http://www.shipsanddip.com/
This is a regular cruise I've been wanting to go on for a few years. It's hosted by the Barenaked Ladies, and features Great Big Sea and a bunch of other cool bands. Last year, one of the Ladies' lead singers left the band, and there was no cruise. I figured that was it; an opportunity blown. But it's back, I'm coming back, and I AM going.
Trouble is, unlike trundling about Newfoundland or jetting off to Cambodia, you can't just go. You have to buy a whole cabin on the cruise ship. So if none of your friends are interested/available, you're SOL. Which I will NOT let happen.
So, if you know a person or two, trustworthy and not TOO unpleasant, who might like to take a short cruise (just long enough to enjoy; not long enough to get sick of it) with some awesome bands, please please please send them my way.
Ports of call this year are Costa Maya and Belize, another reason I'm hellbent on making it happen this year. The last time, they went to the cruise company's private island--super lame, and something I don't want to take a chance on again.
So, again, seriously...your cousin, your grandma, your neighbor's daughter's boyfriend's Roman History professor...I don't really care. I want to set sail with 'em.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
The State of Things
My last weekend in Seoul is ending. It's been another in a long string of Silent Sundays--days when I talk to no one but for a couple of "kamsamnida"s to store clerks. I'm not sorry it's the last.
I've been packing and prepping for about 2 weeks now, but nothing felt particularly different. Personal effects have been disappearing from my apartment and desk at school, my wardrobe has been shrinking, and I've said good bye to a couple friends, all without having any real sense of impending change. This morning, though, I took all the postcards down from my door, and now the place feels officially barren.
5 more days in Seoul. I literally can't believe it.
Not that my apartment is empty, not by any stretch. I've mailed several boxes home, and my suitcases are all bulging, but somehow the effect is to make the room ridiculously cluttered. Where did it all come from??? And, of course, I've been out buying more. If I bring back nothing from Hong Kong, that'll be ideal. I can't really think of anything it's famous for, so hopefully that means I won't feel compelled to have some tangible representation.
Perhaps, too, the busy-ness is keeping me from fully appreciating that the end is near. I've been trolling university websites since May, looking for jobs I might start when I get back. There's been no response from any of them, and I'd just resigned myself to waiting 'til I'm home to look in earnest when THE job, the one I've been using as an example of my perfect situation, was posted: International Student Counselor at the UofR. I plied my connections, got my cover letter done, tweaked my resume...but they have one of those websites where you have to fill in all the information like a Burger King application, so that still awaits. Plus, Nazareth and Keuka have openings for admissions counselors, and that's not to mention the lesson plans I still have to make for my last week of camp, the emails I owe people, the confirmations for my trip next week (and for my flight home, now that I think of it), boxes to mail, cleaning, Gulliver's Travels to finish (what a slog!), my phone to cancel... And oh yeah, I need to set up voice mail on my home phone in case anyone should actually call about aforementioned jobs. It's gonna be a busy week! So, yeah, I'm blogging.
I turned on the air conditioner in my apartment Friday night. It was the first time, with the exception of once when my friends were over. Apparently, 7 weeks is my limit for 86 degrees and 96% humidity. I've never found the idea of living in the tropics particularly appealing, but now I know I couldn't. I love hot weather, but I love variety just as much. Needing a jacket at night sometimes is kind of nice. Trouble is, now I'm getting addicted to being dry, and even more so to the quiet. Ideologically, I think it's better if we do without A/C where possible (as my own quick addiction demonstrates), but emotionally, my biggest beef with air conditioners is being cut off from the world outside. I love the moving air, the sound of the trees, the hum of life going on on the street. I love that sometimes it's sticky and sometimes it's chilly and sometimes the rain mists in. In Seoul, though, I don't love the construction, the shouting, the hacking, the horns, the motorcycles, the clanging metal posts, the truck PAs, and so on. Having had one quiet night, I find myself rationalizing another and another, despite temperatures having dropped a couple of degrees to within tolerable. I knew this might happen. But with only 5 days left, who cares? Now if the person in the parking lot outside would just realize that if the car hasn't started after 15 minutes of cranking, it's not going to...
I do have my notes from Japan, and I do intend to post a bit about it. I have a post about Asian vs. Western education that's been kicking around in my head for a while, too. Watch this space. Nothing may in fact happen, but you never know.
I've been packing and prepping for about 2 weeks now, but nothing felt particularly different. Personal effects have been disappearing from my apartment and desk at school, my wardrobe has been shrinking, and I've said good bye to a couple friends, all without having any real sense of impending change. This morning, though, I took all the postcards down from my door, and now the place feels officially barren.
5 more days in Seoul. I literally can't believe it.
Not that my apartment is empty, not by any stretch. I've mailed several boxes home, and my suitcases are all bulging, but somehow the effect is to make the room ridiculously cluttered. Where did it all come from??? And, of course, I've been out buying more. If I bring back nothing from Hong Kong, that'll be ideal. I can't really think of anything it's famous for, so hopefully that means I won't feel compelled to have some tangible representation.
Perhaps, too, the busy-ness is keeping me from fully appreciating that the end is near. I've been trolling university websites since May, looking for jobs I might start when I get back. There's been no response from any of them, and I'd just resigned myself to waiting 'til I'm home to look in earnest when THE job, the one I've been using as an example of my perfect situation, was posted: International Student Counselor at the UofR. I plied my connections, got my cover letter done, tweaked my resume...but they have one of those websites where you have to fill in all the information like a Burger King application, so that still awaits. Plus, Nazareth and Keuka have openings for admissions counselors, and that's not to mention the lesson plans I still have to make for my last week of camp, the emails I owe people, the confirmations for my trip next week (and for my flight home, now that I think of it), boxes to mail, cleaning, Gulliver's Travels to finish (what a slog!), my phone to cancel... And oh yeah, I need to set up voice mail on my home phone in case anyone should actually call about aforementioned jobs. It's gonna be a busy week! So, yeah, I'm blogging.
I turned on the air conditioner in my apartment Friday night. It was the first time, with the exception of once when my friends were over. Apparently, 7 weeks is my limit for 86 degrees and 96% humidity. I've never found the idea of living in the tropics particularly appealing, but now I know I couldn't. I love hot weather, but I love variety just as much. Needing a jacket at night sometimes is kind of nice. Trouble is, now I'm getting addicted to being dry, and even more so to the quiet. Ideologically, I think it's better if we do without A/C where possible (as my own quick addiction demonstrates), but emotionally, my biggest beef with air conditioners is being cut off from the world outside. I love the moving air, the sound of the trees, the hum of life going on on the street. I love that sometimes it's sticky and sometimes it's chilly and sometimes the rain mists in. In Seoul, though, I don't love the construction, the shouting, the hacking, the horns, the motorcycles, the clanging metal posts, the truck PAs, and so on. Having had one quiet night, I find myself rationalizing another and another, despite temperatures having dropped a couple of degrees to within tolerable. I knew this might happen. But with only 5 days left, who cares? Now if the person in the parking lot outside would just realize that if the car hasn't started after 15 minutes of cranking, it's not going to...
I do have my notes from Japan, and I do intend to post a bit about it. I have a post about Asian vs. Western education that's been kicking around in my head for a while, too. Watch this space. Nothing may in fact happen, but you never know.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Whoa! Check it Out!
Hello? Anyone still checking this blog? Hi Mom, Hi Dad, Hi one random other person I wouldn't suspect. My favorite blogger just resumed posting after a month's hiatus, and has inspired me to try it also.
I'm over my depression, but the urge to write still eludes me. I just don't feel like talking about Korea any more. I had my final to-do list of stuff to get to before I go, and I'm finding now that I don't care if I do it or not. And I say that without drama or Eeyorishness. I'm just done here. I'm satisfied. I feel like it's complete. (or been complited, as the transit card machines would say)
It's occurred to me to blog many times over the last couple of months. I went to a baseball game in May. That was especially fascinating for its platform of comparison. I actually choked up as they started playing and I realized I knew what was going on. It was amazing. I had a whole list of things to talk about surrounding baseball. The main snack is dried squid, which can be in little pieces, or it can be a 3' long, completely flat and foul-smelling thing. How do you carry one of those around? Fans were more involved than they get in the US, and cheerleaders for both teams were present, dancing throughout the game (though there is NO 7th-inning stretch). The most diverting habit is that of the Lotte Giants fans (all teams are named for the corporations that own them, plus an American sports team name--the rendering of "Twins" is amusing), who blow up yellow plastic bags, twist them off, and hook the handles around their ears. They look like low-budget cheeseheads. The game I went to was really exciting--the first batter up hit a home run--and I've been trying to get to another one, but have failed to appease the rain gods. We'll see.
In June, I went to Lotte World, Korea's answer (perhaps I should say "echo") to Disneyland. Of course, the climate here is more like Cleveland than California, so half the park is inside. Swinging on a pirate ship ride toward hotel room windows is odd. Lotte World's use of space is incredible. The whole park is nestled right in the middle of the city, and you wouldn't particularly notice it. It takes up less space than your average mall parking lot, but has enough attractions to easily fill a day and more. And the rides were FANTASTIC. Some were such blatant Disney knockoffs it was almost comforting, while others were unlike any I've ever been on. Our favorite was Atlantis, a roller coaster where the cars are like sitting on a motorcycle; I both feared and loved another one where we sat at the bottom of a huge pendulum simultaneously spinning and swinging (and our chicken friends waiting on the other side knew when we were getting on the ride because the safety announcement was suddenly in English); and I tried the Gyro drop, which swirls you up a massive pole, feet dangling, before bringing you down via free fall. A really fun day, lots of great Konglish, and probably worth its own post.
And then, amid a lot of other things probably worth mentioning, there's today--the last day of classes! I never have to teach again and I'm going to Japan tomorrow. No comprende. Actually, there is camp yet, and I really don't envision a life without teaching at all, but it still is a momentous day. I will actually miss the kids. For the most part, I won't miss trying to control them and impart information, but I will miss seeing them, being greeted in the halls, joking around with them, and hearing all the wonderful things they come up with to say. I love these kids, especially the 3rd graders, whom I've taught all year, and it's poignant to think that they're just going to disappear from my life (or I from theirs, as the case may be).
So for the next 3 weeks, I'll be teaching half days and half classes, with no co-teacher. Since I know what I'm getting into this time (as compared to winter break), I'm crossing my fingers for smooth sailing. 3 weeks (technically 5 'til I leave, but I've got some vacation time) is ample opportunity for more surprises and snubs, but I'm really almost done! And...I don't have to eat school cafeteria food any more!!! That alone is worth a party. If I could go back in time, I'd visit my elementary school cafeteria and tell my 8-year-old self to enjoy it while I could--I'd later find out how much worse it can get.
Headed to Tokyo for 4 days...I promise to think about blogging something.
I'm over my depression, but the urge to write still eludes me. I just don't feel like talking about Korea any more. I had my final to-do list of stuff to get to before I go, and I'm finding now that I don't care if I do it or not. And I say that without drama or Eeyorishness. I'm just done here. I'm satisfied. I feel like it's complete. (or been complited, as the transit card machines would say)
It's occurred to me to blog many times over the last couple of months. I went to a baseball game in May. That was especially fascinating for its platform of comparison. I actually choked up as they started playing and I realized I knew what was going on. It was amazing. I had a whole list of things to talk about surrounding baseball. The main snack is dried squid, which can be in little pieces, or it can be a 3' long, completely flat and foul-smelling thing. How do you carry one of those around? Fans were more involved than they get in the US, and cheerleaders for both teams were present, dancing throughout the game (though there is NO 7th-inning stretch). The most diverting habit is that of the Lotte Giants fans (all teams are named for the corporations that own them, plus an American sports team name--the rendering of "Twins" is amusing), who blow up yellow plastic bags, twist them off, and hook the handles around their ears. They look like low-budget cheeseheads. The game I went to was really exciting--the first batter up hit a home run--and I've been trying to get to another one, but have failed to appease the rain gods. We'll see.
In June, I went to Lotte World, Korea's answer (perhaps I should say "echo") to Disneyland. Of course, the climate here is more like Cleveland than California, so half the park is inside. Swinging on a pirate ship ride toward hotel room windows is odd. Lotte World's use of space is incredible. The whole park is nestled right in the middle of the city, and you wouldn't particularly notice it. It takes up less space than your average mall parking lot, but has enough attractions to easily fill a day and more. And the rides were FANTASTIC. Some were such blatant Disney knockoffs it was almost comforting, while others were unlike any I've ever been on. Our favorite was Atlantis, a roller coaster where the cars are like sitting on a motorcycle; I both feared and loved another one where we sat at the bottom of a huge pendulum simultaneously spinning and swinging (and our chicken friends waiting on the other side knew when we were getting on the ride because the safety announcement was suddenly in English); and I tried the Gyro drop, which swirls you up a massive pole, feet dangling, before bringing you down via free fall. A really fun day, lots of great Konglish, and probably worth its own post.
And then, amid a lot of other things probably worth mentioning, there's today--the last day of classes! I never have to teach again and I'm going to Japan tomorrow. No comprende. Actually, there is camp yet, and I really don't envision a life without teaching at all, but it still is a momentous day. I will actually miss the kids. For the most part, I won't miss trying to control them and impart information, but I will miss seeing them, being greeted in the halls, joking around with them, and hearing all the wonderful things they come up with to say. I love these kids, especially the 3rd graders, whom I've taught all year, and it's poignant to think that they're just going to disappear from my life (or I from theirs, as the case may be).
So for the next 3 weeks, I'll be teaching half days and half classes, with no co-teacher. Since I know what I'm getting into this time (as compared to winter break), I'm crossing my fingers for smooth sailing. 3 weeks (technically 5 'til I leave, but I've got some vacation time) is ample opportunity for more surprises and snubs, but I'm really almost done! And...I don't have to eat school cafeteria food any more!!! That alone is worth a party. If I could go back in time, I'd visit my elementary school cafeteria and tell my 8-year-old self to enjoy it while I could--I'd later find out how much worse it can get.
Headed to Tokyo for 4 days...I promise to think about blogging something.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Do you know World Cup?
You may not realize that the World Cup tournament is currently going on in South Africa. It's like the Olympics, but without the American media. Or like the rest of the world's Super Bowl. (do I have to pay royalties to write that?) Korea's in it, and...gosh, it's hard to even mention sports without immediately sinking into a morass of cliches. World Cup fever is sweeping the nation. It means so much to this tiny country. You just can't help but get caught up in it!
Actually, that last sentence was quite literally true last night. I went with a couple of friends to City Hall Plaza, one of many sites where the game was being screened. You could tell when you were getting close because vendors of light-up devil horns started to blend together, and the line at KFC could kill your appetite if the chicken didn't. I was sorely tempted to buy a "We're 12th Player" t-shirt, but if I wore it to a Bills game, I'd just look retarded. Convenience stores had iced beer at the front door in a very efficient form of crowd control, and squid and pre-cut fruit were in abundance.
We showed up just in time for kickoff, so were relegated to the back of the crowd...fine, because the claustrophobia was intense. There were no chairs, but everyone spontaneously decided to sit down, so we all plonked down, Indian-style or criss-cross-applesauce (depending on when you grew up), right there in the street. Made me nostalgic for elementary-school assemblies. The great thing about elementary school was that you could sit there on the gym floor and watch the proceedings unaccosted, without anyone resting their leg against your back (come on people, it's 89 degrees; if you wanted to cuddle, why didn't you say so when I was hypothermic on New Year's Eve?), whacking you in the head with rigid handbags (no matter how many times you shoved the thing away), or dong-chimming you with their hooker heels (I was fortunate to be in the last row of people sitting, with the usual pushing & stiff-arming going on at my back). One couple kept letting their little flag hang in my sightline so it perfectly obscured the screen; at least I wasn't the guy 2 rows ahead who sat impassively as it covered his face time and time again. A sudden wet spot on my head turned out to be merely a passing water bottle fresh out of a cooler. I was more concerned with where the loogies were going. And God forbid someone should feel sick...the plaza was acres of devil horns with no space in between; anyone who needed to make a quick getaway simply couldn't. I lasted through the entire first half, not minding my sleeping leg so much, but in increasing agony over my jackknifed back. Finally, Korea scored as the first half died; everyone stood up to cheer, then forgot that they were ever sitting.
Just like at the baseball game I never blogged about, the Koreans expressed their enthusiasm by banging inflatable plastic tubes together, and spontaneously bursting into songs...all of which have familiar tunes, and, for that matter, familiar lyrics, since I've heard the word "Korea" before. Bet you didn't know that "Dae han min guk gloria" were the words to Beethoven's 9th.
Ultimately, they lost (to Argentina, who one of my kids told me is going to win the Cup), but we had long since started wandering the city, stopping to check in at every screen along the sidewalk, musing at the knot of people around a tiny tv in the subway station. It was a fabulous night to be outside, and I'm glad to be spending the World Cup where people care (I have a knack for this; I was in England for the festivities in '98, and even caught a good deal of the action in '06 by nannying for a soccer-crazed 11-year-old).
I skipped out on the first game, where Korea beat Greece, because it was cold and raining, but I could hear the elated screaming and the celebratory vomiting from my apartment. There's one more guaranteed game, but it's in the wee hours, so that'll be it for me unless Korea advances (which they could). Crap, it just occurred to me I'll probably still hear the screaming and vomiting for the wee hours game. Lifelong memories, these.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Why Johnny Can't Blog
I've been gone for over a year now. I think I can readily say that it's been the most difficult year of my life. I've been looking back at some of my posts from Colorado, and I'm surprised at how chipper they seem. Things had already gotten trying by this time last June, but I was excited about Korea, hopeful about how the summer might still play out, and curious about everything. Now I'm just tired. I've been needled frequently about posting more often, and I've truly meant to. There's a roster of things to talk about in my calendar, and 'blog' is on every to-do list I've made for months. I want to do it, want to keep a record and share all these observations I'm still making. But most of the time, I just don't have the heart to write.
This is what defeat feels like. Last week, as I ran dialogues with every kid I teach, was the final (or not...there always seems to be more shit, no matter how much you've waded through already) proof that what I'm doing here is futile, and my approach to it pitifully ineffectual. Very, very few of the kids understand anything I say. Even fewer care. Most of my co-teachers are desperately overworked and down to their last nerve, and I'm just one more mosquito in their ear. As I've known with quiet certainty for 11 years now, I'm not a classroom teacher. "If you're neither learning nor contributing, use your two feet and move on." But I can't yet. Not for 9 weeks. (10 if they screw with my vacation, which is always a distinct possibility in Korea)
So there's nothing else for it but to show up every day and make a game attempt, although I'm losing my spirit for that, too. Some days are not so bad, some are. Most classes consist of 2-3 kids who are listening and reacting, 4 or 5 who are mocking and cutting up, 6 or 7 who are sleeping, and 15 or so who are chatting with their friends. It's not rewarding work.
Funny thing is, I still want to work with kids. Just not in a classroom. This is really not my scene. And not in a place where everything happens TO me. I'm looking forward to being an agent in my own life again.
So in the swirl of weariness, frustration, humiliation, and resentment, I don't have many words. I'd envisioned writing letters and postcards, talking about more than 'What I Did Last Weekend', keeping a second blog that would be worthy of touting to schools, answering emails that I get... I'd envisioned feeling really enthusiastic & alive, adventurous and fulfilled. Gifts don't always come in the box we expected. One of my mantras during the last year has been, "Even if you hate it, it'll be one of the most important experiences of your life." And I don't HATE it. Not usually. But it has been a critically important experience, and I'm not at all sorry I've done any of it. I wish I was a better teacher, I wish it was over just a little bit sooner, but none of that is going to burn forever. I've taken the measure of myself, and it's not as flattering as I would have fancied. I feel that I'm at the crest of a mountain, and something new and pretty amazing is about to open up in front of me. If I can just hold myself together until it does...
This is what defeat feels like. Last week, as I ran dialogues with every kid I teach, was the final (or not...there always seems to be more shit, no matter how much you've waded through already) proof that what I'm doing here is futile, and my approach to it pitifully ineffectual. Very, very few of the kids understand anything I say. Even fewer care. Most of my co-teachers are desperately overworked and down to their last nerve, and I'm just one more mosquito in their ear. As I've known with quiet certainty for 11 years now, I'm not a classroom teacher. "If you're neither learning nor contributing, use your two feet and move on." But I can't yet. Not for 9 weeks. (10 if they screw with my vacation, which is always a distinct possibility in Korea)
So there's nothing else for it but to show up every day and make a game attempt, although I'm losing my spirit for that, too. Some days are not so bad, some are. Most classes consist of 2-3 kids who are listening and reacting, 4 or 5 who are mocking and cutting up, 6 or 7 who are sleeping, and 15 or so who are chatting with their friends. It's not rewarding work.
Funny thing is, I still want to work with kids. Just not in a classroom. This is really not my scene. And not in a place where everything happens TO me. I'm looking forward to being an agent in my own life again.
So in the swirl of weariness, frustration, humiliation, and resentment, I don't have many words. I'd envisioned writing letters and postcards, talking about more than 'What I Did Last Weekend', keeping a second blog that would be worthy of touting to schools, answering emails that I get... I'd envisioned feeling really enthusiastic & alive, adventurous and fulfilled. Gifts don't always come in the box we expected. One of my mantras during the last year has been, "Even if you hate it, it'll be one of the most important experiences of your life." And I don't HATE it. Not usually. But it has been a critically important experience, and I'm not at all sorry I've done any of it. I wish I was a better teacher, I wish it was over just a little bit sooner, but none of that is going to burn forever. I've taken the measure of myself, and it's not as flattering as I would have fancied. I feel that I'm at the crest of a mountain, and something new and pretty amazing is about to open up in front of me. If I can just hold myself together until it does...
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
"Come and play with us, Danny"
I'm not at school today because it's Election Day, and for that I am intensely grateful. I'm less grateful for the sensory onslaught that is Korean campaigning, although, to beat this theme to a pulp, I'm grateful for the chance to see it, and also that it doesn't last anywhere near as long as it does in the US.
I believe I heard that there's only an Election Day every 4 years (though the presidential term is 5 and they're not voting on him--that must be a different thing), so I'm lucky to be here in an 'on' year. From what I can tell, the election is for every office other than president...city, district, local...provincial? (not being able to read more than the names on the signs, I'm a bit underinformed)
Whether the start date is by decree, I don't know, but there was a big bang and suddenly campaigning was everywhere, comprised (whether in Gyeongju, Cheongju, or Seoul) of 3 main components:
1. Posters and banners. The banners are strung up between posts at every intersection, and the posters line every wall, one bordering the next in a tight collage that echoes the people themselves. A patchwork picturing candidates in various "action" poses...brandishing a pen, making an 'open arms' gesture, beckoning the viewer...reminiscent of the cloying head shots Newsweek adopted for its columnists a few years back. My EEP students last week were doing creative writing, about what they would do if they were invisible, and one boy (who I really have always liked) finished with, "and I use a scissors and cut election announcement paper. Because they have so many space. Also they look like dirty things."
2. Loudspeakers on trucks. Usually the domain of fruit vendors and religious proselytizers, these have all been co-opted by the candidates, the volume cranked to 11, and set to roam the streets blasting songs with tunes like 'Mary had a little lamb' and 'If you're happy and you know it', with new lyrics presumably detailing the person's fitness for office. These are catchy enough that I've accidentally learned a few of the candidates' names. I must have spent a bit of karma because none of them have parked outside my window, a miserable fate that elicits my profound sympathy for anyone it was visited upon. (the aforementioned student also planned to take advantage of his invisibility to "use a needle and prick wheel of election campaign cars. Because they are so noisy." Good kid.)
3. Dancing ajummas. An ajumma, for those of you who haven't heard me use the term, is a lady somewhere between middle age and dotage. They're iconic in Korea, known for attitudes worthy of a DeNiro movie, clothes with lively patterns, and a vampirish aversion to sun. And for wages that could never possibly be enough, they've been donning sashes and white gloves and dancing for hours on street corners. If it rains, they throw clear plastic ponchos over the getup and keep at it. Strangely, my neighborhood hasn't gone in much for the dancing, preferring instead an eerie chanting (inspiring the title of this post). Several packs of them stand at the subway station entrance droning couplets at 5-second intervals (rhyming in Korean is easy because every sentence ends with "ib ni da" or some variation). There's one candidate who has braces and employs not ajummas, but young people who hold his picture over their faces and talk on cell phones behind it. Going to the subway is creepy enough, but the lot that station themselves across the street from my apartment could drive me to distraction. I look forward to abandoning the ritual of getting up at 6 to close the window.
I believe I heard that there's only an Election Day every 4 years (though the presidential term is 5 and they're not voting on him--that must be a different thing), so I'm lucky to be here in an 'on' year. From what I can tell, the election is for every office other than president...city, district, local...provincial? (not being able to read more than the names on the signs, I'm a bit underinformed)
Whether the start date is by decree, I don't know, but there was a big bang and suddenly campaigning was everywhere, comprised (whether in Gyeongju, Cheongju, or Seoul) of 3 main components:
1. Posters and banners. The banners are strung up between posts at every intersection, and the posters line every wall, one bordering the next in a tight collage that echoes the people themselves. A patchwork picturing candidates in various "action" poses...brandishing a pen, making an 'open arms' gesture, beckoning the viewer...reminiscent of the cloying head shots Newsweek adopted for its columnists a few years back. My EEP students last week were doing creative writing, about what they would do if they were invisible, and one boy (who I really have always liked) finished with, "and I use a scissors and cut election announcement paper. Because they have so many space. Also they look like dirty things."
2. Loudspeakers on trucks. Usually the domain of fruit vendors and religious proselytizers, these have all been co-opted by the candidates, the volume cranked to 11, and set to roam the streets blasting songs with tunes like 'Mary had a little lamb' and 'If you're happy and you know it', with new lyrics presumably detailing the person's fitness for office. These are catchy enough that I've accidentally learned a few of the candidates' names. I must have spent a bit of karma because none of them have parked outside my window, a miserable fate that elicits my profound sympathy for anyone it was visited upon. (the aforementioned student also planned to take advantage of his invisibility to "use a needle and prick wheel of election campaign cars. Because they are so noisy." Good kid.)
3. Dancing ajummas. An ajumma, for those of you who haven't heard me use the term, is a lady somewhere between middle age and dotage. They're iconic in Korea, known for attitudes worthy of a DeNiro movie, clothes with lively patterns, and a vampirish aversion to sun. And for wages that could never possibly be enough, they've been donning sashes and white gloves and dancing for hours on street corners. If it rains, they throw clear plastic ponchos over the getup and keep at it. Strangely, my neighborhood hasn't gone in much for the dancing, preferring instead an eerie chanting (inspiring the title of this post). Several packs of them stand at the subway station entrance droning couplets at 5-second intervals (rhyming in Korean is easy because every sentence ends with "ib ni da" or some variation). There's one candidate who has braces and employs not ajummas, but young people who hold his picture over their faces and talk on cell phones behind it. Going to the subway is creepy enough, but the lot that station themselves across the street from my apartment could drive me to distraction. I look forward to abandoning the ritual of getting up at 6 to close the window.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
100!
Sorry for the long lapse...my muse died.
I've actually been in a better frame of mind for the last week, but I ran off to Gyeongju for the holiday weekend (the holiday being Buddha's Birthday), and now have family in town (!), so the time to sit in my apartment and bear a blog hasn't been available. So, my apologies if you're disappointed, but you'll have to wait a bit longer for a "real" entry.
I do need to mark the occasion, though. The name of this blog refers to the 500 nights from the time I last slept in my own bed until I return to it. As it turns out, the whole thing will only be in the ballpark of 460 nights, give or take a bed, since my original plan to backpack around southeast Asia has long since revealed itself to be folly, but nonetheless, as of today, May 27, there are 100 nights left!
88 til I'm again on American soil, 98 til my first night in Rochester, and 100 until I sink into my own soft mattress for the first time in way too long. Still seems interminable, but at least it's starting to feel like it'll really happen one day.
So stay tuned; I'll be back...
I've actually been in a better frame of mind for the last week, but I ran off to Gyeongju for the holiday weekend (the holiday being Buddha's Birthday), and now have family in town (!), so the time to sit in my apartment and bear a blog hasn't been available. So, my apologies if you're disappointed, but you'll have to wait a bit longer for a "real" entry.
I do need to mark the occasion, though. The name of this blog refers to the 500 nights from the time I last slept in my own bed until I return to it. As it turns out, the whole thing will only be in the ballpark of 460 nights, give or take a bed, since my original plan to backpack around southeast Asia has long since revealed itself to be folly, but nonetheless, as of today, May 27, there are 100 nights left!
88 til I'm again on American soil, 98 til my first night in Rochester, and 100 until I sink into my own soft mattress for the first time in way too long. Still seems interminable, but at least it's starting to feel like it'll really happen one day.
So stay tuned; I'll be back...
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