Christmas in Korea

Christmas is not really a big deal in Korea. Although about half the population is Christian and the other half is Buddhist - roughly. Christmas has definitely not reached the level of commercialism as the U.S. and other Western countries.
Students and employees only get the day of Christmas off from school or work and it is not a family holiday. People spend the day with their significant others or friends, rather than family. It's much more like Valentine's Day is celebrated in the U.S.
I had plans to spend Christmas in Seoul with friends. There was a "12 Pubs of Christmas" Party in Seoul that I was soooo looking forward to.
However, given that I had spent the two weeks before Christmas sick as a dog and I was sporting a wicked ear infection and a nearly-ruptured eardrum, I thought better of spending Christmas with 10 1/2 million of my nearest and dearest in Seoul.
Instead I dogsat for a couple of my friends who went home and went to Seoul for the holiday. I spent the day watching movies and polishing off a nice bottle of Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon. It was quite blissful, actually. It even snowed on the evening of Christmas! I was so excited!!!!
Would have been really fun to hit those 12 pubs though.

A Battle of the Sickest

I've been quite sick for a couple weeks. I've been hacking, dealing with a headache and fever and blowing my nose every 2 seconds.
I've had to go to the doctor twice, which is so much fun when neither you nor the doctor speak the other's language, and I have to go again on Monday. I've been on two rounds of antibiotics. I had a fever and have an ear infection. I still can't hear out of my right ear. This is only the second ear infection I've had in my life. I never had an ear infection when I was a kid. Shit is actually oozing out of my ear. I've never had anything ooze out of any of my orifices and, on my sickest day, Agnes says I absolutely must teach my 8-9:30 p.m. adult class. I had to attend my 7-8:30 a.m. class that morning, but I was able to skip my classes during the afternoon. I guess I should be thankful I got out of working during the day.
Agnes kept calling my phone starting at about 6:30 p.m. and I ignored the calls because I was trying to sleep. Literally two minutes after her last call I hear a bang on my apartment door. Guess who it was?! Agnes ran over to my apartment because she "thought I may have fallen down." Umm, don't you think if I was sick and weak enough to have fallen down then I'm probably too sick to lead an English class for two hours? Just a thought.
She said there was absolutely no way around it, I absolutely had to be there to teach the class. She couldn't teach it because she had something to do, she said.
"We need to cancel it then," I say.
She had a look of absolute shock and confusion, like the idea didn't even occur to her.
"We absolutely can not cancel the class, the students won't be able to make it up," she said.
My lack of caring could not be conveyed in a convincing enough manner for her.
"You absolutely have to be there," Agnes added. "All the Korean teachers were complaining all day about how long their day was."
I teach a 45-minute class for each teacher each day. They each had to work an extra 45 minutes more than their normal schedule because I had a fever and funky goo oozing from my throbbing ear. They come to work at 2:30 p.m. and leave at 5:30 p.m. or, at the latest, 6:30 p.m. every day. And they were complaining.
Are you kidding me?
I start some days at 7 a.m. and don't get out of there until 9:30 p.m. every night. Did I mention something is oozing from my head?
I said to Agnes, "Well, I guess since you're clearly not giving me an option, I have to be there. This is ridiculous, but I'll see you at 8."
With that, she stood right up, said, "Ok, thanks Erika," and she left my apartment. "Be sure to lock your door behind me."
If I had the strength I would have had the door hit her on her way out.
I want to hurt her.
I get to the school a few minutes before my 8 p.m. class and Agnes tells me I have a new student in the class tonight. For some reason this was just enough to set me over the edge.
I completely unleashed on Agnes. I was screaming at her saying it was asinine and completely ridiculous that I was being forced to teach this class when I was as sick as I was and could barely stand . She kept trying to speak, but I kept talking over her. I went on about how I thought it was ludicrous that the other teachers were complaining about how they had to work an extra 45 minutes that day. Agnes said that I get paid more than the other teachers and I told her I should get paid more than them, I work twice as many hours as they do and my hours are far more spread out and sporadic.
She just kept smiling at me, which I know is part of the Korean culture, but it really irritated me. You are also not supposed to disagree with an elder or a boss. You are supposed to go along with whatever they say. I clearly don't operate that way. Apparently that's the American in me. Agnes is 33 and my boss. Double whammy. But I didn't care, I was furious.
I told her that I was not happy about the situation and I was feeling very much like I was being taken advantage of, but clearly that didn't matter to her.
Then I left her standing there and attempted to teach my class.
After the class was finally over, I felt a little bad about the way I had spoken to Agnes. But, the feeling quickly passed and I made my way back to my apartment to pass out again.

Birthday Shenanigans

I've had a special request to reiterate my birthday activities, so I will do my best to piece the events together.

Editor's Note: Names and identifying characteristics have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent and certain elements have been left out entirely...

I met up with a couple friends of mine in the early morning to catch the bus to Seoul. I had plans of roaming around the city and my two friends had plans of heading to jiu jitsu class. We parted on our merry little ways once we got to Seoul, with plans to meet up that evening.
I didn't really have a plan or destination. I just started walking and if a street looked interesting I would head down it. I walked all over the city and hiked up to the N. Seoul Tower, walked around a cathedral where there appeared to be a wedding taking place, went to a giant bookstore and basically ambled along through the streets and subway lines of Seoul.
I had plans to meet up with my friends at a foreign/Korean social gathering near a university district of Seoul. The meeting is held every month and it brings Korean people and foreigners living in S. Korea together to talk English. It helps the foreigners meet new people and gives the Koreans an opportunity to practice their English. Of course beer is involved.
I met up with my friends and then was immediately sat at a table next to two Korean women and an incredibly annoying guy from somewhere in the U.S. He introduced himself to me and didn't shut up all night. I kept trying to escape and move from table to table, yet he always managed to hunt me down.
He asked for my number and, attempting to pull my usual ploy, gave him faulty digits. He then tried calling me so "I would have his number." Crap. When he realized he wasn't calling my number, I had to pull the 'ole "What number did you call? Oh! You punched in a 9 instead of an 8." Damn. Now he's got my number. I did save his number under the pretense that if he did call or text I could avoid that call from "Obnoxious John" like the plague and not just answer blindly.
I ended up playing drinking games with a couple Korean women and a guy with an accent that I couldn't quite place and who spent way too much time at the gym and drinking Creatine.
The bar that was hosting the Korean/Foreign social club wanted us all out of there at 9:30 p.m. so we decided to take our party elsewhere. We ended up going to a restaurant that someone at the social club had called ahead. There was food already boiling in pots on the table and bottles of soju lining the tables. I was definitely not looking forward to the soju. It tastes terrible, literally like rubbing alcohol, and it gets you crazy drunk crazy fast. And don't even get me started on the hangover...
I was sitting next to my Irish friend, Bernie, and this girl can drink. She also knew it was my birthday the next day. So, naturally, we had to start celebrating now and then really get the party started at midnight. B and I were sitting in front of a few American guys who were stationed in Korea with the Air Force. the four of us decided drinking four shots of soju in a row was a really great idea. B and I then decided mutually that we should really slow down on the soju if we wanted to make it to midnight.
There were simmering pots of food in the center of the tables. There were mussels and floating pig skin. The skin is soggy and spongy and not the least bit appealing, so I stuck with the mussels.
During the "soju break-time" I moved down the table to talk to my friend, Jack. He's generally a quiet guy and he and I have had many interesting converstations about our experiences in Korea and elsewhere.
While chatting with Jack, the clock struck midnight and the entire restaurant stood up and sang "Happy Birthday." Quite unexpected to have all the patrons at a restaurant stand up and sing happy birthday to you in downtown Seoul. Then my friend, Simon, comes over to me, grabs me around the waist, smiles broadly and said it was time for "Birthday Bumps."
Huh?!
Six guys came over to me, grab various parts of my body and toss me up into the air... 28 times, once for each birthday. All I could do was laugh and scream as all the men counted up to 28 with each heave of my body into the air. Simon had been planning to do this the whole night and had quietly organized the "bumpers." I don't think they quite realized how heavy I am - I am most definitely not a petite Korean chick.
Thoroughly embarrassed, they set me down and I inquire about the health of their backs. I sit back down in front of Jack and B ends up joining us. We get back on the soju horse. It always sounds like such a great idea at the time.
We eventually run out of credit at the restaurant and decide to move on. "Obnoxious John" decides he wants to join us to our next destination. I want to go wherever he doesn't. There's six of us who plan our next move. We get in a huddle and decide our next party stop. Obnoxious John gets in a cab with a couple other people, we tell him a destination and then we get in a cab behind him and head to the other side of the city. Alcohol can bring out the asshole in everyone.
We get to the third and, thank god, final bar and order a 3-liter jug of beer. I took one swig of beer and immediately decided I was done. When I start getting dizzy and the world starts looking like a kaliedescope, it's time to call it a night. I had to close one eye to focus -- never a good sign.
I replaced the beer with water and the rest of the crew kept ordering more jugs, except Simon, he decided he was done, too.
It was about 2:30-3 a.m. when we got back on the subway, make a short pit-stop at KFC and made our way to the hostel Simon had so intelligently booked for the evening. None of the rest of us had made any plans for where we were going to stay that night - just figured it would all work out.
We get to the room and there is a keypad where we need to punch in a code to get access to the room. The code was 1,2,3,4, not too difficult to remember no matter what state you are in. Simon kept punching in the code over and over again, but the door would not open. Finally some very nice guy sleeping in the room opened the door for us.
The six of us pile into the room at about 3:30 in the morning, still drunk off our asses, while there are three complete strangers sleeping in the room.
We're stumbling along, trying to be quiet, obviously not being quiet, and make our way to any beds or floor we can find. There are three bunkbeds on the main floor and then there is a loft with three single beds.
I go climbing up the ladder to the loft and realize how hot it is up there and make my way back down the ladder. How I didn't eat shit down the ladder still amazes me.
There were only top bunks available, so B, Jack and I had to climb over sleeping travelers to get to the beds. B accidently dropped the backpack she was carrying from the top bunk and it made a loud crash. The chick sleeping on the bottom bunk of my bed yells "Jesus Christ!" sits straight up and smacks her forehead on the bottom of the top bunk. Then she yells, "Who's bag is that?!" We all fell silent, trying desperately to stifle our laughter.
The chick was not impressed with our drunken wake-up call. I had to sleep above this pissed-off woman and climb over her stuff to get to my bed for the night.
After shaking the metal bed sufficiently in the climb up to the top bunk, I finally peacefully passed out.
I woke up to two men talking and rummaging about the kitchen at an ungodly hour -- 10 a.m. The axe splitting my head suddenly reminded me why I should really stop drinking excessive amounts of soju until the wee hours of the morning.
I opened up one eye just enough to let a slit of light in. Simon and bottom bunk #2 guy were talking. Simon was entirely too chipper for this time of the morning.
I opened my mouth and I swear dust flew out. My raspy, dry voice said only one word... "Waahhter," and I outstretched one hand from the confines of the top bunk. Luckily the pissed off chick in the bottom bunk had departed for the day.
Simon laughed and said, "For you darling, anything." He placed a coffee mug of water in my hand and I brought the blessed necter of the Gods to my lips, sitting up as little as humanly possible.
One sip was all I could muster at that point as I laid back down on the pillow. I had to drink the mug of water in 15-minute increments. The severe altitude of the top bunk was just too much for my over-indulged state.
I was eventually laying in the fetal position around the mug of water, protecting it with every bit of energy and balance I could muster. After about three sessions of sipping I slipped back into unconciousness.
I awoke about three hours later to Jack exiting the shower. I was still wrapped around the mug of water. I rolled over and propped myself on one elbow and drained the remainder of the water into my shriveled body.
Luckily by this time of the day, the hostel was empty save for my friends and fellow over-served compatriots.
I took stock. I had lost my shirt somewhere in the room and was lying in my jeans and a tank top. I had no idea as to the whereabouts of my bag, camera, phone or coat. And there was a tender bump on my forehead. There was snoring and moaning coming from the loft and B was staring at me through slit and glassy eyes from the top bunk at the foot of my bed.
Everyone slowly departed from the loft and I made a couple comical attempts at descending the metal bunkbed ladder. I eventually located my coat, bag, camera, phone AND shirt in the loft. I had missed two phonecalls from my parents on this, my actual, birthday. I called them back attempting to piece together the evening's events. I would have to call them back after I looked at all the pictures.
The six of us eventually made our way out of the hostel the same way we came, stumbling along and fumbling under the weight of our belongings. Check-out time was 11 a.m., we finally crawled out after 2 p.m.
We headed to the subway to get to the "Wolfhound," an Irish pub in a section of Seoul called Itaewon. The jostling and over-abundance of bodies on the subway was an absolute joy. Our eyeballs looked like a roadmap and we were all sweating soju and Korean beer. Not a whole lot of talking occurred on that subway ride.
I had no idea where we were or where we were going. I just kept following the group of white people, holding on to various jackets and backpacks when necessary. We made it to the Wolfhound and praise all that is good in the world for Irish breakfasts served all day long. Eggs, hashbrowns, toast, beans (I don't even like beans), sausage and juice.
Some poor schmuck at the bar kept passing out on the bar. He was D-to-the-RUNK. Seems his party continued a bit longer than ours. He had a full, untouched Bloody Mary on the bar in front of him, but he was sitting on the bar stool, all alone, with his head on the bar. The poor little Korean waitress was trying to tell him to move on, but he wasn't budging.
Eventually, the waitress, the bartender and one of the patrons got him out of the restaurant/bar. However, as we were walking down the stairs from the Wolfhound to go back out into the street, the poor drunkard was fully passed-out in the corner of the stairs. We all snickered at his snoring in the hallway and walked out into the rainy Sunday afternoon in Seoul.
And that is how I partied way too hard in Seoul and ended up with a wicked, but totally worth it, hangover on my 28th birthday. But I still have no idea where the bump on my forehead came from...

Brrrrrrrrr

I'm convinced Korean people have ice running through their veins. They (or maybe it's just Agnes) refuse to turn on the heat and as soon as I do, they complain about how hot it is.
They keep all the windows and doors wide open. Meanwhile, I'm completely freezing my ass off. I'm from a cold area, I should be used to the frigidness. However, I spend the majority of the time in class complaining about how cold it is.
I drink enough hot tea in a day to drown a whale and I wear my coat and scarf all day long. Also, I walk everywhere I go so I'm constantly outside in the cold or in a cold school building.
The Korean women where tights, short skirts or shorts and high heels everywhere they go. I recently discovered how they can manage this with zero-percent body fat. The tights are lined with fleece. It's absolute genius!! But I still think I would need a little bit more padding to be walking around in the cold, snowy weather.
Thank God I brought all my snowboarding clothes. I might just start wearing that to work everyday. Screw looking cute.

My What Big Eyes You Have!!

It finally happened. I have been called fat (to my face) by a Korean. Obviously I've known that they've been saying this the whole time, just not in a language I could understand. But yesterday a student said it very clearly in English.
Actually, he said I was "fat and big," because clearly there needs to be a distinction between the two words. What I find even more humorous is that this kid would be considered obese by American standards and don't even get me started on what he would be considered by Asian standards. I'm surprised his parents let him out of the house, because Korean people are obsessively concerned with the image they portray. (Not bitter, not at all.) I'm actually shocked it took 6 weeks for this to be uttered in English in my presence.
Also, I was having lunch yesterday with my school director, Agnes, and she told me that some of the students are afraid of me because I'm so tall and because my eyes are so big. I literally laughed out loud in the middle of the restaurant.
"Well, there's really not a whole lot I can do about that," I said.
She told me to try to smile at them and be nice to them.
What the hell have I been doing for the last month and a half?!!! Yeah, ok, whatever Agnes, I'll get right on that. I highly doubt me doing anything different from what I'm currently doing will make any sort of difference in the way the Korean children view me. But thank you for this enlightening lesson on our cultural differences...

Name Calling

So I've now been in South Korea for nearly 6 weeks and I've been called many things since landing in the R.O.K. (Republic of Korea).

I've been called a Meegook, which means American. I've been called a Waegook, which means foreigner. I'm pretty sure it's a bad thing that Americans get their own special variation of "gook". We don't get to be grouped with all the other foreigners like Waegooks do. Or, it could be a good thing? They do seem to like us Americans here, for the most part. I also find it troublesome that "gook" is used. Isn't that a racial slur?

I've also been called the obvious "foreigner" and I've been called a "native," as in "native English speaker." I've even been called a Yank, which still baffles me. I'm from Montana for God's sake, pretty damn far from the East coast. But I was called a Yank in Australia, too. Everyone from America is a "Yank" as soon as you leave North American soil.

But my favorite name-calling experience thus far is.... wait for it, wait for it..... a Russian. Which to the common eye, would seem slightly odd that I would be called a Russian. However, Koreans think Russians are prostitutes. Yep, the Koreans think I'm a prostitute. I'll pause for the laughter to die down...........


Please, by all means, keep going....................


Couldn't possibly be the blond hair and long legs, could it?

When I'm approached by a Korean man and asked if I'm a Russian I know to turn around and walk the other way.