to rid the school of Junes and increase the variety of names among students. Having come from a country where I'm used to international classrooms and jobs, I'm tired of the seas of identically named students. I miss going to school with Alfredo and Sauna, working with Juanito and Magno. We're starting more humbly (Douglas, Eve, Felicia, and Clive to date), but I've got a list and I'm passing out more original names.
If you have suggestions for a child's name, just add a comment. Think of it as adopting an African child but without the dollar a month. I'll even send you a picture of the child with your name.
Friday, April 02, 2010
Girl Scouts
I just want to say that while all of you people are buying your Thin Mints and gorging on Samosas, I'm in Korea where there are Girls Scouts but they don't sell any cookies. What is even the point. Now I have to look at my students in their taunting little uniforms and be constantly reminded how much I want to drop 30 dollars on a week's supply of Tagalongs but I don't even have the opportunity. On the bright side there's always barbecue...
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