I shaved my legs today for the first time in 99 days. They look alien now, hairless and white. I thought afterwards I should have done something cool—shaved a lightning bolt, perhaps, or some other artistic flare—but it’s too late now. I’ll have to wait another 99 days to get creative with leg hair. Now I’m beach-friendly, but I can’t help feeling I made a supreme concession to superficiality. Perhaps I need to burn a bra now.
Tomorrow I leave. Finally. I think I am prepared, but I am sure I will think of things I should have packed for the next two months. Ah, well…this is just practice for packing next year, when I’ll be on the road for five whole months! Honestly, I am a little nervous about the trip. It’s a long time to be away, traveling, adventuring…I hope I’m up for it. Mostly I hope Nika doesn’t regret taking me on as a travel buddy.
School was pretty anticlimactic today. I bribed the kids with candy for an hour and a half, met with the principal, and darted away when everyone else was in class. I hate goodbyes; plus, I wanted out of that place. I’m so sick of teaching, so sick of forcing my will on wily youngsters, so sick of bowing with a smile administration. Yes, of course I will spend my afternoon teaching English while you all go out and drink! Yes, of course our students are brilliant! I have no problems! I am not much of a cultural ambassador these days. At least, not at school, where my farewell gift was….more work. No joke. I told my co-teacher when I’d be back (February 16), and she gasped in soap dramatic fashion. “But February 11 is our school opening day! I told you!” Well, sure, she told me the students had finals that week—why they torture them with a week of extra school in the middle of vacation, I’ll never understand, but it didn’t concern me, I thought. I’m obligated to do winter classes, but absolutely no more. Apparently my loving administration was convinced I’d come back as well to teach an extra four days—as my co-teacher put it, “You CAN come back and teach!” Oh goodie. Too bad I have plane tickets, fun suckers! Too bad you take horrible advantage of me, only to give me what I’m originally supposed to have after a painful war of words and expect me to be grateful. I’m only exasperated. I realize they have a different mindset about work, but honestly—when I get about the quarter the pay of other teachers, can’t I expect some leniency? Especially when they want me to sign on for another year? This is still probably the best job I’ll have for years to come, but the fact that it could be better is mildly irritating. Good thing I have a long break to work out my frustration. Aaaaaaaack.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Countdown
One day. Two classes. I can’t wait.
It’ll be another bs lesson for my sixth graders. With the expectation that many classes at the end of the semester would be canceled, in combination with pure laziness, I haven’t gotten around to planning any real lessons for them for a few weeks now. It’s hard to be motivated to teach them, when nothing I do is effective, anyway. Half of the kids already know what I teach and are bored out of their minds, and half of them have no clue what I’m talking about. Either way, they talk, throw erasers at each other, and generally ignore me. So I’ve been taking the easy way out—praying for last-minute cancellations and winging it. Tomorrow we’re playing Bingo. I’ll have to invest in candy, but it’s worth it. We’ll both be happy.
And then it’s goodbye! Goodbye to Hongsan Elementary for two months, goodbye to the sixth graders FOREVER. All I feel is relief. I might be the most unsentimental person I know. I’m DEFINITELY the most unsentimental person on the peninsula.
Tonight we had dinner with the parents. These dinners out are getting really dull for me. I just sit in a corner, eat a TON, and mull over things. Everyone talks about me like I’m an idiot—sure, I’m not great in Korean, but I can understand my own name even when you say it in a Korean accent, fools—and I just sit and sigh. It’s a chore. Tonight I had to stand awkwardly in the middle of a drafty room while the principal droned on and on in his tiresome monotone and sixty people stared at me intently. It was very disconcerting. It was all I could do to mutter thanks and scurry away. I hate the spotlight. It’s the worst part of being a teacher—you’re always performing, always speaking, always at the center. Especially in a foreign language classroom.
I’ve been feeling really negative about my classroom experiences lately. I am sure now that the kids are learning English in their regular classrooms, which just makes my class superfluous and silly, and on top of that, I’m becoming increasingly doubtful that they actually understand anything I’m teaching them. Their recollection during the review activities this week was less than spectacular. I think I’m doing well enough with, say, first grade. But at the upper levels, I’m at a loss. Maybe I’ve become too focused on conversation and it’s become too much drilling without much comprehension. I don’t know. I’ve been a little embarrassed, even, among the other teachers—I feel that they know now I am a joke. But apparently not, since some of the parents told me I was the hero of Hongsan and the principal asked me to stay another year. There’s not a chance in a billion that I will, but I’m glad my employers don’t yet realize how worthless I am. Or maybe they do and they are just too polite to say it. This is the most difficult part of Korean culture for me—I take everything they say at face value and forget that many things are only said to flatter others. Not that this doesn’t happen in America, too, but at least I can understand the words, even if the body language is still beyond me. Subtlety and grace are not in me.
It’ll be another bs lesson for my sixth graders. With the expectation that many classes at the end of the semester would be canceled, in combination with pure laziness, I haven’t gotten around to planning any real lessons for them for a few weeks now. It’s hard to be motivated to teach them, when nothing I do is effective, anyway. Half of the kids already know what I teach and are bored out of their minds, and half of them have no clue what I’m talking about. Either way, they talk, throw erasers at each other, and generally ignore me. So I’ve been taking the easy way out—praying for last-minute cancellations and winging it. Tomorrow we’re playing Bingo. I’ll have to invest in candy, but it’s worth it. We’ll both be happy.
And then it’s goodbye! Goodbye to Hongsan Elementary for two months, goodbye to the sixth graders FOREVER. All I feel is relief. I might be the most unsentimental person I know. I’m DEFINITELY the most unsentimental person on the peninsula.
Tonight we had dinner with the parents. These dinners out are getting really dull for me. I just sit in a corner, eat a TON, and mull over things. Everyone talks about me like I’m an idiot—sure, I’m not great in Korean, but I can understand my own name even when you say it in a Korean accent, fools—and I just sit and sigh. It’s a chore. Tonight I had to stand awkwardly in the middle of a drafty room while the principal droned on and on in his tiresome monotone and sixty people stared at me intently. It was very disconcerting. It was all I could do to mutter thanks and scurry away. I hate the spotlight. It’s the worst part of being a teacher—you’re always performing, always speaking, always at the center. Especially in a foreign language classroom.
I’ve been feeling really negative about my classroom experiences lately. I am sure now that the kids are learning English in their regular classrooms, which just makes my class superfluous and silly, and on top of that, I’m becoming increasingly doubtful that they actually understand anything I’m teaching them. Their recollection during the review activities this week was less than spectacular. I think I’m doing well enough with, say, first grade. But at the upper levels, I’m at a loss. Maybe I’ve become too focused on conversation and it’s become too much drilling without much comprehension. I don’t know. I’ve been a little embarrassed, even, among the other teachers—I feel that they know now I am a joke. But apparently not, since some of the parents told me I was the hero of Hongsan and the principal asked me to stay another year. There’s not a chance in a billion that I will, but I’m glad my employers don’t yet realize how worthless I am. Or maybe they do and they are just too polite to say it. This is the most difficult part of Korean culture for me—I take everything they say at face value and forget that many things are only said to flatter others. Not that this doesn’t happen in America, too, but at least I can understand the words, even if the body language is still beyond me. Subtlety and grace are not in me.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
It's Daejeon!
Each major city in Korea has a slogan, and this is Daejeon’s. I hope it makes more sense in Korean, because in English, it just sounds silly. Even “Colorful Daegu” is better.
I went to Daejeon today for a movie and dinner with Janaki and Colleen. It was a really nice day, even if it seemed short with four hours of buses. The Golden Compass was good, which really pleased me because I adore the book and I was afraid the movie would destroy it. It definitely paled in comparison, at least in terms of complexity (movies all too often dumb things down, in my opinion), but it was pretty faithful to the plot and it certainly was exciting to see all the action played out on the big screen. I want to read the book again now…it really is a masterpiece, raising such interesting ethical and spiritual questions about authoritarianism and freedom of thought and act and other intricacies of what it means to be human that I can’t even clearly articulate within a very imaginative and fantastic plot. I haven’t seen a movie in so long, too—it was a great way to break the drought!
We dined at my favorite mushroom restaurant and it was stupendous, as always. I think they got a little sick of us, though…we were there at least two hours, eating and chatting and laughing. I find that hearing a foreign language often annoys people—we might talk at the same level, but we get dirty looks. I guess it’s because it just sounds like a bunch of noise to Koreans. I caught some eyes at the restaurant. Still, it was nice. It’s weird that I won’t see Janaki and Colleen for so long. They’re both going home this weekend and we probably won’t meet again until March. That is, unless I convince them to come to Taiwan. I’m hopeful.
I went to Daejeon today for a movie and dinner with Janaki and Colleen. It was a really nice day, even if it seemed short with four hours of buses. The Golden Compass was good, which really pleased me because I adore the book and I was afraid the movie would destroy it. It definitely paled in comparison, at least in terms of complexity (movies all too often dumb things down, in my opinion), but it was pretty faithful to the plot and it certainly was exciting to see all the action played out on the big screen. I want to read the book again now…it really is a masterpiece, raising such interesting ethical and spiritual questions about authoritarianism and freedom of thought and act and other intricacies of what it means to be human that I can’t even clearly articulate within a very imaginative and fantastic plot. I haven’t seen a movie in so long, too—it was a great way to break the drought!
We dined at my favorite mushroom restaurant and it was stupendous, as always. I think they got a little sick of us, though…we were there at least two hours, eating and chatting and laughing. I find that hearing a foreign language often annoys people—we might talk at the same level, but we get dirty looks. I guess it’s because it just sounds like a bunch of noise to Koreans. I caught some eyes at the restaurant. Still, it was nice. It’s weird that I won’t see Janaki and Colleen for so long. They’re both going home this weekend and we probably won’t meet again until March. That is, unless I convince them to come to Taiwan. I’m hopeful.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
How do you say "Merry Christmas" in English?
Today I let my kids decorate Christmas cards. I fool myself into thinking it’s English practice: all they do is color the letters “Merry Christmas” and fill in the “To” and “From” blanks. And still one of my first graders asks me how you say Merry Christmas in English (they say the same thing, in a Korean accent, in Korean). Man, I am an amazingly effective teacher. It’s funny to see how the kids change over the years—the first graders all wrote to either mom, dad, or mom and dad, the fourth graders almost all wrote to their parents (one, inexplicably, wanted to write to Jack Sparrow…), about half of the fifth graders wrote to their parents and half wrote to friends, and almost all the sixth graders wrote to their friends. Guess it’s not “cool” at their age to communicate with or make anything for Mom and Dad. I wonder if they even give their cards to their friends or just throw them away. Not that I care, really…they get to have fun for forty minutes, and I get a chance to relax for once. Only two more days. Seven more classes.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Woraksan Weekend
3 days. 11 classes. I cannot wait to be free. Nothing I do pleases any more. I showed a MOVIE today, for the first time ever, and even that was deemed chaemiopsoyo (boring). Which only makes me determined to show them what boring REALLY is. They are so lucky that they won’t see me again!!!
Last weekend was nice, but draining. These weekends away take their toll, especially when I am alone and going to obscure, out-of-the-way places. I’m left with far too many hours in which to entertain myself, and far too much travel confusion. It’ll be nice to pair up with a buddy again!
It took me all afternoon Friday to reach the park. I arrived just in time to see the sun set—meaning, five hours to kill in a small room enveloped by cold and dark. I managed to finish Gandhi, research Thailand, watch two programs on Korea, and knit a mitten. It was great fun.
On Saturday morning, I woke up to an unexpected blanket of white. It just didn’t occur to me that it would snow. Rain, yes—I even packed my umbrella. But snow? I’ve never seen what I would deem the real thing here…until then. Usually it’s gone in a couple hours, if it even sticks. But not this. And the snow kept falling intermittently all morning. It was beautiful, but I was ill-equipped—no snow footgear, no gloves, no snowpants…still, I was determined to hike as planned. And for a long time, I was the only one, besides some wild animal whose tracks I couldn’t identify (exciting news, this—I’ve only ever seen squirrels in the Korean wild before, despite my co-teacher’s warning that I shouldn’t hike alone because the animals could be dangerous). It was tough going—it was icy, steep, and wet—but I entertained no thoughts of giving up. Instead, I reveled the absolute pristine silence. Snow seems to suck in all sound, to muffle all thoughts, to cleanse, even. Falling snow is a beautiful experience. And so I let it draw me to the top, the snow-whipped pinnacle of the park.
Silence slowly died on the way down, though. Slowly the Koreans filtered their way through the park. First there were twos, wandering amidst the silence, then there were bigger groups, and finally joviality and soju won out. It was nice to have a little company, though—they broke the path for me and gave my spirits a bit of a boost. I was a little worried, up in the snow unprepared as I was. I think they were worried about me, too. Or disdainful, the same way I am of novice skiers—the ones who hit the slopes so obviously, but obliviously, underprepared. One guy gave me an extra set of crampons, though, which were fun to clang on the rocks. I didn’t really need them anymore, but now I have them for future hikes. (Hopefully soon I’ll have TWO mittens, too!)
By the time I got to the bottom, I was tired and soaked. It had been really slow going through all the ice and all I wanted to do was hit the nearby sauna for a soak. It’s supposedly the best hot springs area in Korea. However, there were no buses at this village, even though it was the main entrance to the park. I felt so defeated. I’d have to go back to the main town, an hour away, and catch another bus back out to the hot springs, even though the hot springs couldn’t have been more than 20 kilometers away! And even more, I’d have to walk to the nearest bus stop (the village where I started, 3 kilometers away) and wait for one of the infrequent buses that came there! I needed some mountain food to bolster my spirits.
I had potato pancakes at a nearby restaurant and knit away for an hour, waiting for the next bus at 5 pm. It was actually really nice there…the older man sat in the corner of the store, playing computer games, while the woman and I sat on the ondol and did little feminine things—she mended and I knit. I felt like I had stepped back in time—whiling away the winter hours in little domestic chores.
By the time I reached Chungju, the big nearby town, I was exhausted. I decided it was time to head back home, rather than brave the bus system. I was stranded in Daejeon, but no matter—I’d just watch movies, sleep in, and do some urban hiking/fruit shopping on Sunday. It was not what I envisioned for my weekend, but it was nice. I’ve been going so hard…relaxing in the city was a good change. It was not quite so picturesque, but I did have some good persimmons and kyul and I treated myself to pizza at Costco.
It’s strange that this was my last weekend in Korea for the year. I can’t believe I’m leaving so soon, and for so long! I feel a little stressed, tying up all the loose ends before I leave for two months. There are so many little things to do—wrap up all my letter-writing, finish the books I’ve been reading about India, charge all my electronics, do laundry, pack and repack, write emails, keep this journal up-to-date, research the places I’m going…and I’m going away on Wednesday again, too. It’s election day in Korea, which means a day off. So I’m heading back to Daejeon to see a movie and go out to dinner with friends. It should be nice, but it means still more time away from home. Sigh. I guess I’m still a homebody at heart, no matter how much I try to deny it.
Last weekend was nice, but draining. These weekends away take their toll, especially when I am alone and going to obscure, out-of-the-way places. I’m left with far too many hours in which to entertain myself, and far too much travel confusion. It’ll be nice to pair up with a buddy again!
It took me all afternoon Friday to reach the park. I arrived just in time to see the sun set—meaning, five hours to kill in a small room enveloped by cold and dark. I managed to finish Gandhi, research Thailand, watch two programs on Korea, and knit a mitten. It was great fun.
On Saturday morning, I woke up to an unexpected blanket of white. It just didn’t occur to me that it would snow. Rain, yes—I even packed my umbrella. But snow? I’ve never seen what I would deem the real thing here…until then. Usually it’s gone in a couple hours, if it even sticks. But not this. And the snow kept falling intermittently all morning. It was beautiful, but I was ill-equipped—no snow footgear, no gloves, no snowpants…still, I was determined to hike as planned. And for a long time, I was the only one, besides some wild animal whose tracks I couldn’t identify (exciting news, this—I’ve only ever seen squirrels in the Korean wild before, despite my co-teacher’s warning that I shouldn’t hike alone because the animals could be dangerous). It was tough going—it was icy, steep, and wet—but I entertained no thoughts of giving up. Instead, I reveled the absolute pristine silence. Snow seems to suck in all sound, to muffle all thoughts, to cleanse, even. Falling snow is a beautiful experience. And so I let it draw me to the top, the snow-whipped pinnacle of the park.
Silence slowly died on the way down, though. Slowly the Koreans filtered their way through the park. First there were twos, wandering amidst the silence, then there were bigger groups, and finally joviality and soju won out. It was nice to have a little company, though—they broke the path for me and gave my spirits a bit of a boost. I was a little worried, up in the snow unprepared as I was. I think they were worried about me, too. Or disdainful, the same way I am of novice skiers—the ones who hit the slopes so obviously, but obliviously, underprepared. One guy gave me an extra set of crampons, though, which were fun to clang on the rocks. I didn’t really need them anymore, but now I have them for future hikes. (Hopefully soon I’ll have TWO mittens, too!)
By the time I got to the bottom, I was tired and soaked. It had been really slow going through all the ice and all I wanted to do was hit the nearby sauna for a soak. It’s supposedly the best hot springs area in Korea. However, there were no buses at this village, even though it was the main entrance to the park. I felt so defeated. I’d have to go back to the main town, an hour away, and catch another bus back out to the hot springs, even though the hot springs couldn’t have been more than 20 kilometers away! And even more, I’d have to walk to the nearest bus stop (the village where I started, 3 kilometers away) and wait for one of the infrequent buses that came there! I needed some mountain food to bolster my spirits.
I had potato pancakes at a nearby restaurant and knit away for an hour, waiting for the next bus at 5 pm. It was actually really nice there…the older man sat in the corner of the store, playing computer games, while the woman and I sat on the ondol and did little feminine things—she mended and I knit. I felt like I had stepped back in time—whiling away the winter hours in little domestic chores.
By the time I reached Chungju, the big nearby town, I was exhausted. I decided it was time to head back home, rather than brave the bus system. I was stranded in Daejeon, but no matter—I’d just watch movies, sleep in, and do some urban hiking/fruit shopping on Sunday. It was not what I envisioned for my weekend, but it was nice. I’ve been going so hard…relaxing in the city was a good change. It was not quite so picturesque, but I did have some good persimmons and kyul and I treated myself to pizza at Costco.
It’s strange that this was my last weekend in Korea for the year. I can’t believe I’m leaving so soon, and for so long! I feel a little stressed, tying up all the loose ends before I leave for two months. There are so many little things to do—wrap up all my letter-writing, finish the books I’ve been reading about India, charge all my electronics, do laundry, pack and repack, write emails, keep this journal up-to-date, research the places I’m going…and I’m going away on Wednesday again, too. It’s election day in Korea, which means a day off. So I’m heading back to Daejeon to see a movie and go out to dinner with friends. It should be nice, but it means still more time away from home. Sigh. I guess I’m still a homebody at heart, no matter how much I try to deny it.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
On Being Gentle
I’m just beginning to realize the beauty of Gandhi’s ideas. I’ve always known about the nonviolence aspect, of course, and always admired that—after all, how many people actually support violence in principle?—but I never knew much about his philosophies beyond that. And nonviolence always seemed like wishful thinking to me, too. It just invites people to take advantage of you in the real world.
Or so cynical me thought. Reading about Gandhi’s experiences, however, painted a far more hopeful picture. When victims refuse to fight back, their aggressors are shamed and generally treat them more kindly. The cycle of violence is forever escalating…we respond to violence with violence, which spans still more violence…to break this, we need more people who will respond with gentleness and smiles. It might seem weak and cowardly and even overly optimistic, but I think this is the only way we can respond: to swallow insults with laughter, to turn the other cheek, to be what we want to see in the world, and all those other clichés. They are clichéd because they are true. We have simply become so used to a world of violence that any alternative seems unfeasible. But societal changes will never happen until we ourselves decide to change, thus drastically opening the field of the possible. Why do we harbor such cynicism and doubt about the goodness of human nature? We need only live the best we can, without bothering about what others do or what we receive in return. My guess is that we’d see a lot more goodness and hope. It just takes that courageous first step, to live without fear and hate and respond to them both with calm and understanding.
And herein lies the most interesting point: in doing so, we can create a situation in which everyone wins. In a world ruled by passion and aggression, there are always winners and losers. We create diametrically opposed positions in which there can really only be one winner, thus creating more resentment and feelings of alienation and rage. By removing the passion, by truly attempting to understand each other, we can see beyond the issues to people, to begin to compromise in the interests of all. We are too quick to the defense, always hording what is ours and guarding it jealously, that we cease to see others through the lens of empathy. We see only forces at work in conjunction against us. This is no way to live: in fear and jealousy, quick to vengeance and slow to trust. And we cannot wait for society to change, for the world to become a trusting, loving place. WE must change. WE must work to create situations where everyone can win. WE must work to weed out violence. WE must open the field of the possible and create a dramatically different vision of what humanity is capable of. And this begins in each one of us. It is difficult to throw away all these automatic but ultimately detrimental impulses—selfishness, anger, and envy among them—but it must be done. At the very least, we will be better people for it. And at best, it will lead others to reexamine their lives in a similar light.
It is certainly true that humans are capable of terrible things, but this need not define us. We are also capable of great good and every one of us must sincerely step up to this challenge.
Or so cynical me thought. Reading about Gandhi’s experiences, however, painted a far more hopeful picture. When victims refuse to fight back, their aggressors are shamed and generally treat them more kindly. The cycle of violence is forever escalating…we respond to violence with violence, which spans still more violence…to break this, we need more people who will respond with gentleness and smiles. It might seem weak and cowardly and even overly optimistic, but I think this is the only way we can respond: to swallow insults with laughter, to turn the other cheek, to be what we want to see in the world, and all those other clichés. They are clichéd because they are true. We have simply become so used to a world of violence that any alternative seems unfeasible. But societal changes will never happen until we ourselves decide to change, thus drastically opening the field of the possible. Why do we harbor such cynicism and doubt about the goodness of human nature? We need only live the best we can, without bothering about what others do or what we receive in return. My guess is that we’d see a lot more goodness and hope. It just takes that courageous first step, to live without fear and hate and respond to them both with calm and understanding.
And herein lies the most interesting point: in doing so, we can create a situation in which everyone wins. In a world ruled by passion and aggression, there are always winners and losers. We create diametrically opposed positions in which there can really only be one winner, thus creating more resentment and feelings of alienation and rage. By removing the passion, by truly attempting to understand each other, we can see beyond the issues to people, to begin to compromise in the interests of all. We are too quick to the defense, always hording what is ours and guarding it jealously, that we cease to see others through the lens of empathy. We see only forces at work in conjunction against us. This is no way to live: in fear and jealousy, quick to vengeance and slow to trust. And we cannot wait for society to change, for the world to become a trusting, loving place. WE must change. WE must work to create situations where everyone can win. WE must work to weed out violence. WE must open the field of the possible and create a dramatically different vision of what humanity is capable of. And this begins in each one of us. It is difficult to throw away all these automatic but ultimately detrimental impulses—selfishness, anger, and envy among them—but it must be done. At the very least, we will be better people for it. And at best, it will lead others to reexamine their lives in a similar light.
It is certainly true that humans are capable of terrible things, but this need not define us. We are also capable of great good and every one of us must sincerely step up to this challenge.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Electronic-Induced Impatience
My computer has been agonizingly slow lately. At first I thought perhaps I had acquired a virus—after all, I’ve been without virus detection software for a year now. But no—a long-overdue scan yielded nothing. I’ve deleted files, clearing up a third of the computer’s memory. Nothing. It’s so frustrating—I can’t even watch yoga, because the video runs very slowly and the sound jumps. How am I supposed to keep in shape in the winter now? I’m beginning to think my computer is dying, as all electronics that pass through my hands do. Which may not be a horrible thing, as I’m trying to simplify my life and I’m not sure how I’d bring it home, anyway. But for now, when I’m trying to conduct research, watch yoga, and engage in Korean culture (via dramas!), a slow computer is not ideal. So I’m turning you off for today, little friend. You win.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Jen the Disciplinarian
I have 22 classes left at Hongsan Elementary School in 2007, if all goes according to plan. That’s less than 15 hours of torture remaining! Yesssss. Though actually, today wasn’t too bad. My first two classes didn’t even show up, my third class is a group of angels, and my fourth class was surprisingly okay. Perhaps it’s because, for once, I wasn’t entirely worn down by the time I saw them. The class was still not lacking in excitement, however. The students stormed in early, as usual, and started wrecking havoc on the room and my mental peace, while I tried to ignore them and read about organic food online. I looked up at one point—maybe because the room had grown quieter—to see a strange experiment in skin elasticity: two boys had death grips on each other’s faces and were pulling the skin away from the cheekbone like putty. It was grotesque and a little frightening. Luckily, my face is out of reach for their little hands, so I was safe while separating them. It’s situations like these where I get frustrated as a foreign speaker. I never know what actually happened when students fight, and I’m always afraid of doling out unjust, absolutist punishments. So I called in their teacher, who grudgingly came in, took them out, and probably beat them with a stick or something. (Actually, I’m not sure what happened, but they didn’t come back for 25 minutes or so.) It’s situations like these that come to mind when other people comment on how cute my little elementary students must be; situations like these that are the inspiration behind my derisive scoff. I might as well be an inept playground monitor.
This afternoon I finally completed the Hongsan trail loop. I think I know where everything on that mysterious Chinese map is! Now I’ll have to hike it all one of these days…
This afternoon I finally completed the Hongsan trail loop. I think I know where everything on that mysterious Chinese map is! Now I’ll have to hike it all one of these days…
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Catch-up
I was too frustrated to continue writing last night. Yesterday was a LONG day…I was at school all day, teaching classes that I was horribly unprepared for, and I still managed to avoid planning for today. End of semester frustrations, I suppose. I just can’t bring myself to do any more work than absolutely necessary, to spend any more time at school than is strictly required. These days, I hate being there at all. Luckily, this week is going okay so far, but I still haven’t seen my two worst classes…
To top it off, Nika realized yesterday that my flight to Bangkok was not the same as hers. At the bottom of an email I’d forgotten to scrutinize, I found it…I was scheduled to leave in the evening on the same day, meaning I would arrive around midnight and have to figure out Bangkok, which was exactly what I was trying to avoid. Not to mention the fact that this would leave me even fewer days in Thailand. I was pretty stressed about this. I really hate making travel arrangements—it’s so time-consuming and stressful and I always feel that I’m making the worst decisions possible. And lately, too, my record has not been good: first the missed flight back to Korea, then the late afternoon flight from Taiwan that left me stranded on a Sunday night, and now this. I think I worked it out this afternoon, but I still don’t have the definite itinerary. I spent the evening poring over Janaki’s LP, deciding what I would do with my three extra days before Nika arrives. Hopefully this will all work out…only 11 days left now!
I have always thought that my students make fun of my Korean—actually, I KNOW they do, and it makes me angry because I never laugh when they call a horse a whore!—but evidently some of them think I know more Korean than I let on. Or they hope I do, at least, when it comes to helping them with their homework! Yesterday Yoo Jin, one of my sixth grade girls, came to me with some questions about a letter she’s composing in English. It was hard helping her. Translating from Korean to English is difficult because it lends itself to awkward sentence constructions and I have to figure out how to make it sound better without losing the flavor of the original or worse, confusing the poor girl even more. So I looked over what she’d already translated and made some suggestions. But then she wanted me to translate a couple of Korean sentences for her! I was surprised—I did manage to get the gist of what she was trying to say, with her help—but I’m not sure if I really translated it well. She told me today her teacher said she did a good job, so I suppose we did all right. I still can’t believe she expected me to be able to translate regular Korean into English! (I am secretly pleased, however.)
Back to last weekend. I was going to hike around on Saturday, too, but I decided it was time to be a little social. Colleen and Janaki were there and I hadn’t seen them in a while. Plus, I hiked the day before and planned to go the day after. Plus, the place I was thinking of going is a place I’d like to take my mom and sister to in the spring, so I really don’t need to see it now. Plus, we had to be out at the temple by five. It seemed like a good idea to stick close to the city. I managed to get in some good reading time while they were sleeping, and then we went downtown for shopping—Colleen wanted new shoes, I wanted fruit and books, and we all wanted egg bread, which is quite popular in Gwangju (it’s delicious! A whole egg surrounded by slightly sweet bread and cooked…yum!). Also, there is a tourist information center downtown, where we hoped to get directions to the 5/18 Memorial Park (in memory of the thousands of people who died in a few days of protests against the military dictatorship in May of 1980). I’d been there before, but Colleen and Janaki were interested in seeing it. We were successful in all shopping pursuits except the shoes—the style she wanted proved to be elusive—and then we got on the bus we’d been directed to. Only it took us far out of town to the 5/18 Memorial Cemetary. Not exactly what we wanted, but still interesting. Unfortunately, it left us pressed for time, for we had to get back downtown to catch a bus out to Nika’s temple—they only ran every hour or so. I realized this weekend Nika isn’t the best at giving directions, for she was very vague about the whole thing. She didn’t really tell me where I could catch the bus or anything, even though that turned out to be pretty important and was why we missed it (we were at the wrong stop). Presumably she knows all about how to reach her temple from Gwangju, since she lived there all last year. I get the impression that giving detailed directions just doesn’t interest her, which is fine, but is something I didn’t realize about her before. Personally, I love giving directions. I think it’s fun to lend people my expertise in getting around. I have very distinct memories of drawing detailed maps to my house in high school. But anyway…we missed the bus and had to take a different one that didn’t go all the way there, followed by a taxi. And then when we arrived, dinner was late, anyway. It was nice to have an evening at the temple, though…it was so serene, and relatively quiet. We had nothing to do—nothing we could do—except eat a hearty meal, nibble at persimmons and pears, huddle under blankets, and watch movies til we were tired. It was incredibly relaxing. Guess it’s not unlike my homestay, except I always have ongoing projects here that keep me occupied.
I didn’t sleep well either night. The first night it was the floor—I had my sleeping bag, but no other padding between me and the hard floor. I was tossing all night. The second night was the temperature—the room was incredibly cold and I didn’t have enough blankets. I didn’t think of my sleeping bag until the middle of the night, when I would have had trouble digging it out of the bottom of my bag in the dark. So I stole a corner of Janaki’s second blanket while she was at the monks’ service in the wee hours of the morning. They all slept in, but since I was awake, anyway, I decided to eat breakfast at six with the monks and the temple’s other visitors. It was an awkward meal, since I didn’t know anyone, but still delicious. I think they were surprised at how much I ate. I have been eating a lot lately—I think it’s winter kicking in. Also, I knew that day I probably wouldn’t eat much else, so I indulged in breakfast. And then I left.
I had to walk almost an hour to the nearest small town, Seji, where Nika’s school is. From there, I took a bus to Naju, another bus to Yeongam, and another bus to Cheonhwangsa, near the entrance to Wolchulsan National Park. It was a bit more complicated than I anticipated and I didn’t reach the park until 10:30 or so. It was certainly an interesting journey, however. My first bus driver was quite chatty. We had a half hour until the bus left, so he sat next to me and tried to talk to me and repeatedly asked me out on dates, I think. He also bought me coffee, even though I said earlier that I hated it. It was awkward. I lied for the first time about having a boyfriend.
The park itself was AMAZING. It was so craggy and jagged and dark and sharp—not what I expected at all from a park whose highest peak is a mere 809 meters! It was really fun, though certainly challenging, to climb up. Of course, I was on the more difficult side; still, it only took me an hour and a half, I think. I wasn’t really sure about the trail situation—many national park trails seem closed due to fire concerns and I saw a lot of forest fire signs—but everything here was open, apparently. The problem is that there aren’t buses at the far temple, Dogapsa. Luckily, I’d been warmly adopted by then, so I wriggled my way into a shuttle taxi for free. In fact, I got a park bandana out of the deal! I managed to hook up with this incredible family of hikers at the top. Both fathers independently tried to talk to me and then invited me to have lunch with them. I usually don’t have lunch with random people on a mountain—it’s awkward to just eat someone else’s food and then provide them with nothing in return, because I usually don’t have much to eat and I am certainly lacking when it comes to conversation!—but they insisted. When they wandered aside to find a picnic spot and I kept going, I heard them calling, “Miss USA! Miss USA!” after me, and since I do like Korean picnics and they sounded quite genuine, I turned back. And it was a fun time. They were all really nice and welcoming and were pretty awesome hikers, too! I’m not really sure of the family dynamics…I think there were at least two separate families, father-mother-child, and then one other woman. Maybe they’re related, maybe they’re just friends. I don’t know. The kids were pretty awesome. The girl was probably in fourth or fifth grade and was faster than me—though more awkward, clanging along with an oversized walking stick. The boy was probably in middle school and led the pack on gangly legs. It was fun to be with them. I wish my host family was like this! To top it off, the man who eventually gave me his business card is apparently the coach of the Korean National Amateur Boxing Team! How cool! I hope to receive an invitation to go hiking with them again…it was fun!
They must have been a really friendly group, because it became apparent while we were eating that three others—two men and a woman—were outsiders, too. They were hiking together. I don’t know how they met, but there we were, twelve of us on the mountain, crouching on rocks and eating rice and kimchicchigae (yes, they brought a stove!)
The family hiked with me for a while, then headed down some other route. I had to hurry to catch up with our other lunching buddies, who had somehow gotten ahead of us. I was nervous because I now knew there were no buses at this end of the park and the trails were nearly deserted. And it was getting late and I had to go all the way back to Hongsan. I’d wasted a lot of time eating and playing with my adopted family and was now afraid I’d end up stranded. Luckily, I had understood the boxing coach correctly—the others were in front of me and we hiked the last few kilometers together. Dogapsa was actually quite beautiful—I guess it’s being rebuilt, so it’s not old and “genuine” but rather new and glowingly golden. I was glad to see it in the setting sun.
I was pretty nervous for the trip home. I really had no idea how I was going to get back or what was the right way to go about it. But I was lucky yet again and managed to catch buses and trains in quick succession all the way back to Hongsan. I’m tired still from the wild weekend, but it was well worth it. I made new friends, met some old ones, ate good food, got a new book, and did some excellent hiking. What more can you ask for in a weekend in December?
To top it off, Nika realized yesterday that my flight to Bangkok was not the same as hers. At the bottom of an email I’d forgotten to scrutinize, I found it…I was scheduled to leave in the evening on the same day, meaning I would arrive around midnight and have to figure out Bangkok, which was exactly what I was trying to avoid. Not to mention the fact that this would leave me even fewer days in Thailand. I was pretty stressed about this. I really hate making travel arrangements—it’s so time-consuming and stressful and I always feel that I’m making the worst decisions possible. And lately, too, my record has not been good: first the missed flight back to Korea, then the late afternoon flight from Taiwan that left me stranded on a Sunday night, and now this. I think I worked it out this afternoon, but I still don’t have the definite itinerary. I spent the evening poring over Janaki’s LP, deciding what I would do with my three extra days before Nika arrives. Hopefully this will all work out…only 11 days left now!
I have always thought that my students make fun of my Korean—actually, I KNOW they do, and it makes me angry because I never laugh when they call a horse a whore!—but evidently some of them think I know more Korean than I let on. Or they hope I do, at least, when it comes to helping them with their homework! Yesterday Yoo Jin, one of my sixth grade girls, came to me with some questions about a letter she’s composing in English. It was hard helping her. Translating from Korean to English is difficult because it lends itself to awkward sentence constructions and I have to figure out how to make it sound better without losing the flavor of the original or worse, confusing the poor girl even more. So I looked over what she’d already translated and made some suggestions. But then she wanted me to translate a couple of Korean sentences for her! I was surprised—I did manage to get the gist of what she was trying to say, with her help—but I’m not sure if I really translated it well. She told me today her teacher said she did a good job, so I suppose we did all right. I still can’t believe she expected me to be able to translate regular Korean into English! (I am secretly pleased, however.)
Back to last weekend. I was going to hike around on Saturday, too, but I decided it was time to be a little social. Colleen and Janaki were there and I hadn’t seen them in a while. Plus, I hiked the day before and planned to go the day after. Plus, the place I was thinking of going is a place I’d like to take my mom and sister to in the spring, so I really don’t need to see it now. Plus, we had to be out at the temple by five. It seemed like a good idea to stick close to the city. I managed to get in some good reading time while they were sleeping, and then we went downtown for shopping—Colleen wanted new shoes, I wanted fruit and books, and we all wanted egg bread, which is quite popular in Gwangju (it’s delicious! A whole egg surrounded by slightly sweet bread and cooked…yum!). Also, there is a tourist information center downtown, where we hoped to get directions to the 5/18 Memorial Park (in memory of the thousands of people who died in a few days of protests against the military dictatorship in May of 1980). I’d been there before, but Colleen and Janaki were interested in seeing it. We were successful in all shopping pursuits except the shoes—the style she wanted proved to be elusive—and then we got on the bus we’d been directed to. Only it took us far out of town to the 5/18 Memorial Cemetary. Not exactly what we wanted, but still interesting. Unfortunately, it left us pressed for time, for we had to get back downtown to catch a bus out to Nika’s temple—they only ran every hour or so. I realized this weekend Nika isn’t the best at giving directions, for she was very vague about the whole thing. She didn’t really tell me where I could catch the bus or anything, even though that turned out to be pretty important and was why we missed it (we were at the wrong stop). Presumably she knows all about how to reach her temple from Gwangju, since she lived there all last year. I get the impression that giving detailed directions just doesn’t interest her, which is fine, but is something I didn’t realize about her before. Personally, I love giving directions. I think it’s fun to lend people my expertise in getting around. I have very distinct memories of drawing detailed maps to my house in high school. But anyway…we missed the bus and had to take a different one that didn’t go all the way there, followed by a taxi. And then when we arrived, dinner was late, anyway. It was nice to have an evening at the temple, though…it was so serene, and relatively quiet. We had nothing to do—nothing we could do—except eat a hearty meal, nibble at persimmons and pears, huddle under blankets, and watch movies til we were tired. It was incredibly relaxing. Guess it’s not unlike my homestay, except I always have ongoing projects here that keep me occupied.
I didn’t sleep well either night. The first night it was the floor—I had my sleeping bag, but no other padding between me and the hard floor. I was tossing all night. The second night was the temperature—the room was incredibly cold and I didn’t have enough blankets. I didn’t think of my sleeping bag until the middle of the night, when I would have had trouble digging it out of the bottom of my bag in the dark. So I stole a corner of Janaki’s second blanket while she was at the monks’ service in the wee hours of the morning. They all slept in, but since I was awake, anyway, I decided to eat breakfast at six with the monks and the temple’s other visitors. It was an awkward meal, since I didn’t know anyone, but still delicious. I think they were surprised at how much I ate. I have been eating a lot lately—I think it’s winter kicking in. Also, I knew that day I probably wouldn’t eat much else, so I indulged in breakfast. And then I left.
I had to walk almost an hour to the nearest small town, Seji, where Nika’s school is. From there, I took a bus to Naju, another bus to Yeongam, and another bus to Cheonhwangsa, near the entrance to Wolchulsan National Park. It was a bit more complicated than I anticipated and I didn’t reach the park until 10:30 or so. It was certainly an interesting journey, however. My first bus driver was quite chatty. We had a half hour until the bus left, so he sat next to me and tried to talk to me and repeatedly asked me out on dates, I think. He also bought me coffee, even though I said earlier that I hated it. It was awkward. I lied for the first time about having a boyfriend.
The park itself was AMAZING. It was so craggy and jagged and dark and sharp—not what I expected at all from a park whose highest peak is a mere 809 meters! It was really fun, though certainly challenging, to climb up. Of course, I was on the more difficult side; still, it only took me an hour and a half, I think. I wasn’t really sure about the trail situation—many national park trails seem closed due to fire concerns and I saw a lot of forest fire signs—but everything here was open, apparently. The problem is that there aren’t buses at the far temple, Dogapsa. Luckily, I’d been warmly adopted by then, so I wriggled my way into a shuttle taxi for free. In fact, I got a park bandana out of the deal! I managed to hook up with this incredible family of hikers at the top. Both fathers independently tried to talk to me and then invited me to have lunch with them. I usually don’t have lunch with random people on a mountain—it’s awkward to just eat someone else’s food and then provide them with nothing in return, because I usually don’t have much to eat and I am certainly lacking when it comes to conversation!—but they insisted. When they wandered aside to find a picnic spot and I kept going, I heard them calling, “Miss USA! Miss USA!” after me, and since I do like Korean picnics and they sounded quite genuine, I turned back. And it was a fun time. They were all really nice and welcoming and were pretty awesome hikers, too! I’m not really sure of the family dynamics…I think there were at least two separate families, father-mother-child, and then one other woman. Maybe they’re related, maybe they’re just friends. I don’t know. The kids were pretty awesome. The girl was probably in fourth or fifth grade and was faster than me—though more awkward, clanging along with an oversized walking stick. The boy was probably in middle school and led the pack on gangly legs. It was fun to be with them. I wish my host family was like this! To top it off, the man who eventually gave me his business card is apparently the coach of the Korean National Amateur Boxing Team! How cool! I hope to receive an invitation to go hiking with them again…it was fun!
They must have been a really friendly group, because it became apparent while we were eating that three others—two men and a woman—were outsiders, too. They were hiking together. I don’t know how they met, but there we were, twelve of us on the mountain, crouching on rocks and eating rice and kimchicchigae (yes, they brought a stove!)
The family hiked with me for a while, then headed down some other route. I had to hurry to catch up with our other lunching buddies, who had somehow gotten ahead of us. I was nervous because I now knew there were no buses at this end of the park and the trails were nearly deserted. And it was getting late and I had to go all the way back to Hongsan. I’d wasted a lot of time eating and playing with my adopted family and was now afraid I’d end up stranded. Luckily, I had understood the boxing coach correctly—the others were in front of me and we hiked the last few kilometers together. Dogapsa was actually quite beautiful—I guess it’s being rebuilt, so it’s not old and “genuine” but rather new and glowingly golden. I was glad to see it in the setting sun.
I was pretty nervous for the trip home. I really had no idea how I was going to get back or what was the right way to go about it. But I was lucky yet again and managed to catch buses and trains in quick succession all the way back to Hongsan. I’m tired still from the wild weekend, but it was well worth it. I made new friends, met some old ones, ate good food, got a new book, and did some excellent hiking. What more can you ask for in a weekend in December?
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Positivity, or, FIGHTING!
I find myself in the position of having to swallow my own advice. A friend wrote me last night with job complaints. She was dissatisfied, felt that she wasn’t doing well and was disappointed in her work, and was seriously starting to question whether the line of work was for her. I wrote back, encouraging her to stay positive and give it another chance, to put in one last best effort before she quit in frustration. And as I was writing, it became clear to me that I should be taking my own advice. I’ve allowed myself to become swamped by negativity, to dread each moment of work, to resent the fact that I am actually at work rather than elsewhere. There are almost no ups in my professional life these days. And though I do know it’s at least ninety percent my own doing, due to my negative outlook, I’ve made no effort to change. For weeks now I’ve been counting down the days rather than enjoying my time at school, and time is dragging by with little to no fun to be had for anyone involved. I know it’s not entirely me—the kids are tired of school, too—but I could do much to bring them around. Instead, I am a cloud of black doom. My demeanor screams that I don’t want to be there, which results in less productive, less enjoyable class time, which increases my resentment. It’s a vicious cycle.
Today I decided I must make some effort to resist. And I did try. I usually hate teaching second grade—they jump around everywhere, destroy everything, mock my every word, shout and scream and hit and fight and run, and do their utmost to resist any English I might teach them. I know they are capable, but somehow they manage to learn about half of what the first graders do. Anyway, I managed to make it through the period with smiles and a calm voice. Two periods later, I was worn down and resorting to threats and evil eyes with my demonic third grade class, my second-most hated class. It’s a process, I suppose. I’ll just have to try again tomorrow. But Fridays are so hard…the two periods to freedom are endless and I resent every minute they rob of my weekend. But if I’m unable to change the fact that I have to be there, I suppose I must reform my attitude so it’s not torture for everyone. Why am I so bitter these days? My thoughts are all dark and vengeful…it’s a bit disturbing.
Today I decided I must make some effort to resist. And I did try. I usually hate teaching second grade—they jump around everywhere, destroy everything, mock my every word, shout and scream and hit and fight and run, and do their utmost to resist any English I might teach them. I know they are capable, but somehow they manage to learn about half of what the first graders do. Anyway, I managed to make it through the period with smiles and a calm voice. Two periods later, I was worn down and resorting to threats and evil eyes with my demonic third grade class, my second-most hated class. It’s a process, I suppose. I’ll just have to try again tomorrow. But Fridays are so hard…the two periods to freedom are endless and I resent every minute they rob of my weekend. But if I’m unable to change the fact that I have to be there, I suppose I must reform my attitude so it’s not torture for everyone. Why am I so bitter these days? My thoughts are all dark and vengeful…it’s a bit disturbing.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Gandhi
I am more and more intrigued with Gandhi with each page of his autobiography. It took a little while for him to grow on me—some of his ideas just seem very bizarre and extreme to me, if not contradictory—but I am gradually coming to see the coherence in his thought and it echoes and addresses a lot of the concerns I have for living a fulfilling life in the modern world. He is a strong advocate of living simply, with few possessions and material desires, which is at the core of my ideology, too, though it has taken some time to let go of the desire to possess. He is also a vegetarian and actually advocates a diet of fruits and nuts, which, strangely, does somewhat resemble my diet of late that has served me well. I don’t eat many nuts, but fruit is probably half of what I eat, along with a little rice and a lot of vegetables. I feel better than I can ever remember feeling. According to Gandhi, such a diet curbs passion, especially sexual passion. Perhaps this is true, too, or perhaps I am just experiencing a slow death of emotions here on the farm. Celibacy has never been one of my goals and this is one of his ideas that I found most strange—isn’t it an act of love?—but it is making more sense as I read on. I think he is right that family ties and obligations make it hard to work on behalf of the people. Children tie you to the system and you become obsessed with giving them every advantage and forget about your former idealism. Not to mention the fact that they wear you out. In fact, I read a poem on this very subject the other day in my anthology of Indian women’s literature.
Tumache He Sojwal Samsar (Your Pious and Irreproachable Homes)
By Anuradha Potdar
It’s what I want to do—
scatter, with a breath,
your pious and irreproachable homes
like a house of cards:
your escapist crises
that reach the cliff-edge
only to run back in greater haste;
your pitiful storms
that dissolve
in the unachieved ecstasy of copulation;
and the litter of sweet, helpless babies
hatched by the human female—
it’s this litter that drives deep
into the soil
the obstinate roots of your homes,
and these houses of cards
become stone mansions
for us to bang our heads on
till they bleed.
I think it perfectly expresses and explains middle class inaction and is also a warning against it. I am heeding it. It’s also a beautiful poem.
Gandhi’s extreme pacifism, too, is remarkable and especially instructive for a person of such volatile emotions as myself. All of the times I would fight for my rights, he steps back, compromises, takes the insult or injury as the natural course of events and does not hold a grudge, and in the end, wins. Most of us are so quick to perceive any slight that comes our way, dangerously quick in protecting our cherished rights and punishing those who we see as infringing upon them, when perhaps we don’t need to be. Perhaps we should all be a little softer, a little gentler, and things will work out in a way that everyone is happy. Once emotions are brought in, confrontation arises and the winner takes all. I suppose I am just distrustful enough of human nature that I am unwilling to be gentle and compromise. It does seem to be the right path, however, and is something I should work on.
Tumache He Sojwal Samsar (Your Pious and Irreproachable Homes)
By Anuradha Potdar
It’s what I want to do—
scatter, with a breath,
your pious and irreproachable homes
like a house of cards:
your escapist crises
that reach the cliff-edge
only to run back in greater haste;
your pitiful storms
that dissolve
in the unachieved ecstasy of copulation;
and the litter of sweet, helpless babies
hatched by the human female—
it’s this litter that drives deep
into the soil
the obstinate roots of your homes,
and these houses of cards
become stone mansions
for us to bang our heads on
till they bleed.
I think it perfectly expresses and explains middle class inaction and is also a warning against it. I am heeding it. It’s also a beautiful poem.
Gandhi’s extreme pacifism, too, is remarkable and especially instructive for a person of such volatile emotions as myself. All of the times I would fight for my rights, he steps back, compromises, takes the insult or injury as the natural course of events and does not hold a grudge, and in the end, wins. Most of us are so quick to perceive any slight that comes our way, dangerously quick in protecting our cherished rights and punishing those who we see as infringing upon them, when perhaps we don’t need to be. Perhaps we should all be a little softer, a little gentler, and things will work out in a way that everyone is happy. Once emotions are brought in, confrontation arises and the winner takes all. I suppose I am just distrustful enough of human nature that I am unwilling to be gentle and compromise. It does seem to be the right path, however, and is something I should work on.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Trails and Thinking
And the days keep whirling by. I’m down to 12 now. I was informed yesterday there will be no days off, which is disappointing and unexpected but I’m not really in a position to complain, with my 20 hours a week. I was supposed to have today off, but the test the students took (on music and art?) was only two periods, so I had to come for the second half of the morning. I wasn’t really happy about it—I’d far rather teach the first two periods—but again, how can I complain? I was hoping to take a hiking day trip today, but it was quite chilly anyway so perhaps it turned out for the best. I did some of the Hongsan trail instead, and by the time I returned my hands refused to function. They were so frozen it took me several minutes and some time immersed in the warmth of my garments to undo the button of my pants. I don’t know when my hands have ever been that cold before! Thankfully, today I did not get lost. With the knowledge I gleaned from last week’s fiasco, I figured out where I went wrong and finally completed the loop I intended to do last time. These trails are so hard to follow sometimes! I suppose it makes success that much more rewarding, but considering my odds of success so far, perhaps I’d better be careful until the weather is nicer.
I was thinking about power systems and hierarchies as my hands were numbing today (among other things, of course). This is prompted in part by Gandhi’s autobiography, which I have been working through the last couple weeks, and also by a conversation I had with the Korean priest on Friday, who commented on the vastly different system of respect and honor the Indians he’s worked with have. It seems to me that human society is always based on a hierarchy. There’s simply no way to equally divide power (though communism does try, I think), and so systems have developed that divide the power along different lines. In Korea’s Confucian system, it’s based on age; in America, it’s on wealth; in India, it’s on caste. (I haven’t been to India yet, but this is the impression I get.) Each system has its merits and downfalls. In Korea, reverence for elders can sometimes lead to excessive conservatism in that with older people in charge, there is not much space for and trust of young innovation. However, it also promotes societal peace—each person will get their chance to be revered. In India, the caste system allows for no movement across class lines and broadly discriminates against vast swaths of people on the basis of birth. However, here, too, people do know their place. There doesn’t seem to be the sense of entitlement that pervades America, where we’ve rid ourselves of a rigid system of reverence and allowed wealth to form the basis of our respect. Our system, I think, is the worst, if only because it encourages that which is worst in human nature in a cutthroat competition to the top. The Eastern systems may be more rigid and inefficient, but at least they don’t reward greed and corruption and exploitation. And yet it is American values that are underwriting our vision of the world as it reigns supreme in the era of globalization. This cannot be a good thing.
I was thinking about power systems and hierarchies as my hands were numbing today (among other things, of course). This is prompted in part by Gandhi’s autobiography, which I have been working through the last couple weeks, and also by a conversation I had with the Korean priest on Friday, who commented on the vastly different system of respect and honor the Indians he’s worked with have. It seems to me that human society is always based on a hierarchy. There’s simply no way to equally divide power (though communism does try, I think), and so systems have developed that divide the power along different lines. In Korea’s Confucian system, it’s based on age; in America, it’s on wealth; in India, it’s on caste. (I haven’t been to India yet, but this is the impression I get.) Each system has its merits and downfalls. In Korea, reverence for elders can sometimes lead to excessive conservatism in that with older people in charge, there is not much space for and trust of young innovation. However, it also promotes societal peace—each person will get their chance to be revered. In India, the caste system allows for no movement across class lines and broadly discriminates against vast swaths of people on the basis of birth. However, here, too, people do know their place. There doesn’t seem to be the sense of entitlement that pervades America, where we’ve rid ourselves of a rigid system of reverence and allowed wealth to form the basis of our respect. Our system, I think, is the worst, if only because it encourages that which is worst in human nature in a cutthroat competition to the top. The Eastern systems may be more rigid and inefficient, but at least they don’t reward greed and corruption and exploitation. And yet it is American values that are underwriting our vision of the world as it reigns supreme in the era of globalization. This cannot be a good thing.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Two Days, Two Parks: Byeonsanbando and Seonunsan
I woke early Saturday morning to hit the trails early. I was first, as usual—the sun had just risen (sort of…it was overcast) and the air was chilly, so that coupled with the diminutive nature of the park village lead to few people, especially early in the morning. I poked around Naesosa Temple first and then headed up the trail. Again, I evaded entrance fees by waking early J. The temple was pretty neat, but its shop was even more enticing for me…they had so many tea sets, and they were so beautiful! Alas, they were not open yet, so I decided I had to come back that way to check it out that afternoon. I climbed to the ridgeline and saw my first people of the day—two older women who must work at the temple, judging by their clothing. I had a couple maps, but I really had no idea where I was going. The maps I had all lacked elevation and distance indicators, and I also suspected some areas of the park might be closed, since it is supposedly fire season in Korea (this, even though it’s rained the past couple days now). Since the park was so small, though, and I wanted to see everything, it seemed the day would require quite a bit of climbing up and down. I decided to stick to the ridge at first—I wanted to make sure I saw everything up there first, before I descended. I managed to do the portion behind the temple, but then the trail was closed off for fire protection. Thwarted again! I had to retrace my steps, and then I climbed down into the main valley to Jikso waterfall, which was entirely devoid of water at the time. Still, it was an interesting sight. I got some good pictures at the reservoir downstream, too. By this point, the skies had begun to clear and hordes of hikers had started meandering the trails. Most of them appeared to be going the opposite direction—from the trailhead below the waterfall to Naesosa Temple, or Wolmyeongam Hermitage to Naesosa. I am pretty sure I was the only one stupid enough to travel all of the available trails twice, but that is what I did. I wandered to the trail junction below the waterfall and turned to the hermitage, which required another steep climb. I’m usually not much of a temple-seeker—they often seem to be so much the same for me—but this weekend was different. I saw some truly fabulous temples. Then again, maybe I was different—maybe I had more patience or was more open to the experience than I have been. Whatever the case, the hermitage was splendid. The buildings were colorful and attractive—they seemed to have more dragon motifs than most, and must have just received a coat of paint—and it had an absolutely stunning view of the park, as it was situated high on a steep hillside that opened to the mountains in every direction. Sunrise here must be incredible as it peeks over the park. Best of all, they had a huge barrel of lotus leaf tea for the taking—just what I needed in the noon chill! I had run out of water, but this was even better. I don’t know how they brewed it, but it tasted better than the stuff I make ever does. There was a faint aftertaste of apple cider to it—strange, but delicious.
And then I headed back the way I came. It was easy at first, since I headed downhill, but climbing back up to the ridge on an empty stomach with 15 km on my legs was more difficult. I did pass several groups of older Korean men and they were surprised to see me power past them, I think. I was going faster than was perhaps advisable, but I figured the end was in sight and I’d soon be resting on a bus, anyway. The downhill was sweet for sure.
I really liked this park a lot, even though it was small. I’d love to go back and do the sections that were closed off. The terrain is so rocky that there are many places to sit and enjoy the sea and mountain view—rare in Korean parks that are so heavily forested. It seemed there was a perfect picnic nook every 100 feet! And I have to go back and look for tea sets, too…when I got there, I realized I had next to no money left and couldn’t afford to buy anything, except some well-deserved soondubu (a type of tofu stew) and, of course, persimmons. At least now I know how to get to the park, and it’s not all that far away, either.
I proceeded to spend an absurd amount of time busing to the next park, Seonunsan, which was probably 20 minutes away by car but a direct bus connection was not available. I’m sure it could have been easier than I made it, but I’m really not familiar with the cities in this province at all, so I stuck with the bigger cities to ensure connections. I made it that evening, which is all I’d hoped for, anyway. With darkness descending at five, there’s little afternoon hiking to be had these days. I was surprised by the size and vitality of the tourist village at the base of the temple, especially compared to the one I’d just left. This was only a provincial park and naturally I’d expected it to be smaller—the entry in my guidebook had been much smaller, too—but not so. There were many huge hotels, several noraebang, and a whole line of restaurants…and this was just in the portion near the bus stop! I saw on the way out that there were many more restaurants along the road, along with several nice-looking pensions. I’m not sure what goes into renting a pension, but I’d be tempted to do so here…they looked luxurious. Besides, I LOVED this park…I’m DEFINITELY going back! It was difficult to find a room, though. The place was hoppin and prices were high. I managed to get a room for 30,000 won by telling them I was alone and making a sad face. As usual, they had to explain to me what a fabulous deal I was getting. I don’t know why, but it seems whenever I buy something the sellers go to great length to tell me what the original price is and what I’m getting it for. I really don’t care—just give it to me! It seems so silly to tell me that the bag of apples is usually 6000 won and I’m getting it for 5000, especially when most of them seem think I don’t understand a word, anyway. Speaking of which—I definitely had a lot of people try to talk to me this weekend. They seem more friendly when I’m alone—maybe because they feel pity for me. Koreans don’t understand solitude. Anyway, without exception everyone was impressed with my very meager skills. My fellow expats must be doing terribly with the language if I am able to get this much praise! I’m usually embarrassed to say how long I’ve been here already, with the conversational skills I have—or rather, lack!
Alone in the hotel room that night, I watched some TV. Unfortunately, the only thing in English was an absolutely terrible reality TV show called Pirate Master. It was just agonizing to watch how the show exploited human greed and encouraged the participants to backstab each other on their way to a half million dollar prize. I read a short story recently in which the main character makes this observation: "People have put a man on the moon. A wonderful achievement, but still there is hatred based on class and race and when we read about such cruelty and hatred, it seems as if it is about the Christians and their Crusades centuries ago. Which of these phenomena, I wonder, reflects humanity? What does progress really mean?" And I say: There are so many amazing things being done in the world—people giving their time, their energy, their money, to people less fortunate in an effort to help them. Idealism is rampant, especially among my generation. But then there are shows like this. What reflects humanity in this case? What is the natural human impulse? Are we essentially greedy beings, or can we exist beyond the “give me” impulse? I’d like to believe we can, but I myself wage a constant battle against selfishness. It’s certainly disheartening that the public and the media encourage us to overindulge in ourselves all the time, when in fact I think we need constant checks against acquiring too much—both because it draws away from what other people can have, and because possessions tend to corrupt. The more you have, it seems, the less you give. It might not make sense, but it’s true. We have an overdeveloped sense of entitlement along with a keen urge to acquire. It does not make for a healthy society. I finally had to turn it off, though unfortunately, this doesn’t make the problem go away.
I again woke early, but this time in the rain. It was sprinkling all day—not enough to drench, but enough to sap at one’s spirits and make everything damp. But I marched through it anyway. I hadn’t come all this way to be defeated by rain! And I’m so glad I didn’t turn back, since I loved the park so much. The temple itself was nice, but not all that fabulous. Worth a wander, but it wouldn’t draw me back. It was the intense scenery, even obscured by fog and rain. It was drama and rock and wildness and extremes and awesome. At every moment, at every turn, I was newly impressed, my breath taken away yet again, as another intense scene unfolded before me. But finally I was driven away by both the time and the weather—it was really starting to pour, and I wanted to peek around the valley tea shop before departing. There I fell in love with yet another horrifically expensive tea set, but I think I’ll take the plunge for this one if it’s still there in the spring. Then I’ll know we’re meant to be, if it’s still there J. Fate might not work for me in terms of a man…we’ll see what it does for me in terms of tea! The shop was actually really nice—cozy and warm and had all sorts of handmade items for sale. It was a dangerous spot for me. On the way back down, I saw a huge Buddha carving etched on a wall and climbed to the top of a pinnacle on which a tiny prayer hall was perched. There were all sorts of people out by then—grandmothers, groups of hikers, old men, families…all trudging through the rain together. It was a pretty neat atmosphere. Unfortunately, I still have no idea how the park is set up, since I never got a good view from above but just wandered as my feet took me. Guess I’ll have to leave that for next time!
I indulged in another village meal upon my return to the bus stop. This one is marked by an interesting incident: my first Korean fight. There I was, stirring my bibimbap and dabbing my chopsticks into the delicious array of vegetables before me, when I heard a resounding crash! The men in the back of the room had been noisy since I got there, but I hadn’t paid any attention—figured they’d been drinking (one of them was openly staring at me and tried to start a conversation before his wife herded him away). Korean men can be such train wrecks when they drink. And when I looked up, the low table had been turned over, dumping an entire tableful of dishes and food and drink. At first I thought perhaps it had been an accident—drunks are clumsy, after all—but then two men started throttling each other in the back corner while everyone else looked on in horror. One man was turning red as the other strangled him. It was a complete disaster. And it seemed so outrageous…I mean, this was 1 pm on a Sunday! How can you let yourself become such a wreck at that hour? Why is this acceptable in this country? They were finally separated and I assume they were calmed down, since they had to ride a tour bus back to wherever together. From what I could gather, the other men gave the restaurant some money to cover the damage. I watched them clean up—few broken dishes, but it was quite a big mess that was complicated by the fact that much of the food was red and spicy and much of the drink was a dark red berry wine. Good recipe for stains, there. I think everyone involved, including the restaurant workers, was embarrassed I had been there to witness such an event. Some of them apologized and tried to explain to me. I was mostly shocked the whole time, but now, I am just disgusted. Seriously…you get to be a middle-aged man and you’re involving yourself in midafternoon fights? Where exactly is your life headed? Not someplace I want to go, definitely!
And then I headed back the way I came. It was easy at first, since I headed downhill, but climbing back up to the ridge on an empty stomach with 15 km on my legs was more difficult. I did pass several groups of older Korean men and they were surprised to see me power past them, I think. I was going faster than was perhaps advisable, but I figured the end was in sight and I’d soon be resting on a bus, anyway. The downhill was sweet for sure.
I really liked this park a lot, even though it was small. I’d love to go back and do the sections that were closed off. The terrain is so rocky that there are many places to sit and enjoy the sea and mountain view—rare in Korean parks that are so heavily forested. It seemed there was a perfect picnic nook every 100 feet! And I have to go back and look for tea sets, too…when I got there, I realized I had next to no money left and couldn’t afford to buy anything, except some well-deserved soondubu (a type of tofu stew) and, of course, persimmons. At least now I know how to get to the park, and it’s not all that far away, either.
I proceeded to spend an absurd amount of time busing to the next park, Seonunsan, which was probably 20 minutes away by car but a direct bus connection was not available. I’m sure it could have been easier than I made it, but I’m really not familiar with the cities in this province at all, so I stuck with the bigger cities to ensure connections. I made it that evening, which is all I’d hoped for, anyway. With darkness descending at five, there’s little afternoon hiking to be had these days. I was surprised by the size and vitality of the tourist village at the base of the temple, especially compared to the one I’d just left. This was only a provincial park and naturally I’d expected it to be smaller—the entry in my guidebook had been much smaller, too—but not so. There were many huge hotels, several noraebang, and a whole line of restaurants…and this was just in the portion near the bus stop! I saw on the way out that there were many more restaurants along the road, along with several nice-looking pensions. I’m not sure what goes into renting a pension, but I’d be tempted to do so here…they looked luxurious. Besides, I LOVED this park…I’m DEFINITELY going back! It was difficult to find a room, though. The place was hoppin and prices were high. I managed to get a room for 30,000 won by telling them I was alone and making a sad face. As usual, they had to explain to me what a fabulous deal I was getting. I don’t know why, but it seems whenever I buy something the sellers go to great length to tell me what the original price is and what I’m getting it for. I really don’t care—just give it to me! It seems so silly to tell me that the bag of apples is usually 6000 won and I’m getting it for 5000, especially when most of them seem think I don’t understand a word, anyway. Speaking of which—I definitely had a lot of people try to talk to me this weekend. They seem more friendly when I’m alone—maybe because they feel pity for me. Koreans don’t understand solitude. Anyway, without exception everyone was impressed with my very meager skills. My fellow expats must be doing terribly with the language if I am able to get this much praise! I’m usually embarrassed to say how long I’ve been here already, with the conversational skills I have—or rather, lack!
Alone in the hotel room that night, I watched some TV. Unfortunately, the only thing in English was an absolutely terrible reality TV show called Pirate Master. It was just agonizing to watch how the show exploited human greed and encouraged the participants to backstab each other on their way to a half million dollar prize. I read a short story recently in which the main character makes this observation: "People have put a man on the moon. A wonderful achievement, but still there is hatred based on class and race and when we read about such cruelty and hatred, it seems as if it is about the Christians and their Crusades centuries ago. Which of these phenomena, I wonder, reflects humanity? What does progress really mean?" And I say: There are so many amazing things being done in the world—people giving their time, their energy, their money, to people less fortunate in an effort to help them. Idealism is rampant, especially among my generation. But then there are shows like this. What reflects humanity in this case? What is the natural human impulse? Are we essentially greedy beings, or can we exist beyond the “give me” impulse? I’d like to believe we can, but I myself wage a constant battle against selfishness. It’s certainly disheartening that the public and the media encourage us to overindulge in ourselves all the time, when in fact I think we need constant checks against acquiring too much—both because it draws away from what other people can have, and because possessions tend to corrupt. The more you have, it seems, the less you give. It might not make sense, but it’s true. We have an overdeveloped sense of entitlement along with a keen urge to acquire. It does not make for a healthy society. I finally had to turn it off, though unfortunately, this doesn’t make the problem go away.
I again woke early, but this time in the rain. It was sprinkling all day—not enough to drench, but enough to sap at one’s spirits and make everything damp. But I marched through it anyway. I hadn’t come all this way to be defeated by rain! And I’m so glad I didn’t turn back, since I loved the park so much. The temple itself was nice, but not all that fabulous. Worth a wander, but it wouldn’t draw me back. It was the intense scenery, even obscured by fog and rain. It was drama and rock and wildness and extremes and awesome. At every moment, at every turn, I was newly impressed, my breath taken away yet again, as another intense scene unfolded before me. But finally I was driven away by both the time and the weather—it was really starting to pour, and I wanted to peek around the valley tea shop before departing. There I fell in love with yet another horrifically expensive tea set, but I think I’ll take the plunge for this one if it’s still there in the spring. Then I’ll know we’re meant to be, if it’s still there J. Fate might not work for me in terms of a man…we’ll see what it does for me in terms of tea! The shop was actually really nice—cozy and warm and had all sorts of handmade items for sale. It was a dangerous spot for me. On the way back down, I saw a huge Buddha carving etched on a wall and climbed to the top of a pinnacle on which a tiny prayer hall was perched. There were all sorts of people out by then—grandmothers, groups of hikers, old men, families…all trudging through the rain together. It was a pretty neat atmosphere. Unfortunately, I still have no idea how the park is set up, since I never got a good view from above but just wandered as my feet took me. Guess I’ll have to leave that for next time!
I indulged in another village meal upon my return to the bus stop. This one is marked by an interesting incident: my first Korean fight. There I was, stirring my bibimbap and dabbing my chopsticks into the delicious array of vegetables before me, when I heard a resounding crash! The men in the back of the room had been noisy since I got there, but I hadn’t paid any attention—figured they’d been drinking (one of them was openly staring at me and tried to start a conversation before his wife herded him away). Korean men can be such train wrecks when they drink. And when I looked up, the low table had been turned over, dumping an entire tableful of dishes and food and drink. At first I thought perhaps it had been an accident—drunks are clumsy, after all—but then two men started throttling each other in the back corner while everyone else looked on in horror. One man was turning red as the other strangled him. It was a complete disaster. And it seemed so outrageous…I mean, this was 1 pm on a Sunday! How can you let yourself become such a wreck at that hour? Why is this acceptable in this country? They were finally separated and I assume they were calmed down, since they had to ride a tour bus back to wherever together. From what I could gather, the other men gave the restaurant some money to cover the damage. I watched them clean up—few broken dishes, but it was quite a big mess that was complicated by the fact that much of the food was red and spicy and much of the drink was a dark red berry wine. Good recipe for stains, there. I think everyone involved, including the restaurant workers, was embarrassed I had been there to witness such an event. Some of them apologized and tried to explain to me. I was mostly shocked the whole time, but now, I am just disgusted. Seriously…you get to be a middle-aged man and you’re involving yourself in midafternoon fights? Where exactly is your life headed? Not someplace I want to go, definitely!
The Mountains and the Sea: Journey to Byeonsanbando
I am back from my weekend of solitude. It was not eventful, perhaps, but I saw some amazing things and really enjoyed the experience of getting around by myself. I’ve never had an entire weekend away and alone in Korea, except Seoraksan. It’s a different sort of experience and it can be quite lonely, especially in winter when the sun’s down around five and there’s nothing to do until morning. But then, it gives you a lot of time to think and entertain yourself, and then you have the freedom to plan whatever you want!
I headed south after my two morning classes on Friday. For once, I did not travel through Buyeo, but headed straight south to Gunsan, a large town just south of the provincial border. It has potential as a good travel hub—I think going through here, surprisingly, might be my fastest route to Incheon airport—but the bus station is far from big. It will take more investigation. But then, isn’t that just what the past year and some has consisted of? Constant and careful investigation, working from only a few clues. Luckily, I have patience for such matters as sifting through bus schedules and studying maps, though most people assume I’m clueless. When I arrived in Byeonsan, for example, I was surprised to find it was so small—I was expecting larger so close to a national park—and was debating what to do with the remaining hours of the chilly afternoon when a stranger pulled over, tried to offer help, and insisted on giving me a ride. For the most part, he was more clueless than I, even though he was Korean and spoke the language. I felt very capable upon this realization—Korean tourists know less than I do! I am doing okay! He was looking for birds, but we didn’t find any. Instead, he drove me around the peninsula and we had a late lunch together. And I got a ride to Naesosa Temple, which would have been difficult otherwise. I’m a little bummed I didn’t get in more activity—I was looking to go hiking when he stopped me—but it was quite frigid and who knows what could have happened to me in the process. Since it was a weekend of solitude, I felt obliged to reach out to strangers. Can’t be completely without contact. And so I met a Seoul area businessman-turned-preacher who shared his knowledge about Korean politics and Boston with me.
The area around Naesosa was also surprisingly deserted. He dropped me off about two kilometers away, which was good—I wanted to find a place on my own. Little did I know how difficult it would be. Just about every other building advertised itself as a minbak, but all of them were deserted. I guess it’s not the season for hikers, but still…I expected something. There weren’t even any stores or restaurants on this stretch of road…just silent houses. The sun was setting, the wind was rising, and I was panicking…where would I spend the night? This has never been an issue before…there are ALWAYS places to sleep and eat! Even on mountains! Luckily, as I approached the temple, a few restaurants and one motel cropped up. It was still the smallest park village I’ve ever come across. I guess this area doesn’t see much traffic. The motel was surprisingly nice…perhaps the nicest one I’ve been to in Korea! Everything was new and shiny and comfortable; however, the TV only got four Korean channels and I couldn’t find the bathtub plug. So I watched Rugrats dubbed in Korean after enjoying a soak with a cup precariously placed over the drain. Adventures, I tell you.
I headed south after my two morning classes on Friday. For once, I did not travel through Buyeo, but headed straight south to Gunsan, a large town just south of the provincial border. It has potential as a good travel hub—I think going through here, surprisingly, might be my fastest route to Incheon airport—but the bus station is far from big. It will take more investigation. But then, isn’t that just what the past year and some has consisted of? Constant and careful investigation, working from only a few clues. Luckily, I have patience for such matters as sifting through bus schedules and studying maps, though most people assume I’m clueless. When I arrived in Byeonsan, for example, I was surprised to find it was so small—I was expecting larger so close to a national park—and was debating what to do with the remaining hours of the chilly afternoon when a stranger pulled over, tried to offer help, and insisted on giving me a ride. For the most part, he was more clueless than I, even though he was Korean and spoke the language. I felt very capable upon this realization—Korean tourists know less than I do! I am doing okay! He was looking for birds, but we didn’t find any. Instead, he drove me around the peninsula and we had a late lunch together. And I got a ride to Naesosa Temple, which would have been difficult otherwise. I’m a little bummed I didn’t get in more activity—I was looking to go hiking when he stopped me—but it was quite frigid and who knows what could have happened to me in the process. Since it was a weekend of solitude, I felt obliged to reach out to strangers. Can’t be completely without contact. And so I met a Seoul area businessman-turned-preacher who shared his knowledge about Korean politics and Boston with me.
The area around Naesosa was also surprisingly deserted. He dropped me off about two kilometers away, which was good—I wanted to find a place on my own. Little did I know how difficult it would be. Just about every other building advertised itself as a minbak, but all of them were deserted. I guess it’s not the season for hikers, but still…I expected something. There weren’t even any stores or restaurants on this stretch of road…just silent houses. The sun was setting, the wind was rising, and I was panicking…where would I spend the night? This has never been an issue before…there are ALWAYS places to sleep and eat! Even on mountains! Luckily, as I approached the temple, a few restaurants and one motel cropped up. It was still the smallest park village I’ve ever come across. I guess this area doesn’t see much traffic. The motel was surprisingly nice…perhaps the nicest one I’ve been to in Korea! Everything was new and shiny and comfortable; however, the TV only got four Korean channels and I couldn’t find the bathtub plug. So I watched Rugrats dubbed in Korean after enjoying a soak with a cup precariously placed over the drain. Adventures, I tell you.
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