Tourism Time

With the combination of friends in town and new teachers to break in, I've had the chance to be a tourist in my own city again this past month. Most notably, this has manifested as a trip to the zoo and one to the War Memorial.

There are some weird things about an Asian zoo, but not many. I did feel a little too close to the animals, but never in an unsafe way. The exhibit of the Americas made me feel a little strange. The exoticism of what seems so ordinary in America puts into perspective just how far away I actually am. However, after multiple cages of wild dogs I can't take your zoo seriously anymore. Coyotes? Not zoo worthy. Racoons and possums? I've hit more with my car than your zoo can afford to import.

The War Memorial is a museum that I've always intended to go to but never gotten around to it. Although it contains them most comprehensive exhibit on the Korean War, it is situated near the army base in Itaewon rather than near the DMZ itself. Probably the most interesting feature was the extensive collection of air, land, and sea vehicles on the lawn, not to mention missiles and other large weapons. Both the outside and the inside of the building were adorned with various commemorative statues. There are two open-air wings of the museum dedicated strictly to the names of the countless soldiers who served during the war. The museum also goes to great lengths to recognize each and every one of the countries who helped secure South Korean independence, complete with videos of each nation's specific contributions to the cause. More than just a recount of the important battles, it was a very somber place, truly earning it the title of War Memorial.

Hokkaido

For my summer vacation, Hokkaido happened.  Hokkaido is the northernmost of the main islands in the Japanese archipelago, and it lived up to it's reputation amongst the Japanese people as the place to go for food.

For starters, I was lucky enough to go on this trip with a friend from college.  Thanks C.H. for coming all the way out to Korea!  When we arrived in Sapporo (like the beer), we didn't know any Japanese and we didn't have a place to stay.  Although Hokkaido is a very popular summer destination for travelers due to its temperate climate, we were fortunate to find it not too crowded.  We also soon realized that its popularity with tourists was in fact with nationals.  This fact became evident when not even our hotel spoke any English.

Inside of the city, there were several things to see, including a giant Panasonic clock styled like the Tokyo Tower and, of course, the Sapporo brewery.  We also toured a local sake factory.  The process is complicated!  We went to another old brewery that was converted into a mall, and we saw the Museum of Literature just off of Nakajima Park.

The city had a rich history, but lets be straight: this was a vacation for food.  Accordingly, as I prefer on my trips, there was non-stop eating.  Sushi all the time, some of the best shrimp I've ever had, crab legs, barbecue, grilled squid, okonomiyaki, street food, and mochi.  The pictures speak for themselves.

One of the best decisions we made was to take the train out of Sapporo and into the harbor town of Otaru.  From there, we took a ferry out and around the cape into a small town called Shukutsu.  It was a fantastic peek into the local culture (and flavor) of Hokkaido.  I want to live in this town when I'm old, fishing for squid and watching the fog roll in over the forest blanketed mountains.

Overall, a totally awesome summer break.  I think C had a great time in Korea too!  Open invitation to anyone who can get a ticket, as always...

The World Must Know the Truth

I have seen, done, and eaten some very strange things in my time here, but this is intolerably weird.  I ordered a Hawaiian pizza.  They put ham on it, and then instead of pineapple they decided to scatter the contents of a 4th grader's lunch box fruit cup on top.  Maraschino cherries and all.  Most disappointing pizza of my life.

World Cup Infiltrates the Classroom

Just found this on my camera when I was going through Hokkaido pictures (post inc).  Derek had promised his public school teacher he wouldn't erase that face paint mess until after the game that night at 3.  If Korea had won, he was going to shave all of his hair.

K-pop

Being that I teach primarily 4th-6th graders, I'm constantly inundated with and benefited by knowing a little something about the Korean popular music (K-pop) scene. I've also been here long enough to start seeing a shift in trends and an emergence of something new.

Korean music has, for as long as I've witnessed it, been characterized by excessive cuteness and feelings. As a whole, there is nothing in the mainstream outside of love ballads and dance music. Even the dance music has always been lyrically identical to the ballads, with only the addition of a Backstreet Boys style collective dance to go along with the beat. The whole "scene" is fairly shallow and unoriginal, to speak plainly (not to say that the American pop scene is any different, but just to characterize).

Lately, however, I have seen a shift in Korean music that has been noteworthy. There are three parts to this change. The first step was 2NE1. Whereas for ten years, the artists have dressed similarly and safely, 2NE1 brought a whole new style to the table. Since their introduction of vertical hair and outrageous outfits, the entire music industry has followed closely behind. Half the time they look like George of the Jungle should have watched out for that 5th Element. The pictures speak for themselves.

Debuting early last year, 2NE1 is certainly no longer a latest development. However, I think that their advent paved the wave for what was to come. What started as simply different clothes and attitude soon spread into the lyrical aspect of K-pop.  In the past several months there's been a shift from the typical, ballad style lyrics to a new format.  Korea, for some time now having been dominated by the girl group, has constantly been plagued with the same song to a different tune.  Either "omg I like him soooooo much.  what should I do?  my heart won't stop beating!" or "we broke up!  there's no one in my heart but you!  even now I can't stop thinking about you!" (sadly, the format barely differs when guy groups perform).  Lately, however, I've witnessed the emergence a new trend toward songs about women standing up for themselves, much in the style of Beyonce.  The prime examples of this would be the nearly simultaneous releases by groups SNSD, Kara, and now Lee Hyori, all of which saw the once cute-to-the-max take on a role with more independence, maturity, and substance.

This week I've seen what I hope to be the next step. Fairly new group f(x) releases their song NU ABO with positive reception. Blood type in Korea acts as a substitute for zodiac signs, predicting a person's personality and relationship compatibility. In 4 varieties, this uber-homogeneous society has summed up all personality possibilities. Finally, f(x) steps up to the plate and questions this "ABO" system, claiming that they are not A, AB, B, or O but in fact an entirely "Nu" blood type. In a country where sharing and following is a powerful cultural status quo, a dominant pop group is directly challenging the uniformity. High five to these girls for doing something original in K-pop (gasp!), though in my eyes they may just be a vessel for the build up I've been witnessing off and on for almost 5 years.



In completely related and yet still unrelated news, apparently the President has decided to use K-pop group 4minute as broadcast propaganda to the North?

International

Let's pretend I've opened a fancy coffee shop in a trendy area of town. I give it a mysterious and undecipherable name like, say, Coffee Break: Season 1. Then I set about decorating. It's very modern, all white and black. I'm a cutting edge coffee shop owner, you see. I don't want a cozy nook for Yeats fans. Oh no. I'm creating a cool hang out for the urban youth of a globalized city, one that they will frequent with the same regularity with which they view their television shows. I know my audience: they like an international atmosphere. One way to achieve this is through clocks on the wall with times from the major cities of the world. Something that draws the coffee-sippers mind to other modern and fast paced locales that I'm surely associated and familiar with.

The problem: only one of the cities I have chosen can anyone recognize as a legitimate city, much less an urban hub.

From left: Thimbu, Yerevan, Santiago, Praha, Accra

I know that "Praha" is how the Koreans pronounce and thus anglicize "Prague," and Accra is a city somewhere in Western Africa, but Thimbu is flat out made up.

***Thanks to some fast response from followers, we have a complete list of the 5 cities whose times coffee drinkers need to be aware of: Thimbu, Bhutan; Yerevan, Armenia; Santiago, Chile; Prague, Czech Republic; Accra, Ghana***

Tteokbokki

They say this is the next big push in the "Korean Culture Wave" or hallyu: Korean food to the world! I tried to make this particular dish at home today, and it was a delicious success.

Spicy, chewy tteokbokki is made with pieces of "tteok," which is basically rice that's been compacted into thick noodles. Korean mac'n'cheese?

Kim Yuna

Perhaps I missed the international blog wave by a few months, but this chronicle would be incomplete without an entry about Yuna Kim (henceforth to be referred to in the order I'm used to: Kim Yuna).

For the vast majority of Americans, Kim Yuna is a name we can't recognize, much less identify. She is the 19 year-old Korean girl who won gold in the Vancouver Winter Olympics, beating out her only slightly more well-known Japanese rival Mao Asada.

Kim Yuna (center) with Asada Mao (right) and some white chick

Kim is a national celebrity here like nothing I've ever seen.  Seoul is an extremely wired city, and gadgets are the name of the game.  More so than in the states, TV on the cell phone has really taken root here.  I happened to be out and about on the day that Kim Yuna was skating for the gold.  I saw cars pull over in the already unusually empty streets to watch the action on their cell phones.  Coffee shop employees had laptop wires running across the espresso machines: coffee stopped for the viewing of this program.  Bus drivers, while still keeping on their route, refused to be the only ones on the bus not watching a cell phone.  People clustered around TVs in windows, and everyone stopped talking.  The third largest city in the world literally stood still for 6 minutes of figure skating.

Some of the commercials featuring Kim Yuna

The popularity of Kim Yuna is twofold.  First, there's the enormous weight of being a country's sole representative to the international world.  Among Korean people, there are only maybe 4 who have achieved any measure of notoriety outside the peninsula.  UN Secretary General Ban Ki-mun, Manchester United team member Park Ji-Sung, and Korean pop star Rain (who has been part of a mock rivalry with comedy talk show host Stephen Colbert as well as star of several bad Hollywood movies) are the only other South Koreans that any one in the West has any real chance of knowing.  Aside from that, Korea is always burdened with its negative association to Kim Jung-Il as well as hidden in the cultural and economic shadow of its number one rival Japan.  Kim Yuna not only beat Mao Asada but also brings international attention to Korea, and therefore is practically royalty.

The other side of Kim's appeal is her personality.  In a country where some of the biggest stars have been cast aside because they became recognized for bragging, bad-mouthing, or womanizing, Kim Yuna has managed to charm the nation with her innocence and humility.  She is very respectful to the people who have helped her get this far and seems to disbelieve the success she's gotten.  She has tasteful and conservative outfits, and her "signature" 007 move has swept the nation.  The cynical American in me is quick to jump to the conclusion that she's just another pretty face, but Koreans will readily tell you that they don't think Kim Yuna is pretty at all.  "Her eyes are much smaller than Mao Asada's."


In her short lifespan, she's managed to not only win medals and set records, but also land some of the most sought after advertising spots. In Korea, there are not many people whose faces you'll see more often than Kim Yuna's. There's a permanent advertising slot left open for the hottest girl and boy groups of the moment, but nothing comes close to the mountain of sponsors heaped on this girl. She's the Korean face of Nike, top cell phone provider Anycall, Hyundai motors, Hausen air conditioners, Smoothie King, numerous makeup products, Samsung, school uniform company Ivy Club, those softening dryer sheet things, local bakery chain Tous Les Jours, a brand called Everyday Milk, Kookmin (citizens') Bank, and Whisper feminine products, to name what I can think of. You can basically see her everywhere you go, all of the time.

You can currently buy the Yuna "Be White" smoothie (not as racist as it sounds), the pink Yuna Haptic smart phone, or bite into the only bagel with a name branded on it. Can you think of another human in history who has been so idolized that their names were burnt into pastries?  Interesting fact about Kim Yuna: she's officially a student at Korea National University, though I can't imagine it's anything more than another advertisement.  How could she set foot on campus between the time constraints and the drooling fans?

The Importance of Commas

O-H-I-O

I am practically an honorary graduate of Ohio State University.

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.

"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!

Holy Crap When?

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.

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.

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...

24

Today was my star birthday (when you turn the same age as the day you were born), and it was a good one.  I was at first nonplussed by the idea of it all, especially since I've been "24" for the past year and that I had to go to a workshop all day yesterday. As it turns out, I am not yet of the age where every birthday is worse than the one prior.

To begin with, this workshop was out in the middle-of-nowhere's suburbs. By the time I got back Saturday night, I was so in the zone. I was on the elevator to my apartment, headphones in and totally rocking. I'd been travelling for an hour and a half and nothing was going to stop me then, in the home stretch. I come bobbin' down the hallway, inserting and turning my key in rhythm, and fling open the door to find the below.

At this point, the room is dark and I can't tell what is going on inside. My music is still blaring, so I can't even listen to hear if there's movement inside or not. I slide my hand along the right wall until it reaches the light switch. It would seem that at a certain age, one stops receiving birthday spankings and begins receiving birthday punkings. The room is a maze of toilet paper and laundry, strung up wall to wall. Someone has meticulously wrapped most of my possessions with aluminium foil (including dishes, furniture, and slices of American cheese). The furniture has been rearranged.

I stood spinning slowly in the centre of the room, dumbfounded and disoriented like a cat in a new house. Over the course of time I noticed smaller details like the disappearance of my laundry, the post-its that completely covered my mirror, or the pots and pans in the freezer. After 24 hours I believe everything has been discovered and corrected, including the shrink-wrapped shower head and toilet bowl.

While unwrapping, I got about 3 books in before realizing that everything had been replaced with chick-lit.

Lovingly and painstakingly done. I love it. Thanks to everyone for a kicking birthday that was full of surprises, delicious food, and fun.

My New English Vocabulary

I teach elementary English as a second language. I struggle daily to help children understand the nuances of the word take. Needless to say, I had consigned myself to a year of advanced English retreating. It is then an understandable surprise that I've noticed certain expansions in my vocabulary. Unfortunately, these words are not necessarily accepted or understood by the mainstream public. This is my first step in socializing the Konglish that has become such a part of my daily life.

Service
pronunciation: suh- as in 'suck'; -bee- as in the animal; -si as in the first syllable in 'swish' when we colloquially elongate it for effect

This one has been part of the repertoire for quite some time, but it's important to make the distinction. When Americans talk about the service at a particular restaurant, we are referring to a complex combination of server attitude, attention to detail, promptness, and overall dining experience. Korea takes a much more direct approach to the matter: service means free stuff. If I go to a restaurant and order, they will bring me a free cola. The waiter denoting that it is "service" is the social clue that I will not be charged for the Coke.

The practice does not stop at the dinner mint, however. If I get a fill up at a gas station, the attendant may give me a free packet of tissues for my car. "Service." If I'm at a karaoke room and I've paid for an hour but 30 more minutes magically appear on the clock, the monitor will inform me: "Service." If I pick up a prescription at the pharmacy and the clerk gives me a toothpaste sample, "service."

Consequently, this has made other imported phrases uncomfortable or impossible. "Self service," for example, because the awkwardly truncated and somewhat philosophical "Water is Self."

Hacking/Cunning
pronunciation: Heck-keeng and Cun-neeng

Hacking is of course the extremely 90's practice of infiltrating personal computer files and illicit programs, and cunning is the slightly less negative sly. A gerund and an adjective, respectively. In Korea, however, these words are synonymous. For that to be the case, they would also have to be identical parts of speech. In a true diplomatic fashion, they compromise and both become nouns. In Korean as well as in broken English, one literally "does hacking" or "does cunning."

This pair has been morphed to mean cheating. It is most predominant during quizzes when a student is taking a quiz and looks at a peer's paper. I have also seen it used in the context of a cheat sheet, or "cunning paper." There's a standardized test prep series called "TOEFL Hacking."

Interestingly, these terms do not apply for changing one's answers after grading (in which they simply label that student a "Sagee" or fraud) or for plagiarism (which they do not recognize as wrong on any level.)

Fishing
pronunciation: peesh-eeng

It's not a sport, unless you consider Ashton Kutcher's behavior on Punked to be athletic. In Korea, when you say something opposite of what you mean in order to fool someone, you follow the awkward silence that ensues with "I fished you," or simply "Fishing." It's greatly similar to phrases such as "I'm just pulling your chain," "Gotchya," or everyone's 1990's favorite "Psych."

Examples of fishing include, but are not limited to:
What's that on the ceiling? [nothing is on the ceiling] Fishing!

Teacher, I didn't bring my book today...I'm fishing!

I keep an extra refrigerator in my home to store the bodies. I just fished you!

A: You're fat!
B: You're mom's fat!
A: Not cool, my Mom's got breast cancer.
B: Dude, quit fishing me.

Happy Birthday

More appropriately, Happy New Year. However, in Korea at least and probably in other parts of the far east too, one's age is counted by the lunar calendar. Sort of. You see, although there will be no present giving or candle blowing until the actual date you traversed the birth canal, everyone in country is officially one year older on January first. So, since my 24th birthday is this year, you could safely assume that I am now 24.

But you'd be wrong. There's also this weird thing where you add one year. I'm not sure whether it's some hyperconservative life-begins-at-conception thing (wherein the math still doesn't make much sense for normal 9 month gestaters not to mention the premature) or if it's a way of counting the year you're about to live or what, but I was born in 1986, my birthday is the end of January, yet somehow I am "25" according to Korea. I guess in a culture where socially everything hinges on age, it sure is easier that we all make gains in that department at the exact same time. I also think this has suspiciously something to do with the fact the first semester of the school year starts now and not in the fall.

So, thanks Korea for adding 2 numbers to my mathematical age. Misery liking company, I implore you all to add 2 years to your age (1 if you're birthday was in the past 4 days) and contemplate how much you feel like you've just withered away.

새해 복 많이 받으세요.
(New Year's blessings many please receive.)

The End of B*Desh

DAYS 6 & 7: The End

Damn that coconut. Or one of my other indiscretions. I spent the whole night evacuating everything I've eaten thus far in every way my body knows how. We "woke up" at seven, myself completely empty and Imran (I now learn that I've had his name wrong from the beginning) with a migraine and lacking sleep as well, presumably from my symphonic indigestion.

We took a CNG to the anti-climactic Lawachara rain forest. Deep in past the tea and rubber plantations was a national park that promised primates, parrots, and panthers. Instead, it delivered little more than a bird that looked like a robin, a black squirrel, and an empty potato chip bag. There was, however, a rather soothing "rain" effect. The trees kept the temperature of the area low enough to form mist in the morning, so for the first couple hours of the day one could hear the dew falling from leaf to leaf.

On the way out we stopped at a pineapple field, where I picked my very own pineapple. We cut it up for lunch, though I could hardly enjoy it. After that, we started the long journey back to Dhaka. Imran insisted on trying to feed me or talk about the food we had eaten that could have led to my present condition. It did not help.

I drank a Sprite on the ride home, hoping the carbonation would be settling.

I slept delusionally but felt healthy in the morning. I hungrily ate the leftover nan I had been hording and got ready to return to Korea. The airport was more crowded than when I had arrived, masses of people huddled around the entrance to meet relatives returning from years abroad.

After an hour on the ground (there are only 4 other flights leaving Dhaka. This city is inexcusably disorganized.), I and the 4 infants surrounding me depart for our Bangkok layover. Who would've though I could have finished a 400 page novel already? This was a long flight with nothing but Thai folk songs and opera on the radio and E Inside Bollyywood on TV. Suvarnabhumi airport has even less to offer the traveler with 5 hours on his hands. It's good to be back home, where my bed is familiar and I recognize the pop music.

Thailand is so thoughtful. This would be weird in the states.

EPILOGUE
My overall feeling is emboldened, despite the freshness of the memory of illness. I took risks and survived, which is nothing short of courage boosting. Contrarily, I have also been reminded that not all places outside America would be modern and comfortable. Korea, Japan, and Hong Kong had lulled me into thinking that all foreign locales would be air conditioned and accessible, an illusion which Bangladesh quickly shattered. It will be quite some time before I venture as far off the beaten path as this again, of this I feel confident. Although, with every new trip my appetite for exploration is deepened rather than sated. I still am unsure of what new direction my adventure may lead me, but I am ever open to the challenge. I leave you with an outtakes of sorts.

The 10 Facts about B*Desh that Didn't Fit into the Stream of My Story

10. The #1 (and only recorded) hair/beard dye color of choice: Henna Orange
9. Only American song heard: You Belong with Me by Taylor Swift
8. Strangest Deformity: The man whose right arm couldn't grow muscles. No, the cab driver who had a third thumb. No! The guy at the park with a second nose in the middle of his forehead!!! I can't pick!
7. National Sport: Cricket. This is a very confusing sport.
6. The Best Car Seen: Mazda RX8 (shiny!)
5. The 2nd Best Car Seen: Toyota Corolla (it had both rear-view mirrors)
4. Most Interesting Thing Learned: Though we derive our number system from Arabic numerals, the look nothing alike.
3. Most Ridiculous Thing Seen: A cow giving birth in the street.
2. Saddest Beggar Ever: The 3 toddlers, each with their hair in pigtails and babies on their hips, followed by a toothless, one-eyed mother.
1. Most Dangerous Road Stunt: Our bus was passing two other buses on a two lane road. An oncoming CNG went all the way around the buses we were passing (off the shoulder of oncoming traffic's side of the road) to avoid being hit by our bus.

Into Hindustan

DAY 5: Sri Mongol

My honeymoon period of regularity ends as the food gets the best of me at last. I suppose garbanzo bean soup from a street vendor was simply asking for it. Although I had it coming, it can't be said that my condition made the following 3 hour bus journey comfortable for any party involved. It's also not discouraged me from another food packed day. You only live once, right?

At noon we arrived in Sri Mongol, a town that approaches the Indian border from another side. Sri Mongol is distinct from other places I've been so far in that it demonstrates an inversion of the typical 80% Muslim 15% Hindu makeup.

Lunch is rice with curried green beans and a fish fillet from something Imlan calls rui. Afterwards we enjoy a pastry, if that's what it can be called. Jilapi is batter, spiraled into fry oil and cooked, then marinated in honey. Not only is it covered in the orange-pink hued honey but the goo has seeped its way into the pockets created within the fried batter coils. It's the shovel for honey that french fries are for ketchup.

Our motorized rickshaw, or CNG (#6), took us into the Finlay tea fields. Imlan and I strode through the bushes and streams with a raw tea leaf in our front gum like it was chew tobacco. Unlike tobacco, the spit can be swallowed since you're only really making tea in your mouth. Even after fully removing all the bits of leaf, my mouth was still (quite literally) steeped in tea flavor.

We watched for cobras at all times, even when we passed out of the tea bushes and into the rubber tree fields. I observed what looked like watery Elmer's glue snaking down the carved trenches in the tree bark and dripping into collection cups. We finally reached an outpost at which I could drink some of this tea, having been comically layered liked a specialty alcoholic drink, black on white on red on oolong on green.

Later in the day, we rickshawed around the city area, me with coconut in hand. A local boy had hacked it open and popped in a straw. I sipped on coconut milk as Imlan and I strolled through a Hindu temple. On our way back into town we got the same boy to sever in two my then empty coconut. I scraped the minimal "meat" and ate it with part of the shell. It was like ectoplasm, but I finished it politely.

To be continued tomorrow...