No cruising trip in Indonesia is complete without a trip to the largely uninhabited, hot, dry and inhospitable island of Komodo. So on our crossing from Flores to Bali, we stopped briefly on Komodo island for some dragon hunting.
As we sailed up to the island, Kitten and I debated the habits of Komodo dragons. She searched the hills, anticipating large herds to be loping gracefully across the grassy hillsides. I scanned the cliffs and rocky areas, expecting to find cave dwelling, grumpy, fire breathing specimens. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you which one of us was correct. As it turns out, Komodo dragons are considerably more elusive than we gave them credit for, and though we searched high and low (nervously), they evaded us.
When we arrived, Adub and I made an initial foray onto the island. Komodo in the late afternoon felt eerie. The beach we landed on was fenced in by mangroves and we were already feeling wary of crocodiles which purportedly live in the same places as Komodo Dragons. Cautiously, we made our way through the low trees, ducking through narrow vines that hung from some branches and avoiding swampy looking ground. Beyond the mangroves was a large dry mudflat scattered with driftwood, abandoned sandals and the odd sun-bleached bone. A few nearby trees were blackened by fire. It truly felt like dragon territory.
We went carefully. Our cruising guide informed us that Komodo Dragons could grow up to 3 meters, weigh 150 kilograms and run 30 km per hour (I now understand why they are not simply called Komodo lizards). If that wasn’t daunting enough, we also knew that dragon bite was extremely dangerous. Komodo Dragons have paralyzing bacteria in their mouths, so once they bite you they can take their time eating you. As we walked, we stopped often, and peered around for potentially hungry reptiles.
Our fears were unfounded; there were no dragons nearby. We saw two wild boars but otherwise returned unimpressed. The next morning we searched again. Kitten came with us this time, and in the blazing sunlight the island felt less menacing. Even so, we were careful to look everywhere and stay on high ground as we combed the savannah-like hills. Again, no luck. We returned to the boat drenched in sweat (there is a reason these islands are homes to giant lizards- so incredibly hot and dry), unbitten, and unsatisfied. It was time to move on.
And so, no dragons. I think I will look for them at Bali Zoo. This is sad, but the moral of the story is… um… wild animals are wild? I should not expect them to come at my beck and call. I suppose this is why zoos were invented.
On the topic of dragons: What is the difference between a Komodo Dragon and a dinosaur? Komodo Dragons don’t breathe fire, nor do they fly. Why aren’t they Komodo Dinosaurs? Do Komodo Dragons like treasure? Do they kidnap innocent young maidens?
On a similar note- isn’t a Pterodactyl a fireless dragon?
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Anchor Away!
Well, it’s two weeks into my new life as a professional sailor and I believe I have discovered the true meaning of being a cruising sailor. No, it’s not about the beauty of the sea, or harnessing the wind to fly across the water. Nor is it about traveling the world and seeing new things and places. No, the true meaning of being a sailor is learning how to be completely lazy, with only brief periods of intense activity. That’s right my friends, I have left my gainful employment as an educator of midget Koreans to be a layabout on a boat. It’s excellent.
While we do spend an awful lot of time sitting around and sleeping, we do occasionally have some excitement. Here are some highlights from the last few weeks:
A new mammal species has been discovered in Australia. It is the elusive Drop Bear- a cousin of the better known Koala. While Koalas are cute, cuddly Eucalyptus connoisseurs, Drop Bears are vicious carnivores that fall on you from above and devour your flesh. While there is some controversy about the actual existence of the Drop Bear, we remain certain that this ferocious predator exists. We are also on the lookout for the Kraken, which we hear resides in these waters this time of year.
Meet the crew. We have our fearless leader, Boyscout, who is the owner of the boat and knows everything about the boat. He is self assured and reliable. His status as an Eaglescout is part of the reason my mother is able to deal with me being on the boat.
Next we have Kitten, the other girl on the boat who adores animals and makes sure we know the words for kitten and puppy in any language we may encounter. She has never sailed before joining the crew, but is a senior member at this point, and more capable than she gives herself credit for. She is Boyscout’s girlfriend.
Last we have Adub, a founding father of the organization who is friendly and generally a nice dude. As Boyscout and Kitten are a couple, Adub and I generally find ourselves hanging out somewhere else to give them space.
Tides are crazy in Australia. The tides rose and fell 28 feet at our mooring in Darwin, Australia, which meant that we periodically got trapped on land or on the boat (moorings are buoys that you can tie your boat to). One night this meant that, when we returned too late, our dingy was more or less sitting in mud. Kitten and I laughed our heads off as Boyscout and Adub attempted to row through the murk. They failed. Another night, Kitten was on the boat and tried to pick me and Boyscout up on the dock. She ran the dingy aground three times and we hitched a ride with a crazy, salty old Australian sea dog, who cursed and cackled at the disappearing water and almost fell in since the boat was about five feet below the dock. Though we had considered swimming back to the boat, we chose to try our luck with the Australian, since man eating saltwater crocodiles are very prevalent in Darwin.
Our first stop in Indonesia. The island of Kisar is a lovely little place. The locals almost never see visitors and so get very excited by new people. The invited us to dine on delicious rice and fish with them, gave Kitten a baby to hold, invited us to hide in their homes from the rain, and offered to take us on rides on their motorbikes. They all wanted to take and be in pictures with us and, since they all had camera phones, we posed an awful lot. The locals also rescued us from the coral head that our anchor chain got wrapped around. After 15 hours of fighting the trapped chain from the boat, Boyscout and I dove to look during low tide. While we could barely reach the chain before scrambling back to the surface, desperate for air, an incredible Indonesian diving boy and 15 of his closest friends came to our aid. Wearing only homemade goggles (for comparison, we had masks, snorkels and fins), our savior dived down and untied the three times wrapped around chain. He only went down twice and was down there for almost a minute at a time, muscling the chain off the coral. It was amazing.
Alright, well, back to sailing. Our next stop is unknown. Even if I knew, I probably wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.
Avast me good mateys and good winds in yer landlubber’ ports till I write ye again!
While we do spend an awful lot of time sitting around and sleeping, we do occasionally have some excitement. Here are some highlights from the last few weeks:
A new mammal species has been discovered in Australia. It is the elusive Drop Bear- a cousin of the better known Koala. While Koalas are cute, cuddly Eucalyptus connoisseurs, Drop Bears are vicious carnivores that fall on you from above and devour your flesh. While there is some controversy about the actual existence of the Drop Bear, we remain certain that this ferocious predator exists. We are also on the lookout for the Kraken, which we hear resides in these waters this time of year.
Meet the crew. We have our fearless leader, Boyscout, who is the owner of the boat and knows everything about the boat. He is self assured and reliable. His status as an Eaglescout is part of the reason my mother is able to deal with me being on the boat.
Next we have Kitten, the other girl on the boat who adores animals and makes sure we know the words for kitten and puppy in any language we may encounter. She has never sailed before joining the crew, but is a senior member at this point, and more capable than she gives herself credit for. She is Boyscout’s girlfriend.
Last we have Adub, a founding father of the organization who is friendly and generally a nice dude. As Boyscout and Kitten are a couple, Adub and I generally find ourselves hanging out somewhere else to give them space.
Tides are crazy in Australia. The tides rose and fell 28 feet at our mooring in Darwin, Australia, which meant that we periodically got trapped on land or on the boat (moorings are buoys that you can tie your boat to). One night this meant that, when we returned too late, our dingy was more or less sitting in mud. Kitten and I laughed our heads off as Boyscout and Adub attempted to row through the murk. They failed. Another night, Kitten was on the boat and tried to pick me and Boyscout up on the dock. She ran the dingy aground three times and we hitched a ride with a crazy, salty old Australian sea dog, who cursed and cackled at the disappearing water and almost fell in since the boat was about five feet below the dock. Though we had considered swimming back to the boat, we chose to try our luck with the Australian, since man eating saltwater crocodiles are very prevalent in Darwin.
Our first stop in Indonesia. The island of Kisar is a lovely little place. The locals almost never see visitors and so get very excited by new people. The invited us to dine on delicious rice and fish with them, gave Kitten a baby to hold, invited us to hide in their homes from the rain, and offered to take us on rides on their motorbikes. They all wanted to take and be in pictures with us and, since they all had camera phones, we posed an awful lot. The locals also rescued us from the coral head that our anchor chain got wrapped around. After 15 hours of fighting the trapped chain from the boat, Boyscout and I dove to look during low tide. While we could barely reach the chain before scrambling back to the surface, desperate for air, an incredible Indonesian diving boy and 15 of his closest friends came to our aid. Wearing only homemade goggles (for comparison, we had masks, snorkels and fins), our savior dived down and untied the three times wrapped around chain. He only went down twice and was down there for almost a minute at a time, muscling the chain off the coral. It was amazing.
Alright, well, back to sailing. Our next stop is unknown. Even if I knew, I probably wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.
Avast me good mateys and good winds in yer landlubber’ ports till I write ye again!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Goodbye Korea
As I write this, I am sitting on an airplane that is taking me away from Korea. My destination: the Southeast Asian seas. It’s a bittersweet journey, because saying goodbye is always hard, but I can’t pretend that Korea wasn’t really the place for me. Though it may not have been all that I had hoped, and certainly was never in my plans, I believe my six months in Korea were time well spent.
I’ll definitely miss the people I met. I have friends from all over the world now- an open invitation to crash anytime in Ireland, places to stay all over England, friends scattered throughout Canada, the US and Australia. I’ve learned about many more cultures than Korea’s, met people who have been more places than I can think of. There’s some friends who biked from China to Ireland (they did have to take a boat for the last bit), sweeping across the entire Eurasian continent. A bunch of my friends have worked as volunteers in South America. Another friend visited Russia on a whim for a week. Bodacious Brit is going to be a bridesmaid next summer in South Africa. It really is quite a head-trip. And, even taking no notice of their exciting lives, I have just made some simply amazing friends. I will miss them terribly.
I will miss Korea too. I’ll miss my favorite foods, my hangouts, the nightlife, the history, the random nudity, and the craziness of living and working in a considerably different country. I’ll miss poking fun at ajumas and ajoshis and having stilted conversations with Koreans who laugh at me but appreciate my attempts to learn their language. I took a taxi ride a few days ago and was able to tell the taxi driver that I didn’t live in my nearest shopping center. I usually use the name of the center to get me home from Seoul, and it always confuses the drivers when I ask them to go somewhere else when we get there. He laughed for a solid minute when I said “Save Zone che apartu animnida”- Save Zone is not my apartment.
I’ve loved visiting the palaces and museums, participating in the festivals, seeing the traditional and not so traditional performances, and doing a not insignificant amount of souvenir shopping. Korea has a rich history and is a fascinating country.
I’ll even miss my kids… I think. Well, not the hellions.
Annyeong hi kesseyo Korea. It’s been real.
I’ll definitely miss the people I met. I have friends from all over the world now- an open invitation to crash anytime in Ireland, places to stay all over England, friends scattered throughout Canada, the US and Australia. I’ve learned about many more cultures than Korea’s, met people who have been more places than I can think of. There’s some friends who biked from China to Ireland (they did have to take a boat for the last bit), sweeping across the entire Eurasian continent. A bunch of my friends have worked as volunteers in South America. Another friend visited Russia on a whim for a week. Bodacious Brit is going to be a bridesmaid next summer in South Africa. It really is quite a head-trip. And, even taking no notice of their exciting lives, I have just made some simply amazing friends. I will miss them terribly.
I will miss Korea too. I’ll miss my favorite foods, my hangouts, the nightlife, the history, the random nudity, and the craziness of living and working in a considerably different country. I’ll miss poking fun at ajumas and ajoshis and having stilted conversations with Koreans who laugh at me but appreciate my attempts to learn their language. I took a taxi ride a few days ago and was able to tell the taxi driver that I didn’t live in my nearest shopping center. I usually use the name of the center to get me home from Seoul, and it always confuses the drivers when I ask them to go somewhere else when we get there. He laughed for a solid minute when I said “Save Zone che apartu animnida”- Save Zone is not my apartment.
I’ve loved visiting the palaces and museums, participating in the festivals, seeing the traditional and not so traditional performances, and doing a not insignificant amount of souvenir shopping. Korea has a rich history and is a fascinating country.
I’ll even miss my kids… I think. Well, not the hellions.
Annyeong hi kesseyo Korea. It’s been real.
Monday, August 23, 2010
When Ajoshis ATTACK- News at 11
Today I was reminded that the subway is sometimes a rather alarming place.
Generally I like Seoul Metro- it's clean, reliable and cheap. You can get pretty much from anywhere in the Seoul Metropolitan area to anywhere else; all of Seoul seems to have an underground level with shopping and rushing trains. The map is a bit overwhelming, nine different lines spiderweb out into the suburbs while the downtown of Seoul is a veritable warren of crisscrossing subway lines, making the map resemble a rat's nest more than anything else. Sometimes the rides can be uncomfortable, particularly on the late night trains out of the city when people have to be physically shoved into the cars and no one needs handrails because the train is so fully packed that the bodies of your fellow riders hold you up.
Yesterday's ride started out fine. I was off to visit Kylara's family down in Seouther Seoul, which is quite a trek, so I hopped on the train bright and early with a packed brunch in my bag. There I was, leaning against a rail and munching my peanut butter and jelly when a somewhat elderly man approached me. In Korea, these are known as Ajoshis. He asked me something in Korean and I apologized and explained that I didn't know Korean that well. Ignoring my words and perhaps latching onto the fact that I had replied in Korean, he began to question me- still in Korean. For a few minutes I was able to work out a few of his questions enough to be able to answer to his satisfaction, but then he pointed at his watch and said something I couldn't even begin to understand. I apologized again and he repeated it, a bit louder. I shook my head, curiously said the word for wristwatch (shikhae), shrugged my shoulders and turned away, uncertain whether or not this man was crazy.
I tried to ignore him, a hard task as he was about two feet away and staring irritably at me. Munching my sandwich, I pretended to be enjoying the view of train track junkyards and distant apartments buildings. Maybe he would just go away... No such luck. He watched me for a few seconds before starting in on me in Korean again, saying goodness knows what. At this point, the other riders were beginning to notice the commotion. The Ajoshi repeated his stupid watch question again- what was he asking?- maybe how long I had been in his country? why I wasn't wearing a watch? if i wanted to buy his watch? I shook my head, now feeling a little annoyed myself and distinctly feigning interest in the advertisements posted on the walls of the subway.
My neighbor came to my rescue... or so we thought. She said sorry to me in English and then patiently explained something to the Ajoshi. Probably everything I'd already told him- that I didn't speak Korean and couldn't answer his question. This only served to further enrage said Ajoshi. He began yelling at my hapless neighbor, who replied politely with a smile on her face. They take respect your elders very seriously here and I was tempted start yelling at him in English to leave the poor girl alone, since she was just taking it. He started pointing and screeching, now drawing the attention of the entire car of riders, who stared at the three of us with mingled amusement, alarm and pity. I tried to make myself invisible, and when that failed, I simply shrugged and grinned awkwardly at the staring onlookers.
The Ajoshi stormed away and I breathed a sigh of relief. Some of the other riders were giggling at this point, and I giggled a bit myself. It was ridiculous, and I was sure it was quite a show for everyone who could understand Korean. A foreigner girl staring blankly at an old man who was raging at her in a language she couldn't understand but everyone else could, while another random Korean girl politely told the man to shove it.
My relief came far too early. The Ajoshi was back, pointing at one of us and then the other, yelling in our faces in a manner that suggested we had taken this particular subway ride simply to plot against him. He reached down and picked up my bag (it was at my feet), which I nervously wrested from his grasp. The seemed to be the tipping point. A younger Korean guy came to our rescue by pushing the Ajoshi away and cornering him. Our rescuer and his friend threated the offending Ajoshi in low tones until the old man apologized to my neighbor. He did not apologize to me- rather, he continued to glare until we reached the next stop, where he disembarked and threw a dirty look over his shoulder. Seconds later, a security guard arrived (rather belated, in my humble opinion) and followed him off of the subway.
Ah well. These things happen. I just wish I knew what he was so mad about. I'll never know.
Generally I like Seoul Metro- it's clean, reliable and cheap. You can get pretty much from anywhere in the Seoul Metropolitan area to anywhere else; all of Seoul seems to have an underground level with shopping and rushing trains. The map is a bit overwhelming, nine different lines spiderweb out into the suburbs while the downtown of Seoul is a veritable warren of crisscrossing subway lines, making the map resemble a rat's nest more than anything else. Sometimes the rides can be uncomfortable, particularly on the late night trains out of the city when people have to be physically shoved into the cars and no one needs handrails because the train is so fully packed that the bodies of your fellow riders hold you up.
Yesterday's ride started out fine. I was off to visit Kylara's family down in Seouther Seoul, which is quite a trek, so I hopped on the train bright and early with a packed brunch in my bag. There I was, leaning against a rail and munching my peanut butter and jelly when a somewhat elderly man approached me. In Korea, these are known as Ajoshis. He asked me something in Korean and I apologized and explained that I didn't know Korean that well. Ignoring my words and perhaps latching onto the fact that I had replied in Korean, he began to question me- still in Korean. For a few minutes I was able to work out a few of his questions enough to be able to answer to his satisfaction, but then he pointed at his watch and said something I couldn't even begin to understand. I apologized again and he repeated it, a bit louder. I shook my head, curiously said the word for wristwatch (shikhae), shrugged my shoulders and turned away, uncertain whether or not this man was crazy.
I tried to ignore him, a hard task as he was about two feet away and staring irritably at me. Munching my sandwich, I pretended to be enjoying the view of train track junkyards and distant apartments buildings. Maybe he would just go away... No such luck. He watched me for a few seconds before starting in on me in Korean again, saying goodness knows what. At this point, the other riders were beginning to notice the commotion. The Ajoshi repeated his stupid watch question again- what was he asking?- maybe how long I had been in his country? why I wasn't wearing a watch? if i wanted to buy his watch? I shook my head, now feeling a little annoyed myself and distinctly feigning interest in the advertisements posted on the walls of the subway.
My neighbor came to my rescue... or so we thought. She said sorry to me in English and then patiently explained something to the Ajoshi. Probably everything I'd already told him- that I didn't speak Korean and couldn't answer his question. This only served to further enrage said Ajoshi. He began yelling at my hapless neighbor, who replied politely with a smile on her face. They take respect your elders very seriously here and I was tempted start yelling at him in English to leave the poor girl alone, since she was just taking it. He started pointing and screeching, now drawing the attention of the entire car of riders, who stared at the three of us with mingled amusement, alarm and pity. I tried to make myself invisible, and when that failed, I simply shrugged and grinned awkwardly at the staring onlookers.
The Ajoshi stormed away and I breathed a sigh of relief. Some of the other riders were giggling at this point, and I giggled a bit myself. It was ridiculous, and I was sure it was quite a show for everyone who could understand Korean. A foreigner girl staring blankly at an old man who was raging at her in a language she couldn't understand but everyone else could, while another random Korean girl politely told the man to shove it.
My relief came far too early. The Ajoshi was back, pointing at one of us and then the other, yelling in our faces in a manner that suggested we had taken this particular subway ride simply to plot against him. He reached down and picked up my bag (it was at my feet), which I nervously wrested from his grasp. The seemed to be the tipping point. A younger Korean guy came to our rescue by pushing the Ajoshi away and cornering him. Our rescuer and his friend threated the offending Ajoshi in low tones until the old man apologized to my neighbor. He did not apologize to me- rather, he continued to glare until we reached the next stop, where he disembarked and threw a dirty look over his shoulder. Seconds later, a security guard arrived (rather belated, in my humble opinion) and followed him off of the subway.
Ah well. These things happen. I just wish I knew what he was so mad about. I'll never know.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Sushi vs. Kimchee, A Comparison of Neighbor Countries
A few weeks ago, Pippi and I visited Japan while I was on my one week summer vacation. It was a blast. We went to the southernmost island, called Kyushu, and traveled all over the northern half. Our route: from Fukuoka to Nagasaki to Kumumoto and then onto a tiny onsen town called Yufuin. Every kind of Japanese food we could think of we ate, and for entertainment we visited museums, tall ships, castles and volcanoes (to name a few). We traveled by train, bus, ferry, trolley, bike and foot and got by on four Japanese words: Konichiwa (hello), Arigato Gozimas (thank you very much), Ohio Gozimas (good day to you) and Hai (yes). It was a most excellent adventure, but rather than boring you all with the excruciating details (for instance- our 2 hour walk to a hotel when we got off the bus at the wrong stop), I will save that for stories I tell at home and will instead regale you with amusing comparisons of Korea (at least the Seoul area I am used to) and Japan (Kyushu specific- I cannot comment on Tokyo).
Warning to the reader- this post is rated PG-13 due to some more mature topics. If you might be offended by these, please skip Love Motels.
Number One: Food
Well duh, you might be thinking. Korean people eat barbeque and kimchee, Japanese people eat sushi and tempura (among other things). But what I found fascinating as I wandered around Japan and sampled everything I could think of is that there is almost no spicy food in Japan. While in Korea I can only find food that is spicy and or sweet, the vast majority of Japanese food strongly tastes of sesame seed oil, ginger or soy sauce. A Korean ramyeon will make my eyes tear up and my nose run, but its Japanese cousin, the better known ramen, hasn’t even a hint of spice, unless you count the optional ginger sprinkled on top. Wasabi has a bite, yes, but it can’t even begin to compete in spiciness with the ubiquitous red pepper of Japan’s western neighbor.
Number Two: Expense
I’ve heard it before and I will repeat it for anyone who will listen. Japan is EXPENSIVE. Korea isn’t particularly cheap or anything but there are places to stay for 10 dollars a night and plenty of nice meals for under 5 dollars. Not so with Japan. And the yen is doing disgustingly well, particularly compared to the won. Japanese trips will bite you in the pocketbook.
Number Three: Love Motels
An interesting phenomenon exists in Korea. Children are expected to live with their parents until they are married and living alone is very frowned upon. This poses a problem for young Korean couples who feel a little frisky in the dating stage, particularly ones that are in their 20s. Rather than hiding in bushes like their teenage counterparts in the US (Korea, with its incredibly dense population, does have a dearth of sneaking away spots, so it would be hard for them to find any bushes anyway), a highly successful business of providing rooms has sprung up on practically every city street in Korea. The love motel is as common in Korea as Starbucks is in America, you cannot get very far without seeing a bright neon sign announcing the motel and garage entrances with the top half obscured by cords (to keep people from being able to see the drivers of the cars that go into the motels). They are frequented by amorous young couples, Korean men with their prostitutes, traveling foreigners and cheating couples. Love motels range from classy to creepy and are a wonderfully cheap option for a pair of travelers with no toothbrushes (for some reason every love motel provides a toothbrush to each of its guests). Even if you do have a toothbrush, love motels are highly convenient. My school put me up in one for my first four nights in Korea.
In Japan, I was curious to see if the love motel had found a similar niche in the landscape and society. I did find love motels, but it was quite a different experience. Japanese love motels are incredibly sketchy. They involve separate entrances and exits and rather than a front desk, they instead have a display of the available rooms, each with a picture that shows the theme of the room. If it’s lit up, it’s available. If not, well… don’t go in. I don’t expect they provide toothbrushes either. Pippi and I definitely decided that love motels in Japan were not friendly places for the low budget traveler, so I never will know exactly how they worked, but I don’t regret skipping the love motel and staying at a business hotel instead.
Number Four: Smell
No offense Korea, but you smell. You do. Face it. Rotting bags of kimchee on the street outside of restaurants lend a distinct odor to Korea that in the summer is simply too overwhelming to be ignored. And even though most Koreans don’t have terrible b.o. and thus deodorant is a scarce commodity, when you’re crammed onto the subway up to your eyeballs in people, the few that do need deodorant become painfully obvious.
Japan, on the other hand, seems to have a countrywide case of hygienic OCD. There is no smell, which is quite a relief, but in return you get a bidet unit on every private and nearly every public toilet, as well as silly little river sound makers to mask the noises of your toilet usage. For a few days after I returned from Japan, the bathroom sounded exceptionally quiet and I almost missed the gurgling brook accompaniment.
Number Five: English speaking ability
In Korea I have been somewhat spoiled. English is taught at public school now; most Koreans know a bit of English and can understand some of my most basic requests. Their accents are atrocious and they rarely can comprehend mine, which often leads to me being forced to speak Konglish (adding an uh or ee noise on the end of any word that ends with a hard consonant), but at least nearly everyone can say hello, English teacher, and where are you from (the vast majority of my conversations with random Koreans include those three phrases).
In Japan, very few people speak English. The average person on the street will not recognize anything more than Hello, and one is quickly reduced to elaborate and inaccurate sign language with hotel staff, waiters and bus drivers. Pippi and I went into one restaurant in Yufuin where the menu had no pictures, and since neither of us could read kanji and the waiter could speak absolutely no English, we were left looking quizzically around while the waiter shuffled his feet awkwardly in the kitchen. We were saved from starvation when our only fellow diner received her meal of tempura, which we pointed at frantically and held up two fingers, begging in English and repeating the word "tempura" like a mantra.
Fortunately, most major train stations have incredibly helpful information staff who assure you they can only speak a little English and then answer your complicated questions with clear accents and an excellent grasp of grammar. There appears to be no in between. So definitely learn the word for bathroom if you plan on going to Japan some time soon.
Obviously there was more- from differing fashion and hairstyles to completely different geography (the mini mountains of Korea are much different than the sharp volcanic peaks on the Japanese islands). There were different looking temples and castles, and all the Hyundais and Kias of Korea got traded for Hondas and Toyotas in Japan (that drove on the wrong side of the road). There were similarities too- the convenience stores had the same names and foods, many of the same brands existed in both countries and everyone had an unhealthy obsession with Hello Kitty (including Pippi). It was fun, and fascinating. And now I have two more stamps in my passport to show that I am quite the world traveler indeed.
Warning to the reader- this post is rated PG-13 due to some more mature topics. If you might be offended by these, please skip Love Motels.
Number One: Food
Well duh, you might be thinking. Korean people eat barbeque and kimchee, Japanese people eat sushi and tempura (among other things). But what I found fascinating as I wandered around Japan and sampled everything I could think of is that there is almost no spicy food in Japan. While in Korea I can only find food that is spicy and or sweet, the vast majority of Japanese food strongly tastes of sesame seed oil, ginger or soy sauce. A Korean ramyeon will make my eyes tear up and my nose run, but its Japanese cousin, the better known ramen, hasn’t even a hint of spice, unless you count the optional ginger sprinkled on top. Wasabi has a bite, yes, but it can’t even begin to compete in spiciness with the ubiquitous red pepper of Japan’s western neighbor.
Number Two: Expense
I’ve heard it before and I will repeat it for anyone who will listen. Japan is EXPENSIVE. Korea isn’t particularly cheap or anything but there are places to stay for 10 dollars a night and plenty of nice meals for under 5 dollars. Not so with Japan. And the yen is doing disgustingly well, particularly compared to the won. Japanese trips will bite you in the pocketbook.
Number Three: Love Motels
An interesting phenomenon exists in Korea. Children are expected to live with their parents until they are married and living alone is very frowned upon. This poses a problem for young Korean couples who feel a little frisky in the dating stage, particularly ones that are in their 20s. Rather than hiding in bushes like their teenage counterparts in the US (Korea, with its incredibly dense population, does have a dearth of sneaking away spots, so it would be hard for them to find any bushes anyway), a highly successful business of providing rooms has sprung up on practically every city street in Korea. The love motel is as common in Korea as Starbucks is in America, you cannot get very far without seeing a bright neon sign announcing the motel and garage entrances with the top half obscured by cords (to keep people from being able to see the drivers of the cars that go into the motels). They are frequented by amorous young couples, Korean men with their prostitutes, traveling foreigners and cheating couples. Love motels range from classy to creepy and are a wonderfully cheap option for a pair of travelers with no toothbrushes (for some reason every love motel provides a toothbrush to each of its guests). Even if you do have a toothbrush, love motels are highly convenient. My school put me up in one for my first four nights in Korea.
In Japan, I was curious to see if the love motel had found a similar niche in the landscape and society. I did find love motels, but it was quite a different experience. Japanese love motels are incredibly sketchy. They involve separate entrances and exits and rather than a front desk, they instead have a display of the available rooms, each with a picture that shows the theme of the room. If it’s lit up, it’s available. If not, well… don’t go in. I don’t expect they provide toothbrushes either. Pippi and I definitely decided that love motels in Japan were not friendly places for the low budget traveler, so I never will know exactly how they worked, but I don’t regret skipping the love motel and staying at a business hotel instead.
Number Four: Smell
No offense Korea, but you smell. You do. Face it. Rotting bags of kimchee on the street outside of restaurants lend a distinct odor to Korea that in the summer is simply too overwhelming to be ignored. And even though most Koreans don’t have terrible b.o. and thus deodorant is a scarce commodity, when you’re crammed onto the subway up to your eyeballs in people, the few that do need deodorant become painfully obvious.
Japan, on the other hand, seems to have a countrywide case of hygienic OCD. There is no smell, which is quite a relief, but in return you get a bidet unit on every private and nearly every public toilet, as well as silly little river sound makers to mask the noises of your toilet usage. For a few days after I returned from Japan, the bathroom sounded exceptionally quiet and I almost missed the gurgling brook accompaniment.
Number Five: English speaking ability
In Korea I have been somewhat spoiled. English is taught at public school now; most Koreans know a bit of English and can understand some of my most basic requests. Their accents are atrocious and they rarely can comprehend mine, which often leads to me being forced to speak Konglish (adding an uh or ee noise on the end of any word that ends with a hard consonant), but at least nearly everyone can say hello, English teacher, and where are you from (the vast majority of my conversations with random Koreans include those three phrases).
In Japan, very few people speak English. The average person on the street will not recognize anything more than Hello, and one is quickly reduced to elaborate and inaccurate sign language with hotel staff, waiters and bus drivers. Pippi and I went into one restaurant in Yufuin where the menu had no pictures, and since neither of us could read kanji and the waiter could speak absolutely no English, we were left looking quizzically around while the waiter shuffled his feet awkwardly in the kitchen. We were saved from starvation when our only fellow diner received her meal of tempura, which we pointed at frantically and held up two fingers, begging in English and repeating the word "tempura" like a mantra.
Fortunately, most major train stations have incredibly helpful information staff who assure you they can only speak a little English and then answer your complicated questions with clear accents and an excellent grasp of grammar. There appears to be no in between. So definitely learn the word for bathroom if you plan on going to Japan some time soon.
Obviously there was more- from differing fashion and hairstyles to completely different geography (the mini mountains of Korea are much different than the sharp volcanic peaks on the Japanese islands). There were different looking temples and castles, and all the Hyundais and Kias of Korea got traded for Hondas and Toyotas in Japan (that drove on the wrong side of the road). There were similarities too- the convenience stores had the same names and foods, many of the same brands existed in both countries and everyone had an unhealthy obsession with Hello Kitty (including Pippi). It was fun, and fascinating. And now I have two more stamps in my passport to show that I am quite the world traveler indeed.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Announcements!
Announcements, announcements, announcements! A horrible way to die, a horrible way to die, a horrible death to be talked to death, a horrible way to die!
Sorry, couldn't help it, too many years of girl scout camp have bred an inability to hear the word announcements without spontaneously bursting into song.
Hi everyone! Sorry I've been away for so long. Sarah (furthermore known as Pippi) was visiting and I was entertaining and being entertained. Also, I was in Japan for a week. So, I've been busy. I have not forgotten about the blog, I promise!
However, I am not going to put out A Day in the Life- Part 2 just yet. It takes me awhile to write these posts, it's late tonight, and I have two very important pieces of information to disseminate.
Number 1:
Fan Death is real. I know for a fact. I slept with my fan on, next to my bed, in a closed room for four nights and the fan died.
...
Ba dum ba!
Number 2: (the more important piece of news)
I am leaving Korea at the end of August. This probably doesn't come as a surprise to most of you, but I thought I'd make an official announcement on the blog. I am off to go sailing through Southeast Asia. I will be on a 40 foot yawl (type of sailboat) as part of a crew of 4. It will be completely awesome. We will be stopping in many different ports and visiting a bunch of countries.
So yes. You've all got about 3 more weeks of funny Korean tidbits and then it's off to Australia with me!
Sorry, couldn't help it, too many years of girl scout camp have bred an inability to hear the word announcements without spontaneously bursting into song.
Hi everyone! Sorry I've been away for so long. Sarah (furthermore known as Pippi) was visiting and I was entertaining and being entertained. Also, I was in Japan for a week. So, I've been busy. I have not forgotten about the blog, I promise!
However, I am not going to put out A Day in the Life- Part 2 just yet. It takes me awhile to write these posts, it's late tonight, and I have two very important pieces of information to disseminate.
Number 1:
Fan Death is real. I know for a fact. I slept with my fan on, next to my bed, in a closed room for four nights and the fan died.
...
Ba dum ba!
Number 2: (the more important piece of news)
I am leaving Korea at the end of August. This probably doesn't come as a surprise to most of you, but I thought I'd make an official announcement on the blog. I am off to go sailing through Southeast Asia. I will be on a 40 foot yawl (type of sailboat) as part of a crew of 4. It will be completely awesome. We will be stopping in many different ports and visiting a bunch of countries.
So yes. You've all got about 3 more weeks of funny Korean tidbits and then it's off to Australia with me!
Friday, July 2, 2010
A Day in the Life of Kirin Teacher: Part 1
Part 1- Kindergarten
Recently I realized that while I often post about cultural differences, fun events and amusing experiences so you all have a good grasp of how I entertain myself, I talk very little about what I actually do the vast majority of my waking hours. Thus, most of you have no real concept of what I do as my actual job. Well, wonder no longer. Allow me to introduce “A day in the life” in 2 parts- kindergarten and elementary. (I don’t think I can actually do both in one blog post- that’s too much free time at once being spent thinking about work.)
Today we’re doing kindergarten. My day starts every morning at 9:40 when I arrive ten minutes late to work. I’m sure this will come as no surprise that I am always late, but since class doesn’t start until 9:45, all I miss out on is “prep time” aka coffee time with Desert Boy and Indifferent (my other male coworker who does not care about anything except occasionally bickering with me purely for the sake of bickering- yesterday he argued with me when I said that the South African flag was colorful and last week he would not believe me that the summer solstice changed days from year to year). The Bodacious Brit does not arrive until later, so she also misses out on coffee hour, though I’m sure the boys enjoy their y-chromosome time and don’t want us there anyway.
So I rush into work, grab my basket and books and scuttle over to class. My first batch of children is the hellions. They arrive in various states: acting like dinosaurs and airplanes, dripping snot, hitting each other… you get the idea. There are actually now four of them, and they are a very different class from the babbling monsters I had back in March.
We start out our morning routine with “How are you feeling?” Answers vary from the expected (angry, sad, happy, sleepy) to the compound (happysad, angrysleepy, happyangrysad) to the absurd (turtle, dinosaur) to Korean gibberish. Once I’ve managed to drag a reasonable answer out of each and drawn a corresponding face on the board next to their name, we say what the weather is. This normally results in warfare, since there is only one weather sheet onto which the Velcro cloud, sun and rain are stuck, so regardless of how much I rotate and make sure that everyone has a turn, the others will always try to steal it from him.
Eventually the sheet gets onto the board, usually upside down. This instantaneously results in all four children swarming me, wrapping themselves around my legs and chanting “upside down, upside down”. This phenomenon is due to a desperate measure I took in one of my first weeks here, where I got fed up with the boys not understanding the concept of upside down and actually picked one up by the ankles so he got the point. Being 3 years old, he loved it and all the others wanted a turn too. So every day, except when my back simply won’t take it anymore, I find myself swinging the boys around by their ankles while they giggle and shout in mingled Korean and English.
Then it’s time for days of the week. I take down the flashcards from the wall (our walls are made of fabric so we can stick velcroed flashcards to them) and before I have even begun to arrange them on the table, all seven have been stolen. This used to annoy me, but really, the longer I drag this whole routine out, the less time I have to spend trying to find things to keep them happy, since they can really only focus on bookwork for about 10 to 15 minutes at best (sometimes, only 5) and I have 40 minutes a class period to keep them entertained. Eventually I manage to get all seven flashcards on the table, we sing the days of the week song and one lucky child is chosen to put the day on the board. It usually ends up upside down again.
Bookwork itself is unexciting, though I’m sure the whole thing would seem ridiculous to anyone else. I chant things for them to repeat, try to get them to answer questions, and struggle to keep them on their page numbers while they chatter away in Korean, pull faces, and constantly attempt to escape their chairs.
Then comes the dreaded snack time. I hate, loathe and detest snack time. I spend all of snack time cleaning up after spills if we have something liquid, scolding the boys for stealing from each other, keeping them from stuffing so much in their mouths that they can’t breathe and attempting to get them to eat, rather than throw, their food. I still expect to have to perform the Heimlich someday soon, particularly with the new boy who cannot chew and swallow food to save his life. I swear, he’s like a damn chipmunk, wandering around with food stashed in his cheek pockets for later consumption.
With snack completed, we move on to gym time, where I rest for a few minutes and watch them play on the little jungle gym in our school. Once I am mostly recovered we play “sleeping” where I pretend to sleep until they say “cockayo!” (Korean for cockadoodledoo) and then I lunge around trying to tickle them while yelling “Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of a Korean…etc”. Desert Boy caught me doing this the other day and laughed himself silly, however, no one else has a class of 3 year olds, so everyone just lets me do whatever it takes to keep the hooligans entertained.
Then it’s another class with the hellions, which we finish up with song time. The boys beg for “check um chilies” (aka “Shake your Sillies”), a song in which they go running around the room screaming while I protect the CD player. If I’m feeling brave, I convince them to join me in “BINGO” or “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” as well.
An hour and a half has passed at this point, and I feel ready to die. Fortunately, I have my break and then lunch. Lunch is generally a strange concoction of bland Korean foods (we are at a kindergarten after all) and a soup that normally smells to Desert Boy like a golf course. Indifferent, Bodacious Brit, Desert Boy and I eat at our desks, hiding from the children, while the Korean teachers entertain them. During that time, Indifferent is sure to remind us that he only has one break every day, I will mostly likely punch Desert Boy for something offensive that he has said and Bodacious Brit usually says something completely inappropriate for work.
Then it’s onto kindergarten round two. My second class consists of ten four year olds who are considerably more civilized and thus, much cuter than the hellions. Our routines are much more reasonable and I get to feel like a teacher, rather than a performing monkey. We chant, we sing, they color, I direct and everything moves more or less according to plan. The children tattle on each other for speaking Korean every few seconds, pretend to get hurt to get out of class and generally act like children do. It’s refreshing. Though I do have to avoid the psycho killer child who is too busy plotting all of our murders to listen to anything I tell him, gives everyone the death glare, and draws pictures with teeth and fangs even if I have asked them to draw food or playground equipment. I also frequently find myself acting out strange things at the request of the students “Kirin teacher shark! Kirin teacher monster! Kirin teacher flower!”
Then 2:15 rolls around and kindergarten is done. The kiddies are sent on their way and I retreat to my desk to wait for the next onslaught.
Up next: elementary!
Recently I realized that while I often post about cultural differences, fun events and amusing experiences so you all have a good grasp of how I entertain myself, I talk very little about what I actually do the vast majority of my waking hours. Thus, most of you have no real concept of what I do as my actual job. Well, wonder no longer. Allow me to introduce “A day in the life” in 2 parts- kindergarten and elementary. (I don’t think I can actually do both in one blog post- that’s too much free time at once being spent thinking about work.)
Today we’re doing kindergarten. My day starts every morning at 9:40 when I arrive ten minutes late to work. I’m sure this will come as no surprise that I am always late, but since class doesn’t start until 9:45, all I miss out on is “prep time” aka coffee time with Desert Boy and Indifferent (my other male coworker who does not care about anything except occasionally bickering with me purely for the sake of bickering- yesterday he argued with me when I said that the South African flag was colorful and last week he would not believe me that the summer solstice changed days from year to year). The Bodacious Brit does not arrive until later, so she also misses out on coffee hour, though I’m sure the boys enjoy their y-chromosome time and don’t want us there anyway.
So I rush into work, grab my basket and books and scuttle over to class. My first batch of children is the hellions. They arrive in various states: acting like dinosaurs and airplanes, dripping snot, hitting each other… you get the idea. There are actually now four of them, and they are a very different class from the babbling monsters I had back in March.
We start out our morning routine with “How are you feeling?” Answers vary from the expected (angry, sad, happy, sleepy) to the compound (happysad, angrysleepy, happyangrysad) to the absurd (turtle, dinosaur) to Korean gibberish. Once I’ve managed to drag a reasonable answer out of each and drawn a corresponding face on the board next to their name, we say what the weather is. This normally results in warfare, since there is only one weather sheet onto which the Velcro cloud, sun and rain are stuck, so regardless of how much I rotate and make sure that everyone has a turn, the others will always try to steal it from him.
Eventually the sheet gets onto the board, usually upside down. This instantaneously results in all four children swarming me, wrapping themselves around my legs and chanting “upside down, upside down”. This phenomenon is due to a desperate measure I took in one of my first weeks here, where I got fed up with the boys not understanding the concept of upside down and actually picked one up by the ankles so he got the point. Being 3 years old, he loved it and all the others wanted a turn too. So every day, except when my back simply won’t take it anymore, I find myself swinging the boys around by their ankles while they giggle and shout in mingled Korean and English.
Then it’s time for days of the week. I take down the flashcards from the wall (our walls are made of fabric so we can stick velcroed flashcards to them) and before I have even begun to arrange them on the table, all seven have been stolen. This used to annoy me, but really, the longer I drag this whole routine out, the less time I have to spend trying to find things to keep them happy, since they can really only focus on bookwork for about 10 to 15 minutes at best (sometimes, only 5) and I have 40 minutes a class period to keep them entertained. Eventually I manage to get all seven flashcards on the table, we sing the days of the week song and one lucky child is chosen to put the day on the board. It usually ends up upside down again.
Bookwork itself is unexciting, though I’m sure the whole thing would seem ridiculous to anyone else. I chant things for them to repeat, try to get them to answer questions, and struggle to keep them on their page numbers while they chatter away in Korean, pull faces, and constantly attempt to escape their chairs.
Then comes the dreaded snack time. I hate, loathe and detest snack time. I spend all of snack time cleaning up after spills if we have something liquid, scolding the boys for stealing from each other, keeping them from stuffing so much in their mouths that they can’t breathe and attempting to get them to eat, rather than throw, their food. I still expect to have to perform the Heimlich someday soon, particularly with the new boy who cannot chew and swallow food to save his life. I swear, he’s like a damn chipmunk, wandering around with food stashed in his cheek pockets for later consumption.
With snack completed, we move on to gym time, where I rest for a few minutes and watch them play on the little jungle gym in our school. Once I am mostly recovered we play “sleeping” where I pretend to sleep until they say “cockayo!” (Korean for cockadoodledoo) and then I lunge around trying to tickle them while yelling “Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of a Korean…etc”. Desert Boy caught me doing this the other day and laughed himself silly, however, no one else has a class of 3 year olds, so everyone just lets me do whatever it takes to keep the hooligans entertained.
Then it’s another class with the hellions, which we finish up with song time. The boys beg for “check um chilies” (aka “Shake your Sillies”), a song in which they go running around the room screaming while I protect the CD player. If I’m feeling brave, I convince them to join me in “BINGO” or “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” as well.
An hour and a half has passed at this point, and I feel ready to die. Fortunately, I have my break and then lunch. Lunch is generally a strange concoction of bland Korean foods (we are at a kindergarten after all) and a soup that normally smells to Desert Boy like a golf course. Indifferent, Bodacious Brit, Desert Boy and I eat at our desks, hiding from the children, while the Korean teachers entertain them. During that time, Indifferent is sure to remind us that he only has one break every day, I will mostly likely punch Desert Boy for something offensive that he has said and Bodacious Brit usually says something completely inappropriate for work.
Then it’s onto kindergarten round two. My second class consists of ten four year olds who are considerably more civilized and thus, much cuter than the hellions. Our routines are much more reasonable and I get to feel like a teacher, rather than a performing monkey. We chant, we sing, they color, I direct and everything moves more or less according to plan. The children tattle on each other for speaking Korean every few seconds, pretend to get hurt to get out of class and generally act like children do. It’s refreshing. Though I do have to avoid the psycho killer child who is too busy plotting all of our murders to listen to anything I tell him, gives everyone the death glare, and draws pictures with teeth and fangs even if I have asked them to draw food or playground equipment. I also frequently find myself acting out strange things at the request of the students “Kirin teacher shark! Kirin teacher monster! Kirin teacher flower!”
Then 2:15 rolls around and kindergarten is done. The kiddies are sent on their way and I retreat to my desk to wait for the next onslaught.
Up next: elementary!
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