Things I saw while riding through the Cambodian countryside on a tuk tuk

A tuk tuk, if you're wondering, is a motorcycle pulling a carriage. They're the more humane replacement to old-school rickshaws/cyclos. And for those of us who aren't crazy about zipping around ON the motorcycle. Anyway, I've spent a LOT of time in the countryside over the last 2 days--more stories than I have time to post here, though maybe I'll fill in a bit later. But here are some of the more arresting sights:

--1 cat, and more dogs & chickens than I could ever count. The dogs are all lactating, and they all lay as if dead in the red dirt. The chickens all have a ton of babies, too.

--lots of people in pajamas. I'm not sure whether they were manufactured as such, but it's sure what they look like. Although Cambodia never gets cold, most people over 10 wear long sleeves & long pants all the time.

--motorcycles with entire families on them. In Phnom Penh, the driver is usually wearing a helmet, but here nobody does. The kids stand on the seat between the parents, squat between the driver's legs, or, if they're really little, cling to the driver chimp style.

--gas sold in old pop or liquor bottles

--coconut husks all over the place

--snail (?) vendors. The shells are spread out on screen-type things that remind me of what we used at Antietam to sift for artifacts. Did I mention that I also saw street vendors selling beetles and other insects? Still more appetizing than bundaegi!

--temples. Some of the farther flung Angkor temples are surrounded by huts, and are just an everyday part of people's lives. At one, a baby played while her brother slept in a doorway. Kids laughed and chased each other over ruins, and on top of one pyramid, two little boys laughed and showed off for the tourists.

--lots of huts suspended over the river, many with balcony pigpens

--a kid driving a cart pulled by two white oxen

--swarms of kids in school uniforms (they look just like the Mercy one), pedaling bikes taller than they are

--tons of kids waving. They're insanely cute, especially when they're not trying to get money out of you. Even tiny ones crack a big smile and wave when they see foreigners, and the older ones often yell "Hello!"

A couple other interesting events:
-I got dollars out of an ATM for the first time in months. The Cambodian currency, the riel, is so devalued (though there are possibly other reasons) that American dollars are used for most everything. There aren't any American coins, though--or any coins at all, for that matter--so riel is given if your change is less than $1. It's about 4000 riel to the dollar, so a 1000 riel note is equivalent to a quarter.

-In Korea, I keep hearing about these places where you put your feet in a pool of fish and the fish eat all the dead skin. Everyone says they want to try it, but I've never actually seen it on offer. Here it's everywhere, always called Dr. Fish. I figure there's no way I'll find it in Korea for $2, so I tried it. It tickles insanely, but it seems to have been pretty effective, and was an interesting diversion to boot.

-Angkor Wat was pretty awesome. I'll post pics when I'm back. Going back for the 3rd day tomorrow to see sunrise, and the temples that are all overgrown. Then I've got one day with absolutely nothing to do, back to Phnom Penh on Saturday, and then time for some sightseeing before my plane leaves on Sunday. The week has felt incredibly long, but suddenly it seems there's not much left. Getting back to Korea will actually be kind of relaxing, but, while I'm glad to have winter, going back to jackets & hats doesn't hold much appeal. If only my hotel window opened...

Cambodian Countryside

Wow, take away anything else to do and I'm blogging like a fiend! I didn't do an outline tonight, though, so we'll see which stray thoughts surface as I speed through another entry.

Took the bus to Siem Reap today. I was going to stay in Phnom Penh until tomorrow, but didn't think I wanted to. Then changed my mind, but still, there's so much I want to do in Siem Reap, decided just to forge ahead. I can always go back to PP early if I choose.

Walked through the market and had a traditional Khmer breakfast of noodle soup, squatting on a plastic stool with a bunch of Cambodians. I don't do things like that often enough.

They have signs on butcher shops here depicting ducks, pigs, cows, chickens, and dogs. Usually some hopelessly friendly looking golden retriever or something equally unlikely to stoke your appetite. I was really alarmed when I walked past a cluster of people eating at a street stand and saw a picture of a cat and dog above them. Fortunately, I then noticed the English on the sign: Änimal Health Clinic. Just a coincidence. Maybe.

I've often said that if you wanted to see real differences between countries, you should have traveled 100 years ago. Everything is the same now. Not everywhere, apparently. Outside of Phnom Penh, I doubt much has changed for centuries. We saw all the quintessential things: houses on stilts, built of scrap wood or palm leaves; farmers with wooden plows pulled by those white, bumpy cattle (though one plow had car tires on it); scooters and carts piled high with goods & trucks overflowing with people; huge piles of hay in every yard; rice paddies and palm trees... It was fantastic. Probably could have done with a few hours less, but neat to see all the same. I really can't imagine the lives these people live, though the more I thought about it, the easier it became. If I offered them a plane ticket and a new life in America, would they want it? Perhaps not. They may not have the slick entertainment we do, but they also don't spend most of their time on consumption. Is that something to pity?

My guesthouse in Siem Reap is quite nice, if far removed from the attractive district. I didn't eat all day, so I took the first restaurant I found tonight (and got oily stir fry...could've been worse), but I'll be more selective from now on. Refused to make a deal with the pushy tuk tuk driver for seeing the temples tomorrow, but maybe I should have. He seemed a little gormless, though, and I'd like one who knows all the best stuff to see. Also wanted to check my email again to see what the going rate for a day is. I overpaid for the killing fields, which I sort of suspected.

Normally I like traveling alone (or am ok with it anyway), but it's been a bit of a burden this trip. Haven't found anyone to talk to today at all, and the guesthouse is set up more like a hotel than a hostel, greatly decreasing my chances of befriending anyone. As with many things: next time, I'll know. I'm glad I decided to do one week, one country for this trip. A good intro to the rest of the world.

First Impressions

I'm working with a terrible keyboard and paying by the minute, so if this blog is riddled with typos, it's staying that way.

Cambodia was overwhelming at first, but I'm calibrating and warming up to it (easy to do when it's 80 degrees--I love summer nights!). It looks just like the Vietnam movies, and is truly a different world, full of skinny animals, naked children, people with stunning deformities, and Toyotas. I'd estimate 95% of the cars on the road are Toyotas. The rest are Lexuses, which my dinner companions and I were trying (unsuccessfully) to explain.

Speaking of the streets, they are totally insane. Korea is easy by comparison. They flow like arteries, with things moving fluidly through in no particular arrangement. Roads are shared by cars, tuk tuks, mopeds, bikes, carts, and people. Crossing is a duck and run kind of proposition. A handful of intersections do have lights, which come with a digital countdown for both red & green, and an animated walk sign (a green guy running). They say you can't walk in this town, but once I started doing it, I liked the place a lot better.

This afternoon, I was coopted by a hard-selling tuk tuk driver, who took me to the killing fields, where I wasn't necessarily intending to go. It was pretty horrific, but hard to grasp what really happened, especially in my already agitated state of mind. There were bones everywhere, teeth in a glass, and one section of path roped off because bones were surfacing through the dirt. I find it even harder to fathom than the Holocaust. I bought "First They Killed My Father", which was a bestseller in the US. It came in a plastic bag, which I've become used to in Korea, but in this case, it was so that I didn't notice the whole thing is photocopied. At least it's all there, it only cost $6 (the seller probably thinks he got a great deal, but so do I), and it's a very authentic souvenir.

My tuk tuk driver left me at the river promenade, which is when I started having fun. I ate al fresco at an Indian restaurant--a tourist splurge at $6/plate, but it was yummy, and I was joined by an older Australian couple who've been touring SE Asia for 10 weeks now. They were ready to leave Phnom Penh the first day (they stay a week in each place), but got used to it and quite like it. And they can't understand why Americans don't provide health care for everyone. I was SO happy to talk to someone...think it's been about 2 weeks since I really did. They almost convinced me to change my mind back about leaving for Siem Reap in the morning (I was originally going to stay in PP for another day). I found some nice things on my walk back to the guesthouse (soft beds! I'm lovin' it!)--the best was a park with a fountain that had some kind of laser/music show going on, and all kinds of Khmers hanging out. More promising parts of town, too.

BTW, I loved Hong Kong. The whole waking hour I was there. I slept in a windowless concrete cell in a tenement, but it was a NICE windowless concrete cell in a tenement. I loved the mountains, the ships, the British touches, and the fact that it actually looked like somewhere different (as opposed to Seoul, which is just America sans aesthetics). Gotta go back. Their money is cool, too. Ended up with a $20 bill left over as a souvenir.

Probably can't post pics til I get back. Haven't been able to photograph the most interesting stuff, anyway (although I did get a shot of the elephant walking down the street at dinner). Here's hoping the 6-hour bus ride tomorrow isn't a little slice of hell.

Paid Vacation

I got back yesterday from 4 days in Jejudo, the honeymoon destination of choice for Koreans, and home of an English Village, a popular camp-type thing where kids go for a few days for some English immersion. I don't know how to explain my luck in being allowed to go--it wasn't originally the plan, and staff there told me I'm the first native-speaker teacher they've seen. It was an awesome trip, and while I'd like to do it justice in blogging, I have to leave for the airport in 3 hours, and I'm sure it will be a mere wisp of memory after a week in Cambodia, so no paragraphs or narrative for Jeju.

This was NOT an American field trip. I expected to have to herd the kids, assist with classes, be summoned in the night, etc. Instead, they put us up in a large seaside apartment, took us out for a massive dinner the first night, and left us to explore the island at our leisure.

I do have my suspicions that the place is designed to entertain/educate the kids as expediently as possible, while pampering the teachers so they'll vote to return year after year. The students were far less impressed with their lodging and rations, and the staff were as disgruntled and flailing as any waygook.

I couldn't decide if the camp gets commissions from the crap the kids bought at our tourist trap field trips, or if they just thought that was the essence of a good time. Tuesday was field trip day, and, with the exception of the orange farm, none of our stops were anything I would willingly part with money or moments of my life for:
--the jewelry museum: someone put their grandmother's leftovers in display cases. Granted, I couldn't read the signage, but it was basically just a bunch of costume jewelry, the kind of gems you see in plastic racks at the RMSC gift shop, and pictures of Princess Diana and Audrey Hepburn. The gift shop primarily offered items that said "Hawaii".
--the butterfly museum: I expected the kind of butterfly pavilion so popular in North America, but instead saw a collage made of dead butterflies pinned to the wall, and a maze of dioramas depicting all sorts of bugs in goofy scenes--skiing, training at a gym, engaged in warfare, etc. Upstairs was the truly horrifying part--a bunch of live animals for visitors to accost. I pet one of the cats leashed to cages, then fled.
--the mirror museum?: a large room with 7 or 8 mirrors in various configurations, and a table for playing Jenga (I've learned not to question)
Then, after lunch (bibimbap! the one time I could eat more than rice & spinach in the cafeteria):
--folk village: a whirlwind tour of a traditional house, a black pig pen, and a Jeju totem, followed by a lengthy sales pitch for omija, a customary Jeju drink. I tried the sample, and it was quite good, like apple juice-flavored tea. Somehow, hard selling adolescents with spending money seems sleazy and opportunistic. I cringed at the fistful of won the old lady waved around as she gestured to the departing group. The presence of a dyed dog didn't add to the place's credibility.
--orange farm: this I liked! We basically barnstormed the place, but I got to eat the freshest orange I've ever had. Maybe I was doing it wrong, but they're hard to pick! I tore the peel of every one.
--horseback riding: we took turns cantering around in a circle a few times. Plenty dramatic, though. The horses were not pleased with their fate, and behaved much like my 3rd-graders do in class. The staff put us on them, then let them loose, so there's no way to stop them if they're of a mind to do something else. Mine kicked the horse one of the kids was riding, then took off at full gallop. I think they let us teachers do an extra revolution around the track, for which I was not at all grateful. When we finally rounded on an open gate, my horse headed for the road. Fortunately, they caught him, and when I at last got down, I was only shaking instead of crying like the kids.

Three things Jeju is said to have in abundance: wind, storms, and women
Three things Jeju is said to lack completely: beggars, locks, and thieves

The place actually reminded me quite a bit of Newfoundland. Or Newfoundland and Craters of the Moon's love child, who was adopted by Koreans. It's a traditional fishing island, and the towns are small and all on the shoreline, with boats moored everywhere. The whole thing is volcanic, with Hallasan presiding over the center, and lava rocks are more abundant than puke puddles in Seoul. Basically, Jeju consists of a ring of fishing villages surrounding a landscape of lava cones and agricultural fields (oranges, garlic, and gigantic green radishes), latticed with walls of lava rock. It's gorgeous.

It's warm, too. Not like Hawaii or Cambodia. But, despite frequent wind and rain, temps were in the 50s, and when I set out touring on Wednesday afternoon, I left my jacket behind. A nice little break.

Wednesday, the teachers were free to do as we wished for the whole day. I'd read and heard that you could rent a taxi for the day for $100, and was prepared to part with half of that and to humor Ms. Jeon a bit on the itinerary, but we ended up hiking over the hill to Hamdeok Beach in the morning, then I took the bus on my own to Sunrise Peak in the afternoon. Terrie considered renting a car, but Ms. Jeon said the principal wouldn't like that because she was supposed to be available for the students. So instead, the two of them went on a transportation saga to the other side of the island to see the vaunted Teddy Bear Museum. They were gone for 7 hours. Whatever.

Sunrise Peak was a little like Diamond Head in Waikiki, though less spectacular. It's a 20-minute haul to the top, up hundreds of lava steps, past honeymooning couples taking scores of timer photos, posing with all the glee of an 1890 portrait. The view from the top is pretty cool, of the sea on one side, and the moguled Jeju terrain on the other. Supposedly, you could see haenyeo, Jeju's famed women divers who have been looking for seafood without tanks for generations, but I didn't spot any. Too bad, since the tradition is dying with the women. I loved Jeju enough that I'd like to take a family vacation there when I have kids, but by then, haenyeo will be just something to read about in a museum.

On the bus back, I ended up sitting next to the teacher from a high school that was also at the English Village. He was really friendly and tried to engage me in conversation, but his English was extremely rudimentary. I'm baffled at how people get to be English teachers without being able to have even the most basic of conversations in English, and also grateful that the teachers at my school are of a higher caliber than most.

Things I really liked seeing in Jeju: sandpipers; amazing clear water with many hues, like looking into a geode; pheasants--all over the place though I was never able to get a picture; tide pools where all the shells were alive; roofs of houses like the doors of Dublin, in a striking palette of Crayola colors; fishing boats; the mint chip-evoking fields of green with black walls like English hedgerows.

More crazy Korea: our toilet paper was printed with cute purple giraffes.

Neat trick: at our first night feast, they poured a line of beer glasses, then balanced shot glasses of soju between each beer glass. Someone hit the end shot glass with a chopstick and they all plonked into the beer, creating an odd mixed drink.

Flying in Korea: you can bring liquids on board!! In Jeju, we had to go out on the tarmac by bus and get on the plane the old-fashioned way. We were on Eastar Jet, an Asian budget airline. The planes were cute, decorated on the inside like a kid's room. It was all space and astronauts on the way there; on the way back, it was photos of world attractions with cartoon kids superimposed creatively in each. They were just posing, with the usual two fingers raised, in front of Angkor Wat and Mt. Fuji, but in Venice, they were in a gondola, and the one little imp was trying to push over Pisa's tower with a finger. Eastar may be no-frills, but one service they do offer is taking your photo on the flight, which they'll then email to you. They didn't offer it on the way back, as we were all too busy bouncing, lurching, and screaming.

Gems from the kids:
The airport bathrooms advertised bidets on some of the stall doors, prompting the kids to ask me about how to say it in English. When I didn't understand what they were saying, I was treated to a comprehensive pantomime performance of a bidet's use.

From the kids' letters home posted on the cafeteria wall: "Today we visited a fork museum"

When Lee from Milwaukee got up to address the kids on the bus, talking at full speed in full dialect: "Teacher, you can understand him?"

The trip was great, the sea exhilarating, and I loved spending time with the kids. Now, time to change gears: Hong Kong tonight, Phnom Penh tomorrow. Stay tuned!

Occupation

The shock, awe, and sheer fatigue that was last week pre-empted all my sightseeing plans, so, determined to stick to my schedule, I have stopped watching U2 videos twice this week to go out and learn about Korea's subjugation by Japan in the 1900s.

A summary of what I've learned (or think I've learned--if something sounds wrong, it probably is): the Western world seemed to notice Korea in the later half of the 19th century. China and Japan already knew they were there, but continued to notice them. A lot of countries set up trade treaties, which the xenophobic Koreans were a little uneasy with, but the real problem was the aggressive designs of Japan & Russia (and possibly some others). Korea was at that time beginning to wiggle out from under its feudal system, so the government was at a vulnerable point. The courtship of the Russians was having some success, so in 1895, the Japanese assassinated Korea's pro-Russia princess and dragged her body through the streets of Seoul. There was further grappling, and in 1907, the "Illegal Treaty" was signed, giving Japan some significant trade advantages and port control. I'm a bit fuzzy on what happened next, but by 1910, Korea was a Japanese colony. Many Koreans moved to Russia or China and started their own schools & military training academies in preparation for chasing the Japanese out. In January 1918, the exiled Korean Emperor "suddenly demised" (as the museum put it), fanning the flames of resistance, and on March 1 of that year, Koreans issued their Declaration of Independence. There were demonstrations all over the country, and a provisional government was set up, running things from China as they tried to figure out how to get rid of the Japanese. After 20+ years of protests, assassinations, bombings, and guerrilla warfare, with varying degrees of brutality in response from Japan, the Korean government got its own military together and that, coupled with the blasts in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, finally forced a Japanese surrender. August 15, 1945 is Korean Liberation Day. And then the Americans and Soviets took over. Which begins another epoch of history, covered in different museums.

On Wednesday, I toured Seodaemun Prison, built by the Japanese to incarcerate Korean resistance fighters. It's attractively set at the foot of a towering mountain, and it was a strikingly bright day, with temps in the single digits (Fahrenheit). I'm glad I didn't know there's no heat in the place, or I might have postponed my visit. My suffering was nothing, though, compared to the woman taking me around. Dressed in a military uniform of slacks, blouse, & blazer (and, I can only hope, longjohns), she walked me through the complex with no overcoat, hat, or gloves. When she first came out to ask if I wanted an English tour (most sane people being in warmer places, I was the only waygook there), I didn't immediately notice her clothing deficiencies; as the tour went on, it got increasingly alarming. We went through two barnlike prison buildings (with doors open at either end), the leper house, execution building, and women's prison, her skin getting whiter and voice getting shakier the entire time. She had a little pocket translator that she used whenever she got stuck on a word, and by the later stops, her stiff, blotchy fingers could barely peck out the letters. Loath to prolong her misery, I didn't linger over the displays, but I got the gist of it. The first barracks had artifacts--sticks for beating, tiny rice cookers for the prisoners' fist-size rations--while the second contained wax mannequins undergoing all sorts of brutal and creative torture. Behind the execution house was a concrete tunnel used to take the bodies into the mountain, where they could be disposed of without the dead's family having a chance to bury them. I contemplated asking if I could have a look round by myself, but by that point, I was also a bit shivery.

Yesterday (Saturday) required a bigger excursion, to the town of Cheonan, outside of which is the Korean Independence Museum. I was greeted in Cheonan by several massive art installations of varying styles. A plaque described the local council's efforts to build a more welcoming, less strictly functional bus station than is found elsewhere in Korea, based on an official's visit to bus stations in other countries, such as the US (really?!? I never think of Greyhound stations as particularly welcoming or inspiring). They did a bang-up job on the attractiveness factor, but after lunch at the Buy the Way convenience store, I noticed one glaring omission--any signage whatsoever indicating how to get places, such as one of the most significant museums in the country. Lonely Planet, helpful as ever, only said to consult the TI, and gave directions from the subway, so I set off in the direction indicated by a road sign with a train on it. After 20 minutes of walking, I was getting into more residential areas with no sign (literally) of a rail station, so I headed in a different direction. Finding myself back at the bus terminal, I went up the street the other way, but did not fare any better. Taking yet another turn, I saw a sign for a post office, and since I had a letter to mail, thought maybe I could knock off two objectives. 3 blocks and no post office later, I was getting a bit desperate. I copied the Korean letters for the museum into my pocket notebook, and started showing it to people. As slinking back to Seoul became an option, I was at last given a bus number (NOT the ones in Lonely Planet), which happened to be on the bus then approaching, and, at no extra charge, got a Six Flags-like ride half an hour out of town to the museum.

It's an imposing 10-minute walk from the road to the entrance, with a sharp mountain rising just behind the buildings and a spiky sculpture punctuating the long sidewalk. A woman at the ticket gate told me it was free (uh oh...that usually means a place is not in its full glory for one reason or another), and I trekked the rest of the way in, passing families playing in the snow, and a looooong line of kids dressed in identical jackets, carrying Korean flags (no idea). As is Korean wont, the museum is actually several buildings, requiring a brisk trip outside between each, but the exhibits are very well done, with significant English translation. I had just enough time to read through the narrative and contemplate the wax soldiers, strikers, bombers, and diplomats. I could skip most of the primary source stuff (usually my favorite), which consisted mostly of papers written in Korean and uninformative head shots of important players. Museum fatigue started to set in, but it was altogether quite interesting, and I have a much better grasp of what happened here in living memory.

I asked my freezing guide at Seodaemun if Korean-Japanese relations were better now. She said that Japanese people visit the prison sometimes...many are horrified by what happened there, some are not. Relations between the countries are normal, and "you see us at our soccer games, and we are smiling, but inside, we are not smiling."

Half...full?

Yes, I've been a Bad Blogger lately. Camp required a ton of preparation, including many, many hours of procrastination. I managed to fit in a LOT of YouTube videos because they are each only five minutes long, as opposed to blogging, which, at about an hour per entry, is obviously unsuitable for someone with homework. Some of the videos--several Mr. Beans, I Love Lucy, clips from the Vacation movies--were actually school-related, since I let the 3rd graders chill out on the last day of camp. Hours of U2, an inventory of Great Big Sea concert bootlegs, and the new CBC series Republic of Doyle were strictly for my own edification.

So camp is done, and so is half of my exile. The official halfway point of my entire absence was last week; the 6-month mark for Korea actually occurs next month during my visit home, but, as I don't have to teach any classes 'til the new semester in March, I'm as good as there. I do have to be careful though, about thinking of this week's trip to Jeju Island as time off. "Korea's Hawaii" it may be (with temps expected to move well into the 50s), but I'll still be responsible for 12 excited and rowdy kids, perhaps 4 of whom understand English with anything resembling facility. I've no idea what to expect, but since all the planning is done by other people, it's GOTTA be better than camp. Right???

Speaking of camp, Dr. DeSoto turned out to be a tad ambitious for the 2 classes that read it, although there were 3 or 4 students who understood it and made some really nice cartoon versions at the end. The Very Hungry Caterpillar (or California, as one class called it), on the other hand, was a home run. I hammered on "caterpillar", "hungry", "stomachache", and the days of the week until the kids had them as firmly as I dare hope, and a few of them were using "cocoon" too (when we first turned to that page, in every class was an outcry of "Bundaegi!!"--the popular larva snack sold on Korean streets). They made books, with a Very Hungry character of their own choosing, and I dictated most of the words, leaving the items consumed up to them. It was structured enough that most of the strugglers got it, and creative enough to occupy even the ones who found the vocabulary easy. And the products were fantastic! Those of you who'll see me when I'm home can enjoy The Very Hungry Maneater, The Very Hungry T-Rex, The Very Hungry Yoda, and The Very Hungry Dragon Obama, complete with some Very Charming illustrations.

(Boot) Camp

This week begins (and next week ends) "camp", a regimen of extra classes for the unfortunate, during winter break. And it's all about me! Really. I don't understand why SMOE doesn't do away with our "vacation time" (which we're only allowed to take during school breaks) and just let us travel when everyone else is off school. But that's the system, and so they have to come up with work for the native teachers to do when regular school isn't in session. In the past, there were EEP camps, or district camps, but this year nothing was slated, so my school (or, more precisely, one of my co-teachers) was forced to create a program to keep me busy.

Things I'm grateful for regarding camp:
--Small classes! Each group has 15 enrolled, and only about half that show up each day, so it's a much more congenial and manageable situation. I can actually tell who's thriving and who needs help. It's actually reasonable to have the kids make nametags and for me to use them. I really enjoy this size.
--No co-teacher. I feel much more relaxed without anyone looking over my shoulder. I feel free to try things and see how they go. I feel more in authority because I'm running the show, and the kids' behavior isn't going to suddenly change if someone else decides to leave the room.
--Half days. Classes go from 9-12:15, and then that's it. I've gotten home a little earlier each day this week. I was planning to go to a museum today, but I'm worn out and intending to visit one on Saturday, so I put it off. Hopefully not for too long.
--It only lasts 2 weeks. Most of my friends have 3-4 weeks, but with me going to Jeju and Cambodia, 2 weeks is all we could manage.

Things that make me keep repeating what I'm grateful for:
--Half days. I'm still teaching 4 classes/day, they're just all compressed, with only 5 minutes in between, so once you start, there's no time to organize, revisit, finish up, or draw breath. There's also no lunch, so the difficulty of devising meals for myself has been doubled. I'm actually starting to miss rice.
--No co-teacher. Terrie's not involved with this at all, so I'm totally on my own. Questions, problems, confusion? Too bad, sucker.
--The preparation is intense! Suddenly, the school year seems like a cake walk. I had picked the books I wanted to read ahead of time, but after the first day, it was apparent that those plans were (to quote Dumbledore) optimistic to the point of foolishness. 3 of the 6 classes were not ready for sentences, let alone a whole story (though one has a kid who lived in New York for 3 years thrown in, just to make sure I don't get too complacent). I'm settling into a trajectory now, but the first few days were each taken up with hours of reading, searching, agonizing, and rejiggering. I've gone through more objectives than I can count in Korean, and I'm back to the panic and anxiety that dogged my first days here. I have 3 different books I'm working with (The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Dr. DeSoto, and the third is actually a website of news articles), and each group progresses at a different rate (the 1st graders are doing well with Dr. DeSoto, and are poised to finish it next class, while I can only drag the 2nd graders through 3 or 4 pages at a time), so, like kittens, my "free" afternoons are anything but. And since I'm doing all the work at home, I have to sprint to school every morning to get things printed & copied before the scrum at the copier gets too impenetrable. The really scary part is that if I were teaching in the US, the whole year would be like this!

In other news, it's REALLY cold here. -6F yesterday morning. 0 today. The Weather Channel's 10-day outlook doesn't promise anything different. I don't think this is typical. Cambodia's looking pretty nice!

Snow! Snow! Snow!

I'm told this is the most snow Seoul has had in 103 years. 27 centimeters would, I believe, be pretty routine for Western New York, but the startled Koreans stepped up admirably. I did see my first plow here, going down one of the arterial roads. The rest, though, were left to individuals and the army, and it was impressive. On every back street were brigades of citizens with brooms, spades, and even a few snow shovels, hand clearing the passage. Merchants whacked at the sidewalks in front of their shops, getting every last hard-packed clot (and much of the snow was pretty trampled--there were some closings, but mostly the city trundled on as usual). At one crosswalk, a team of shovelers lined up to cross with each green, opening a little more each time. The collective effort was really amazing, infusing the air with an almost tangible communal spirit.

The city really isn't built to handle this kind of thing. Streets are narrow, with no "grace space" before buildings loom. Sidewalks are cobbled, the bane of any shovel, and polished stone is extremely popular for stairs, curbs, and walkways. Flattened cardboard boxes are de rigeur as traction assistance devices. When the ones in front of the escalators at the subway station disintegrated, they tried grass mats (in ribbons within hours), then moved on to indoor/outdoor carpeting (aka sodden, wadded slides). By the time I headed home in the early afternoon, the escalator was closed. Everywhere, there was a lot of slipping, a lot of falling, a lot of cars getting stuck (and a lot of revving engines--nobody seems to be too skilled with this). Even for city driving, a great number of cars have strap-on ribs for their drive wheels. I also saw a ton of umbrellas in the morning, when the storm was still raging. I chuckled to myself at the Koreans and their weather phobias, but by the time I got to school and had to dry out everything I owned, they were looking pretty smart.

So Seoul is looking pretty beautiful. The dusted mountains remind me of Boulder, and the fluffy piles (for now) are much more appealing than the Slurpee-like stuff we had in December. If the forecast is accurate, it should be with us for a while.

Here (from the highest level class in winter "camp"), is one student's take:

Snow is very cold and very dirty
but I like snow.
because snow is very beautiful
and when I see that
I think about heaven

Fire Away!

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Welcome, i cheon ship!

My first indication that something was going on was the burning smell as soon as I climbed up from the subway. Some cracks down an alley revealed the source....Roman candles, a Korean New Year's Eve staple. They were on offer from many of the street vendors, alongside the more standard fish pastries, pancakes, and dumplings. I headed toward Jonggak, home of the huge bell that is rung 33 times at the New Year. Plenty of people jostled alongside me, but just as many were going the opposite way. I took some drummers in traditional costume to be a good sign. I'd heard rumors of a parade, read the historical plaque about the bell, but the lack of any online listings or word of mouth had me wondering if this would all be a big bust. My friends, excited last week at the prospect of a parade, had lost faith and limited their evening plans to pay-at-the-door parties in the clubbing district. With better things to do with $50, and craving an authentically Seoul experience, I decided to take my chances downtown.

After a couple blocks, I saw the temple-style shelter that houses the famous bell, complete with temporary stage in front and a gathering crowd across the street. I chose a spot by a patch of shrubbery, on the theory that I'd have a few feet of unobstructed view. Time and temperature were both 10. Thinking of the hours of preparatory revelry at Times Square, I figured the show was bound to start any time.

In 3 layers head & legs, and 4 layers torso, I stayed warm for the first hour. I noticed the full moon directly overhead, the line of cameramen on the roof over yonder; read all the Korean on the various buildings; watched hundreds of policemen march in in riot gear and surgical masks--a couple dozen held hands and formed a line facing the crowd, while the rest massed in front of the stage like eager spectators. Occasionally someone would leapfrog through the shrubbery, making the gaps just a little wider each time. I marveled at how many Koreans had nothing at all on their heads, and started bouncing a little myself as the cold asserted itself.

Around 10:45, the screens above the stage came to life, and I was briefly hopeful for something to distract me from the shoving & shivering. Discerning number words amidst the stream of Korean was briefly diverting, but after seeing the same ads for a tv station on endless repeat for half an hour, it wasn't doing much to diminish my awareness of my frozen toes. The crowd circulated, everyone perpetually finding someplace they'd rather be and elbowing their way to it. People started planting themselves in holes in the shrubs, looking like poorly-disguised Munchkins. At one point, the wad of police up front suddenly moved away, and the void filled as a vacuum, leaving me on the uninsulated back end of the crowd.

At 11:15, the entertainment started. I believe it was the women's drum troupe I saw at the Seoul Drum Festival, but by now, my foliage buffer had been completely trampled, and I had to crane over shoulders to see anything. People continually forced their way through non-existent holes, tipping me this way and that. There was another drum act, some black-clad guys that made everyone scream, and a woman in nothing but a dress and silk shawl who did a heavily-accented rendition of "Memories". Through it all, a drum/pan band practiced/performed in the alley behind, creating a boisterous cacophany. By now, I was miserably cold and heartily sick of being pushed. Finally, I heard murmurs of "i bun"--"two minutes". At 11:59, the countdown began on the big screens.

No ball, no Auld Lang Syne, but at midnight, the crowd cheered while roman candles crackled from all around. I could see men striking the bell, but the other noise drowned its dull hum. Eventually it became audible as the shouting tapered off. I think it was parade time, but I was tired and frozen through, so turned for home. I thought I'd be clever and walk to the next subway stop where, I reasoned, it would be less crowded. However, where to go was not my choice to make.

The flow of people moving down the sidewalk was thick. "Wow, someone who gets nervous in crowds really wouldn't like this," I thought. It wasn't long before I was thoroughly not liking it. The scrum got so thick it stopped moving. People in the back pushed, with all the efficacy of horns in a traffic jam. The mob compressed, and my movements became involuntary. I stumbled, lurched, and twisted in whichever way I was buffered, helpless to do anything else. I could feel a forearm in my back, pushing as if there was somewhere to go. A man nearby held a cake over his head. I crossed my arms over my chest, to protect both. I looked for someplace to step aside & wait, but we were between buildings and barriers, and I had no idea where everyone was trying to go. Big shock waves kept coming from the back, making everyone list and scream. If anyone went down, there would be no mercy. We inched along, individuals powerless against the collective. A girl to my right lost her scarf; they made a couple attempts to reach down and grab it, but it was hopeless.

At last, I got within shoving distance of the steps to the underground shopping arcade, and finally had room to walk normally. Ever the clever one, I followed the signs for the station down the block, but all side passages were gated. So into the next wave I went, aiming with thousands of others for the 3 working gates into the Metro. The merciless pressure began again, and you got one chance to swipe your transit card and make the turnstiles move, or the crowd would slice you in half across them. People vaulted over or forced the bars; when I got up there, a girl was standing & swiping her card again and again, so I didn't even have to use mine. I went down to the platform and mentally urged the train to come quickly--I was only 5th in line, but it would take some blocking skills to get on regardless. Once the train arrived, I moved to the middle of the car, where I stood with room to do calisthenics, while most everyone else huddled around the door, leaving dozens of people stuck outside. I wondered how it would be at the next stop, but remarkably, most of the passengers got off there and it was an uneventful ride home.

Happy New Year!