Because if I do not write a trip-wrapping up post now, I likely will never do so, and thereby will disappoint myself and possibly others. So! In a convenient multi-list format, here are things about the trip I haven't yet mentioned:
Lies:
* I was not in Busan. For some reason I thought we would be in Busan, but we were not. I was either mistaken or misled or simply a spreader of lies to all I know. But the places I went were: Incheon, Suwon, Seoul, Hwaesong/Dongtan (like, a suburb of Suwon?) and Pyeongchang. Those were the places. Not one day, moment or second in Busan.
* The food was not weird. It was delicious. Some of it was unfamiliar, but I imagine I'll find myself at Korean Restaurants more often these days.
* Formality: maybe it was the camp format, or a concession to American Ways, but it really wasn't terribly formal. I've been in the houses of relatives where I felt less at ease.
Kids:
* as I believe I mentioned before, ten year old boys are ten year old boys no matter where you go. even if they are familiar with, know how to deal with and are well equipped to handle school, they would still rather put chairs on their heads and yell "Teacher! I am Transformer!"
* they love to catch Dragonflies, these kids.
* anna (many children used english names), a 10 year old girl who looked about seven, had braces and was generally quiet, comes up to me the day before departure: "teacher-- you go seattle tommorrow?"yes.
the next day she approaches me with a pen, rolls up my sleeve and writes "I love you. Bey! --anna"
Culture:
* Korea is very Korean. White people in Seattle love to talk about how very White Seattle is, but it's fricken' London compared to Seoul. 99% of Korea is Koreans. . .
. . . but that doesn't mean the city isn't international-capable. The country. Signs in Korean and English. German tv stations in the hotels. Parisian Baguettes. Etc. The whole culture has it's arms open. Which is maybe easier to do when you can present an obviously unified front? I dunno.
* The buildings are tall, but somehow I don't think I'd go insane living there. Maybe it's the inbuilt parks between apartment buildings or the fact that I know in the back of my head I don't speak the language and thereby a lot of the noise would be rendered useless to me, but I think I could do it.
* Not that I'm planning to move.
* There. Necessarily.
other things? maybe. maybe more pictures. maybe links. maybe k-pop videos. but I know how I work and how this blog is and I don't like making promises.
Showing posts with label culture shock therapy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture shock therapy. Show all posts
Thursday, 28 July 2011
Saturday, 16 July 2011
You'd Think. . .(koreatrip #4)
that in a city like Suwon, next to an international hotel, there would be at least ONE place selling postcards. Cheap, tacky postcards. That I can send to friends, enemies and loved ones.
This, so far, has not been my experience. In further minor frustrations, my camera battery is dead, rendering the picture uploadery I was hoping for undoable at this time. In four hours I'll be on a bus, with the rest of the WBC team, to the countryside, where the real meat of english-teaching will begin.
In the meantime, packing, church, coffee, attempting not to slip into food coma simply from the residual hospitality of the last three days.
This, so far, has not been my experience. In further minor frustrations, my camera battery is dead, rendering the picture uploadery I was hoping for undoable at this time. In four hours I'll be on a bus, with the rest of the WBC team, to the countryside, where the real meat of english-teaching will begin.
In the meantime, packing, church, coffee, attempting not to slip into food coma simply from the residual hospitality of the last three days.
Friday, 15 July 2011
Thursday, 21 April 2011
A Passionate Tome of Perpetually Increasing Relevance
or Arguably the Third Best Thing is Sunday Dresses
In the end, it doesn't really matter what Earl Sweatshirt is doing.
What matters is the idea of Earl Sweatshirt, and that he's done something so
awesome, so subversive, that at sixteen he is a martyr for a cause, like
the West Memphis Three-in-one, a derangedly real manifestation of outsider art, that
he is someone to "Free." This is kind of a healthy rallying point, I suppose,
that get-free urge, no matter, almost whom (give us barabbas!) you're opting to free;
most other high volume chants start with "fuck" or "destroy" or at least "give us". .
see above.
but probably what matters (whether or not Young Master Sweatshirt will ever
find justice) is that, in some small way, there is an Earl Sweatshirt inside all of us,
a young, smart, idiot being lectured at a youth camp in Samoa about why making
hit singles about raping people or eating their sandwiches or whatever
isn't cool.
In this sort of climate, calling you baby, a term I've always thought was sorta creepy
or at least weird, seems not so bad. Almost Heroic, even. There is a baby inside
everyone, not in a cannibal way, but in the way that potentially, we are all someone's
baby, or could be, if we could only lose weight or get muscles or knew how
to dance dances from tropical climate. It is this thought that makes
this other thought-- that when he returns Sweatshirt will be born-again and they'll change
their name to God Future (skaleluia!)like so many of us, but
ultimately (baby)
there is a war going on, which is like saying that there is a sky above
and a ground below in terms of novelty but why not be reminded
and baby, I guess what I'm really trying to say
is that the best thing about mainstream church culture
is the food, obviously
but the second best thing
clearly are the puns.
In the end, it doesn't really matter what Earl Sweatshirt is doing.
What matters is the idea of Earl Sweatshirt, and that he's done something so
awesome, so subversive, that at sixteen he is a martyr for a cause, like
the West Memphis Three-in-one, a derangedly real manifestation of outsider art, that
he is someone to "Free." This is kind of a healthy rallying point, I suppose,
that get-free urge, no matter, almost whom (give us barabbas!) you're opting to free;
most other high volume chants start with "fuck" or "destroy" or at least "give us". .
see above.
but probably what matters (whether or not Young Master Sweatshirt will ever
find justice) is that, in some small way, there is an Earl Sweatshirt inside all of us,
a young, smart, idiot being lectured at a youth camp in Samoa about why making
hit singles about raping people or eating their sandwiches or whatever
isn't cool.
In this sort of climate, calling you baby, a term I've always thought was sorta creepy
or at least weird, seems not so bad. Almost Heroic, even. There is a baby inside
everyone, not in a cannibal way, but in the way that potentially, we are all someone's
baby, or could be, if we could only lose weight or get muscles or knew how
to dance dances from tropical climate. It is this thought that makes
this other thought-- that when he returns Sweatshirt will be born-again and they'll change
their name to God Future (skaleluia!)like so many of us, but
ultimately (baby)
there is a war going on, which is like saying that there is a sky above
and a ground below in terms of novelty but why not be reminded
and baby, I guess what I'm really trying to say
is that the best thing about mainstream church culture
is the food, obviously
but the second best thing
clearly are the puns.
Sunday, 11 April 2010
Nanowripomo (more more more)
(In response to SCB(BHMED)
Ask yourself again, waiting in line for coffee
three minutes late for work
Ask yourself again on the plane ride over
once the buildings disappear
all that are left are clouds
and movies starring
jessica alba and a talking dog.
Ask yourself when Home comes
Sign the date on the rent check
you've not filed, depending on the kindness
of parents, friends, siblings.
Ask yourself when you are too tired
to finish a chapter
of the classic novel
you should have read by now.
Ask yourself when the seven is
rolling like squares and your eyelids are crumbling city halls.
Keep yourself in check when you want to proclaim
the end of bad habits, the ways you like to love, the crash courses
you claim you've completed. Ask yourself again how long it will take
when you cannot stop the chatter wearing down your ears,
when your knees give way on everyday hills that turned downward escalators.
Satans Hands of Hats or
All I Ever Wanted to Know About Macrame Remains a Mystery
It'll burn your hair clean off,
the way they throw the drambuie in this place.
across the room like a frisbee
(if you can dodge a flaming drink, you can dodge a ball)
"I don't know why we come here," she says everytime,
though she's the driver.
We danced when there was the bone-music,
the head-swivel rock.
We billed the waiters for their poor service
and vomited on the still-young
indoor rhodedendrons, but they shook us down
for the last scrags of change
their ever-widening eyes nothing but wheels of rotating flame
we tipped our wigs to the devil in the corner,
who knew he was such a good accordionist?
Holy, Holy, Holy (sing along now)
or I Responded to the Altar Call and All I Got Was this Stifling, Guilt-Inducing Relationship
They have such reverent stances. Fresh blue tennis-shoes on
convention hall carpet. The boys in the worship band used
to be bartenders, espresso machines, hired killers, but now
their freshly-strung guitars and eyes-half-closed toward heaven
beckon you forward, after, they do the conversion strut,
would high-five if it weren't so worldly.
They drink stouts over bible studies, where they bear the weight
of the lost around them with deep sad brown eyes, don't suscribe to
a theology allowing jokes, there is no time for joy not derived
from the sharp curves of their arms on acoustic guitars,
their plate-passing, their entire bodies are the cross, the nails,
you can make them holy
and when they walk with you, you are the bride of christ,
the heat of their hands burns hot into your side, when you
pass other men they draw you tight like lost little lambs,
faces imploring you to ask them about their tears; they quote
St Augustine or Shane Claiborne and have money set aside
for charity once house payments are done.
Ask yourself again, waiting in line for coffee
three minutes late for work
Ask yourself again on the plane ride over
once the buildings disappear
all that are left are clouds
and movies starring
jessica alba and a talking dog.
Ask yourself when Home comes
Sign the date on the rent check
you've not filed, depending on the kindness
of parents, friends, siblings.
Ask yourself when you are too tired
to finish a chapter
of the classic novel
you should have read by now.
Ask yourself when the seven is
rolling like squares and your eyelids are crumbling city halls.
Keep yourself in check when you want to proclaim
the end of bad habits, the ways you like to love, the crash courses
you claim you've completed. Ask yourself again how long it will take
when you cannot stop the chatter wearing down your ears,
when your knees give way on everyday hills that turned downward escalators.
Satans Hands of Hats or
All I Ever Wanted to Know About Macrame Remains a Mystery
It'll burn your hair clean off,
the way they throw the drambuie in this place.
across the room like a frisbee
(if you can dodge a flaming drink, you can dodge a ball)
"I don't know why we come here," she says everytime,
though she's the driver.
We danced when there was the bone-music,
the head-swivel rock.
We billed the waiters for their poor service
and vomited on the still-young
indoor rhodedendrons, but they shook us down
for the last scrags of change
their ever-widening eyes nothing but wheels of rotating flame
we tipped our wigs to the devil in the corner,
who knew he was such a good accordionist?
Holy, Holy, Holy (sing along now)
or I Responded to the Altar Call and All I Got Was this Stifling, Guilt-Inducing Relationship
They have such reverent stances. Fresh blue tennis-shoes on
convention hall carpet. The boys in the worship band used
to be bartenders, espresso machines, hired killers, but now
their freshly-strung guitars and eyes-half-closed toward heaven
beckon you forward, after, they do the conversion strut,
would high-five if it weren't so worldly.
They drink stouts over bible studies, where they bear the weight
of the lost around them with deep sad brown eyes, don't suscribe to
a theology allowing jokes, there is no time for joy not derived
from the sharp curves of their arms on acoustic guitars,
their plate-passing, their entire bodies are the cross, the nails,
you can make them holy
and when they walk with you, you are the bride of christ,
the heat of their hands burns hot into your side, when you
pass other men they draw you tight like lost little lambs,
faces imploring you to ask them about their tears; they quote
St Augustine or Shane Claiborne and have money set aside
for charity once house payments are done.
Friday, 8 January 2010
Yeah, sure, Satan rules-- that doesn't mean I can't be practical: Music '09 part 1.
For the first of my ("a few of them") year-retrospectives, I am going to avail you of some music which, for various reasons, I have enjoyed. The following songs may have appeared here before, and very well may again; it is my blog and I do what I want. Some are just songs, others are full-on music videos, but the songs are really the point. I also realised that I wanted to put some Yeah Yeah Yeahs on here, but I already put Metric and The Kills and I can't give too much love to the ladies at one time unless they get used to it. Also, some of these are from 2008 albums, but I first became aware of them in 2009. Tralala. Singles!
So without any further adieu: 2009: The Year In Tracks, as negligently and half-assedly perceived by Graham Isaac
You love this band. I love this band. The Internet loves this band. The Internet Backlash Against This Band loves the availability of such a readily backlashable band. Everyone wins.
This song had so much to do with my life Dec 08-March 09. I miss the part about listening to electro-pop making cultural and contextual sense.
"Sometimes, performing basic tasks or even getting up in the morning can be harder than any sort of social or political change."--R.Johnson.
I hear you, brother.
If, when I was 17, you'd told me I'd be way into a song with a line about "trying to love again" when I was 28, my response possibly would have been "Right, if I live that long." Its kinda cheesy, but I like the concept of regaining things you've let go, and that sometimes its worth the struggle, or that damage isn't irreparable.
I don't, however, particularly like Eddie Vedder's hand gestures in the music video.
The new Neko Case record was really good, but I felt it wasn't quite as compelling as the last two. Still, this is, hands down, one of the best songs to exist in 2009 or beyond.
* sigh *
yay, pop!
. . . and finally, after a list so fraught with omissions, songs I just happened to feel like listening to right this instant and perhaps at no other time in my entire life, I ask you to picture the following: You are Me. I know, pretty awesome deal. But don't get too excited-- 1)you work the worst-paying, near-most abusive job you've worked in your life and you can't change it because 2) your immigration status is in limbo. You want to stay but you know that 3) Your Grand Attempt is a straw-horse. You have many things you want to do, good reasons to stay and despite (because?) of the sorta-shittiness of the town you're in, you feel at home. But you are getting kicked out and 4) in light of these developments, the girl you were with (and really, you know, actually liked) is back with the same guy she spent the last three months complaining about to you.
In short, your life is falling apart, but really all that's for it is to walk slow with your hands in your pocket. This is a good song to do that to.
So without any further adieu: 2009: The Year In Tracks, as negligently and half-assedly perceived by Graham Isaac
You love this band. I love this band. The Internet loves this band. The Internet Backlash Against This Band loves the availability of such a readily backlashable band. Everyone wins.
This song had so much to do with my life Dec 08-March 09. I miss the part about listening to electro-pop making cultural and contextual sense.
"Sometimes, performing basic tasks or even getting up in the morning can be harder than any sort of social or political change."--R.Johnson.
I hear you, brother.
If, when I was 17, you'd told me I'd be way into a song with a line about "trying to love again" when I was 28, my response possibly would have been "Right, if I live that long." Its kinda cheesy, but I like the concept of regaining things you've let go, and that sometimes its worth the struggle, or that damage isn't irreparable.
I don't, however, particularly like Eddie Vedder's hand gestures in the music video.
The new Neko Case record was really good, but I felt it wasn't quite as compelling as the last two. Still, this is, hands down, one of the best songs to exist in 2009 or beyond.
* sigh *
yay, pop!
. . . and finally, after a list so fraught with omissions, songs I just happened to feel like listening to right this instant and perhaps at no other time in my entire life, I ask you to picture the following: You are Me. I know, pretty awesome deal. But don't get too excited-- 1)you work the worst-paying, near-most abusive job you've worked in your life and you can't change it because 2) your immigration status is in limbo. You want to stay but you know that 3) Your Grand Attempt is a straw-horse. You have many things you want to do, good reasons to stay and despite (because?) of the sorta-shittiness of the town you're in, you feel at home. But you are getting kicked out and 4) in light of these developments, the girl you were with (and really, you know, actually liked) is back with the same guy she spent the last three months complaining about to you.
In short, your life is falling apart, but really all that's for it is to walk slow with your hands in your pocket. This is a good song to do that to.
Tuesday, 11 August 2009
From the department of cultural realisations and differences--
Comes 7 Ways you Can Tell You're in Washington State!
7. You go back to a girl's apartment after a night of flirting and drinking, and that apartment is in Seattle.
6. You and your friend are going for a drive and your friend says "hey are those the Olympics?" and you say "Yes," because they are the Olympics, a Washington State mountain range.
5. Looking on a map you can accurately identify the borders to the area that you are in as the State/Province lines to Idaho, Oregon and British Columbia.
4. When you anger someone and they tell you to "go jump in Puget Sound" it is hyperbole simply because it is unlikely you will do so, rather than technically physically impossible.
3. You were legally allowed to vote for Washington State Governor and State Legislators.
2. You go to a refill station in your HYBRID and there's an ESPRESSO stand and the guy there (who has a BEARD) says "Hey, when I'm not working at the ORGANIC FOOD AND GRANOLA CO-OP, I'm in this really hip GRUNGE* BAND." And you're like "Wow, so AM I! Want to go HIKING and FISHING later? We can RECYCLE TOGETHER! I voted for OBAMA and DON'T LIKE SPORTS THAT MUCH!" and you write a gay-rights referendum together, and call it the TOTALLY GAY RIGHTS REFERENDUM because you still have a sense of humour about how liberal you are.
1. Whilst driving on the freeway you pass a sign that says "Welcome to Washington."
*sic
7. You go back to a girl's apartment after a night of flirting and drinking, and that apartment is in Seattle.
6. You and your friend are going for a drive and your friend says "hey are those the Olympics?" and you say "Yes," because they are the Olympics, a Washington State mountain range.
5. Looking on a map you can accurately identify the borders to the area that you are in as the State/Province lines to Idaho, Oregon and British Columbia.
4. When you anger someone and they tell you to "go jump in Puget Sound" it is hyperbole simply because it is unlikely you will do so, rather than technically physically impossible.
3. You were legally allowed to vote for Washington State Governor and State Legislators.
2. You go to a refill station in your HYBRID and there's an ESPRESSO stand and the guy there (who has a BEARD) says "Hey, when I'm not working at the ORGANIC FOOD AND GRANOLA CO-OP, I'm in this really hip GRUNGE* BAND." And you're like "Wow, so AM I! Want to go HIKING and FISHING later? We can RECYCLE TOGETHER! I voted for OBAMA and DON'T LIKE SPORTS THAT MUCH!" and you write a gay-rights referendum together, and call it the TOTALLY GAY RIGHTS REFERENDUM because you still have a sense of humour about how liberal you are.
1. Whilst driving on the freeway you pass a sign that says "Welcome to Washington."
*sic
Wednesday, 22 July 2009
Five things to consider, one week in:
5) the ever-so-slightly larger scale of everything. not just that cars are bigger, or roads are wider, or houses are spaced out to the degree that I've yet to be in a neighbourhood that strikes me as "poor" or "run down". . . simply because at least everyone has a yard. its sort of like comical movie props designed for a large dwarf or an adolescent whose found themselves thrust into maturity like a bouquet of flowers from an awkward suitor into the face of a confused love interest.
6) dude. pizza. dude. see above comment.
7) my new sisters and the way they sort of laugh at my mom but never leave her side, that its already weird to think of my family without them around.
8) visiting my grandmothers. in case you were considering it, you know, for a laugh, lemme say this: don't. have. a stroke. even a small one.
9) been to seattle properly twice now. the first time i saw one person i'd not expected to see. the second time i saw five. been back what? a week? ridiculous.
6) dude. pizza. dude. see above comment.
7) my new sisters and the way they sort of laugh at my mom but never leave her side, that its already weird to think of my family without them around.
8) visiting my grandmothers. in case you were considering it, you know, for a laugh, lemme say this: don't. have. a stroke. even a small one.
9) been to seattle properly twice now. the first time i saw one person i'd not expected to see. the second time i saw five. been back what? a week? ridiculous.
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