Please Leave your Shoes at the Door

I enter the door of Cheonanyoungam elementary school for the first time after sleeping just a few hours from my journey that lasted more than twenty-four hours. I am exhausted and anxious about the new opportunity that awaits me on the other side of the double glass doors to this large brick building an entire block long. Just three steps in and my new manager stops me and points to my shoes. Then directs me to the cubbyholes where the slippers for guests are kept and instructs me to take mine off and replace them with the slippers that have Korean writing along the top. I internally smirk at the idea that I brought with me a good pair of shoes just to be professional at work and I will never where them in the building during my one year commitment here as an esl teacher.

For many years, I have practiced the Buddhist tradition of taking off footwear before entering the home. The physical and mental decision to leave the outside world outside has been valuable and supportive to me in my spiritual development. During my two weeks of notice before coming to Korea, I had forgotten that detail and was not aware that in Korea, public schools are treated like homes and no shoes are worn in the building.

As cumbersome as it can be when leaving for lunch or something to switch back and forth between shoes and slippers, I enjoy working in slippers. I like teaching in slippers and the feeling of warmth and family that it creates. Besides, they are much more comfortable and relaxing to stand all day teaching. I bought my own pair to keep at the school and the vice-principal who is very worried how a man who is single will survive alone in Korea has given me my very own cubbyhole near the middle entrance to keep my slippers in.

When parents or even construction-type workers enter the building, they either bring their own slippers or wear the guest pairs available to anyone. It brings me great joy to see men gutting and putting together the two new computer rooms and the new English teachers office in a form of slippers. Quite different than the heavy work boots that men wear when working in the USA. It reminds me of a piece on 60 Minutes I watched five years ago after a football game about mowing the lawn and gender. The reporter explained how men wear heavy work boots when mowing the lawn with clothes built for protection from something dangerous. He then showed brief videos of women mowing the lawn in pretty sundresses and sandals with summer hats and fashionable sunglasses. His point was that men see any kind if outdoor work as an expression of their manhood and women try to find a way to enjoy experiences when possible (and get a “tan”) and see no reason to put on their “battle fatigues” to mow the lawn. This is the image I maintain in my head about the contrast of intention and mentality of men that are Korean and American. One is proving the size of his penis while the other is proving that being a man includes caring about children and the sense of home.

This is one of the ways that Koreans make schools feel like an extension of home to children. There is no feeling if sterility, austerity or power from the teachers to the students. The kids offer too much respect for that to happen, even if a teacher thought that it might be helpful. Kids do not give teachers the finger, curse at them, sit in the back of the class with hands folded sulking or storm out of the room dramatically. A child would not do this because it is not what you do to teachers AND it would be embarrassing to act that way in front of your friends. It would demonstrate traits that children do not appreciate, so to act that way would cause them to be friendless and lose respect from their teacher and parents. Here, losing respect is a big deal and something that children work very hard to avoid. They want to be thought of as smart, hard working and caring, anything less is a reason for a child to cry out of internal shame.

I enjoy living and working in a land where slippers are worn in homes and schools, and a sense of home is more important than a sense of self-importance among principals, teachers, parents and kids.

Korean Expectations

Be Nice, always
Be Happy, always
Be Respectful, always
Be Healthy, always
Be Yourself, always
Be Genuine, always
Be Smart, always
Be your Best, always
Be a Family Representative, always
Be part of Life, always
Be Open, always
Be Honest, always
Be Joy, always
Be Gratitude, always
Be Educated, always
Be Humble, always
Be, always

August Nights In Cheonan

It is a cool night for August in Cheonan. The humidity is still present, I can tell by the moisture in my apartment from the shirts, socks, underwear and slacks hanging to dry. We have not had many nights like this in the five weeks I have been here. I take advantage of the break in the heat and venture out for an evening walk with a stomach full of tofu, potatoes and carrots sautéed over green cabbage and a large fresh vegetables salad with sunflower seeds on top. The oil and vinegar dressing I made reminds of home, my mother.

I walk out the front door of the Darae House where I live across the stone and cement walkway to the street cattycornered from the Blue Café still trying to seduce me in its doors unsuccessfully. I pass the Cozy Café again peering in and wondering if it is really a café, or is it another code word for bar. Everything else on Ssang-yongdong gil is restaurants with Korean names I cannot yet understand but can read without any comprehension. I turn right up the slight incline to the main street in the Ssang-yongdong neighborhood before I get to the Police station with policemen always outside smoking cigarettes, since they seem to have little else to do. I have been here five weeks and have not seen or heard anything producing evidence of crime in this mid-sized city of a half million people. Next to the station is a lighted park with some cement seats and a basketball court with teenage boys shooting hoops. A boy of about 6’2” is playing against two boys and beating them badly, he has skills and knows it. I cross the street and see many families and young people playing soccer, basketball, badminton and just hanging around the dirt and gravel lot of Cheonanyoungam elementary school where I am a teacher. I smile knowing that fun, family and community continue there long after I go home. I like this school and the family-based feeling it manifests. I continue around the corner to an area of the neighborhood I have not ventured to yet except by #14 bus to downtown Cheonan.

They have nice wide sidewalks made for comfortable walking for families and relaxation. Koreans love to enjoy a casual walk after dinner till late at night. They are out most nights as individuals with iPods, couples holding hands, teens walking home from English academies and families being families. I notice the soft, gentle pace of all the walkers, none have on designated walking outfits, none are with equipment to lose weight, and none are running in tight Lycra displaying their bodies. They are walking for walking sake. They look happy with smiles on their faces evidencing the simplicity of an activity of peace, community and health. It is refreshing walking on these rose, yellow and green tiled cement walkways without observing people jogging in complete misery desperate to lose another three pounds. No misery walking in Korea. Walking is for health, not appearance.

After a mile or so, I mean about fifteen hundred kilometers, (I couldn’t resist); I walk up an incline to little park with benchs and a center resting area. I sit and stare at the clouds hovering above; they are white, soft and mostly still. The gentle breeze is not enough to get them moving, so I can see and take time to watch. A young girl of about eight or nine runs up the hill excited, quickly looks at me and sits across from me to look at the foreigner. She is careful to not be rude- her glances are brief and non-direct. Since she is young, I know she can speak some English, I assume that is why she is here in the first place. Young kids love to practice their limited English on foreigners.

I say, “Hello”.
She smiles, containing her excitement and replies, “Hi!” She looks away to not seem eager or disrespectful to an adult, especially a foreigner. A moment later, she gets up, says, “Good-bye”, glances at me briefly and runs down the hill and across the thin side street. She is back a few minutes later while I am still staring and appreciating the clouds and the trees. I say, “Hello” again to make her feel welcome. Kids here cannot wait to say “Hello” to anyone who will let them. I am a willing participant at any opportunity I can get. Who would not want to be the focus of these beautiful, excited smiles?
I get up to leave, and say “Good-bye” again.
She says, “Bye Bye”.
I ask, “How are you?”
“I am fine” she responds in perfect English as if she has done so every day of her life.
“Nice to meet you” I say knowing they are all taught to say this.
“Nice to meet you too.” She bows, as do I. I walk away smiling from ear to ear, she is beaming next to her little brother.

The walk back to my space is full of breathing in the night air, noticing young kids out walking, talking and riding bikes after ten at night and feeling Blessed to be here in Korea. I reflect for a moment on how I will ever be able to return to a land without bowing, casual walking, friendliness, cops too bored to do anything but smoke cigarettes and families enjoying the night without regard for the hour embracing now and this moment. I have a flinch of shame over how many nights I have been too lazy or distracted to make my evening walk here in Cheonan to remember life and why it is so special. I stop at Tous les Jous and buy their last baguette for the night for the equivalent of $1.50. I walk with it in my right hand past folks sitting on the floor of the restaurant on my right just before I turn towards my street. Again, I peer in the windows of the Cozy Café without discerning any more than the other ten times I have tried and failed. This was a great walk. I walk up the steps to the second floor, entering my apartment and clothes hanging on my hand made indoor clothesline. It is good to be home and actually have a home.

American TV Reruns in Korea

It is amusing to see which American TV shows turn up on Korean Digital cable. The other night I saw Windfall, which did not make it through its first season in America but is shown nightly in Korea with subtitles. Dexter, whatever that show is about, is also on nightly, as well as How I Met Your Mother. I have not seen any of these shows in the USA and do not feel all that motivated to watch them here. The one that I was totally surprised to see here was a show that only lasted a few episodes on CW named Hidden Palms. I wonder if Koreans think that they are watching the best of American TV or are they aware that they are getting many throw away series that can only recoup their investments by selling them to unknowing subscribers elsewhere. Or am I the fool that thinks that these subscribers are blind. Maybe they know that they have an audience market here that was not successful in the U.S. Is there really a market for Windfall and Hidden Palms subtitled here in Korea?

With there being several questionable reruns here, shows that have been very successful in America like Greys Anatomy, 30 Rock and Boston Legal are also shown regularly on some of the Fox affiliates in Korea. Fox is the sole American Network that has several prominent cable channels in Korea. Almost all of the English TV shows from America are on one of the Fox affiliates, somehow I feel like a hypocrite by watching anything connected to Fox TV but I too enjoy a distraction from time to time, TV is one of them. Along with plenty of comedy, drama, drama, drama and reality TV, Korea includes some programming for those with finer tastes interested in Korean history and culture will not be disappointed, as long as they speak HanGul. If not, Arirang is the English option that will demonstrate Korea for tourists and foreigners alike.

Oh yeah, one more thing, digital cable costs less here than basic cable in the U.S. and the service is more personal, they even schedule around your needs in about one day notice and the installation is done by people who treat their customers with respect- there is no “you are lucky we came” attitude here. Just another example of traditional culture surviving in the modern world. The installer will bow at your door and take of their shoes, replace them with their own slippers and ask you if they can come in. Welcome to Korea.

A Korean Resaurant

“Annyeong-haseyo”

You will always hear this when you enter a Korean restaurant. It is the greeting for Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening, and they mean it. They will shout this out from the kitchen if they hear somebody enter. There is not a clinical or air of western austerity, just a warm welcome, a bow and a tray with little metal cups and a 1 liter glass bottle of water from the tap you can pour yourself at your leisure. Often the cook, host, owner and wait staff is all the same person.

If you choose a traditional restaurant, you will see a rack at the door when you enter to take your shoes off before entering the dining room. There will be a slight elevation to distinguish the entrance for the dining room; they don’t waste space on hallways and things like that, everything is used. Some nicer restaurants will have slippers for you to wear while dining, if not bare feet or socks will do fine. Traditional seating is on the floor, again, nicer places will offer you flat cushions to sit on if you desire. It is fun seeing mothers with children and businesspeople dressed professional all seated on the floor enjoying their meals.

The utensils, metal chopsticks and a soup spoons, are typically in a little box with a clear glass lid where you can take your eating utensils for yourself, along with a napkin holder with napkins that resemble tissues more than napkins in their thickness and size, nothing is wasted. The floor typically will have a thin piled rug for each table and a real wooden table in a rectangular shape. It is not unusual for strangers to share the same table, nothing is wasted and everybody is family.

If you do not speak or read HanGul, ordering can be tricky, even traumatic at times. If you stare and look stupid long enough they will just bring you something traditional and smile warmly. They know foreigners do not typically eat food as spicy as theirs, so they will bring you a milder dish. There is no judgment for foreigners lack of knowledge, they feel worse about it than the customer because they really want you to feel comfortable and at home. Quickly they will scurry away to bring the order to the kitchen and return with another tray full of “side dishes” that are to be shared by everyone directly from the dishes they come in. There are no separate plates/bowls for each person with the exception of receiving a small cup of a broth-like soup similar to Miso soup to cleanse the palette before the meal, nothing is wasted. It is fun to share food; it breeds warmth, conversation and closeness while enjoying the meal. The side dishes typically will include a small dish of Kimchi and another small dish of pickled yellow radish sliced thinly, those are the two most common. You may also find various forms of cooked greens with sesame or some other delicious sauce; small strips of seasoned pork, a flavored ground and textured bean paste or substance, or other pickled vegetables. It all comes free with your meal, as does the broth-like soup. While you are picking on the side dishes, your main meal will be served. Most meals are made to be eaten individually but some are for more than one person and to be shared like all the other foods on the table. If you are struggling with chopsticks, they gladly will bring you a fork without laughing or being insulted, they understand and accept differences. Most meals come with a small bowl of rice in a metal bowl with a metal lid that can be taking on and off to keep the rice warm, or noodles. There are rarely breads with a meal. One of the most enjoyable features of Korean food is that meals have compatible foods that go with each other for taste, digestion and nutrition, all is on balance with each other. The exception is the Korean versions of fast food like fried or BBQ chicken. Most meals are based with a sauce of either red pepper, which is very spicy and hot, or a bean paste, except for meals that are stews, which can be anything that tastes and belongs together. The juicy stews are such good meals and you will never leave without being full and satisfied with your body happy and smiling.

One area where my ego is out of balance is related to the consumption of food, specifically, quantity. I have always eaten more than small families and when I was younger I thought that was something to be proud of like drinking more beer than others, which I also did as well when younger. Korean meals are made to leave you feeling full and satisfied. They are not based on leaving you still unsatiated so you will order desert, they want you pleased and full. It is very difficult to finish all the food on the table, very difficult. It is expected you will leave some of your side dishes or rice uneaten, it is not considered offensive to the cook, they want you to be full and complete when you leave. Many restaurants will offer you a small cup of green tea or coffee flavored like some kind of latte-type thing for free when you are done.

At most local neighborhood establishments, you will eat all that I mentioned made to perfection for the equivalent of between $4-7, yes, you read that correctly, less than eight dollars is the typical meal outside of Seoul, and not much more in Seoul. They do not change the prices or quantities for lunch and dinner; you get the same good value and quantity every time you eat. One other thing, they do not change their menus often and typically only have one or two “specials” which are not really specials since they are part of the printed menu on the wall. Special means a little bit more expensive, like the equivalent of two dollars and includes more ingredients.

As someone who has been a professional cook and finds cooking to be one of my favorite activities, it is hard to choose not to go out to eat, since it is such good food, warm atmosphere and cheaper than preparing your own meals. Like if McDonalds starting making real food by real people that was healthier than what you can make at home but in a delightful atmosphere. Hard to get motivated to go to the store and put together a meal when you can walk a block in any direction and have ten choices to eat, much like most NYC neighborhoods but cheaper than home, better quality and taste. There is no tipping as an added charge, and they include taxes in the price of the meal. It really costs what it says it costs. They don’t need a tip to serve you well; they do it because that is what you do here. If all else sucked for me in Korea, which is doesn’t, I would stay here for the food till I learned how to make all the dishes traditionally. The food and atmosphere is worth the trip all by itself.

On the way out, “Anyeonghi-gaseo” goodbye, and another bow while you are putting your shoes back on your feet smiling from a great meal and good people. Welcome to Korea.

Couch Surfing In South Korea

One of the most positive and fruitful experiences I have had on the Internet was finding out about and becoming an active member of The CouchSurfing Project.

The CouchSurfing Project is a non-profit organization that has grown to over 675,000 members hosting each other throughout the world when traveling. Members of the community will host you in their homes for no charge and welcome you to your current destination. “Surfers”, the name for those whom are traveling, may find themselves sleeping on a big bed in a private room, or an office with a fold-up cot, a library with a futon, a living room with a couch and sometimes even an air mattress or the floor of a den. The hosts profile will describe exactly what they can offer you, so you know in advance what to expect of and if the accommodations are acceptable to your needs. Most of the Couchsurfers homes I have stayed in have welcomed and offered me to eat or use whatever I need in their space, others express clearly what they are or not comfortable with.

There are some community members who may not be able to or willing offer housing, but do offer to meet for a coffee or drink, and help you feel welcome and safe on the road. This is also a very positive experience for those who want to support travelers but, are not in a position to offer their homes. The sense of meeting community members while traveling is very comforting when traveling to a place I have not been before. Often they will help you find places or services you are looking for and/or show you around to the sights and experiences that a travel guide may not know about or be able to provide for you.

The relationships that I have established that were born through my CouchSurfing experiences are ones I will maintain for as long as possible. I have met and interacted with some quite amazing people and we shared our lives, pain and joys with each other- to me, that is the foundation of community; a rare commodity while traveling.

Since landing in South Korea, I have sent emails to meet other CouchSurfers locally. They have been both native Koreans and folks living here from elsewhere. I am glad to say that the small but motivated CouchSurfing community here in South Korea is thriving and alive. If you are looking to visit or move to South Korea and want to become part of a community of folks trying to bring the world a little closer and safer together, I invite you to explore and become a member of The CouchSurfing Project. The web address is http://www.couchsurfing.com

If you want any help with or someone to connect with, my username is michaelsits. I encourage you to contact me if you feel moved, and Happy Surfing!

Rediscovering Latin American Soul in Seoul

Discovering Latin American Soul in Seoul

I spent part of my afternoon at Deoksugung Palace and the Korean National Museum of Art after escaping Itaewon and all the American tourists buying Puma or Nike sneakers, Gap shorts and Levis jeans in Seoul, South Korea. I have never understood why Americans fly all over the world to go shopping for things they can purchase at their local mall. It is not like America doesn’t have enough malls, although I am not a very good American tourist, I must have missed the class on how to be a quality American tourist no matter where you go.

The Palace was elegant, homey, fun and stirred some old memories from different times and places from before I was michael. I have been here before; not as who I am today in this body. It’s nice to visit home away from home every now and then. My heart felt full of times when I lived more focused and committed than I do today. There was no remorse for the steps I have taken backwards, it was more about remembering who I am, and what and where I have come from as a human and as a Presence.

As invigorating as the Palace experience was for me, the art museum reached deeper. It never occurred to me while riding the yellow, orange, brown and blues lines downtown that I would end up at a Korean art museum exhibiting Latin American art in downtown Seoul. I giggled internally when walking up the steps and could feel the smirk on my face.

The exhibit rocked. Each viewing room and its theme touched a different part of me. The first room full of work expressing The Revolution connected with The Revolutionary in me that is never too far from the surface. Diego Rivera’s work got me the most fired-up with his passion and use of colors and texture that soothe and stir simultaneously.

The exhibit on mixing of cultures and races with black, brown and every shade of woman in between with their varied bodies, fashion, joy and pain reminded me of how long women have struggled for recognition and respect.

The final two rooms exhibited work focused on cultural and individual identity. Of course, this is when I felt most connected with the artists and the brushstrokes and heart strokes of their lives as people. Folks seemed to be moved by Frida Cahlo’s pieces the most, me, it was the force of Wilfredo Lam, Alexandro Xul Solar and Roberto Matta Echaurren.

Apparently I needed a dose of Latin American culture while visiting Seoul. I am grateful to have experienced such beauty and passion here next to City Hall in Seoul.

Two Old Friends

Earlier today while waiting for the Orange #3 line subway to downtown Seoul, I observed something that has stayed with me all day.

A gentleman of at least sixty-five years of age was patiently, relaxing seated on a slatted wooden bench next to two women far enough away to probably not be traveling together. He had that soft comfortable face that demonstrates successful life; one that has obtained success economically, socially and lovingly. His eyes were focused in a non-focused manner. He looked like he could sit there all day in his off-white cotton pants and white shirt with thin stripes were those of a man who can buy anything but doesn’t need to impress anyone any more.

All of a sudden, his expression changed to elation with his brown eyes wide, cheeks full and warm smile exuding joy. He immediately stood up as he sees a friend walking towards him. They both looked so happy and surprised to see each other. I didn’t need to speak the language or understand HanGul to recognize that.

His friend was dressed similarly with thicker stripes on his shirt and slightly darker pants. They both looked like what happens when life works.

The thin striped man gestured for his friend to sit next to him on the bench. The energy and exchanges of words, smiles and warmth filled me up, as it did even more so to both of them beaming for all to see in Suseo station. They mad me want to be old, to have experienced enough peaks and valleys to know they are neither peaks nor valleys, and just keep on walking.

It provides such hope to me to witness men sharing these kinds of moments together. The moments were extended when it turned out they were both going to the same place, or just decided to after talking. I sat next to them to continue to soak up the appreciation of these two old friends that bumped into each other while waiting for the Orange #3 line going towards Dahwia. I didn’t go that far. I followed the advice of everyone I spoke to that said I should go to Itaewon, “Where all the foreigners are”. My gut told me that foreigners meant white tourists shopping and looking for American culture in the heart of Seoul, South Korea. My suspicion was correct, they were all buying Puma, Nike, Louis Vetonne and Levis all the way in Seoul, instead of their local mall. I wished I had listened to my gut and avoided Itaewon altogether and sat next to the two old men and landed wherever they landed.

The richness of their eye contact, soft cheeks, warm words, voice tomes and energy is still with me eight hours later on that same orange #3 line headed back to the suburbs of Bandung. These memories have made this ride almost as enjoyable as the one sitting next to the two old friends riding the orange #3 this afternoon.

7,800 Miles?

Dunkin Donuts, KFC, MacDonalds, Apple Mall, Starbucks, Krispy Kreme, Cafe Latte, suburban clones, OMG, etc.
Isn't this what i left home to get away from?

Augsut 7, 2008- Seoul (Bandung), South Korea

The Korean Haircut

Looking in hair salon and barbershop windows like a stalker in search of his prey, I roamed the streets of Ssang-yangdong neighborhood for a place to get a haircut. No, not the place with the hairdressers in fake brown hair. I’ll pass on the salon with the sign stating their cheapest haircut is 29,000 won, equal to about $29.00 US dollars. I keep looking and staring in windows. As I pass the Lotte Mart on the right across from the Baskin Robbins Ice Cream shop, I see a sign for 4,000 won in the large glass window of a hair place. Of course, it must be 4,000 won for some specific service that is additional to the haircut itself, maybe shampoo or a shave?

I step up the single step to enter their front door and an older man wearing black slacks and a button down shirt comes from the back of the shop and greets me and says, “Do you want a haircut?” in perfect English! What a relief.

I ask, “How much?”

He replies promptly, “Are you a member?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been here before?”

I knew there was a catch or something to the 4,000-won haircut. “No.”

“OK. It is 4,000 won. Do you want a haircut?”

“Yes.”

He points to a seat on the couch on the other side of a coffee table covered with scattered newspapers that have been read and reread throughout the day, or week. “Sit down.”

I sit following orders. I scan the newspapers in HanGul and see a picture of a baseball player. It must be the sports section. I pick it up and remember I cannot read HanGul yet. I put it back down and sit patiently staring at nothing.

Less than five minutes go by and he walks over and says, “OK.” And points to an open station in front of a young woman wearing a nice comfortable black dress with short black hair simple but stylish.

I get up and start to sit and he points to a little plastic covered series of men’s pictures to demonstrate styles of men’s haircuts. They are all cuts made for Asian hair, not my thick, heavy Italian hair. I get nervous thinking of having to pick one that will not be successful for me. He recognizes my confusion and asks, “Do you se a style you want?”

“I would like the same I have but shorter” pointing to my head. As if he didn’t know wear my hair was.

“OK” He then has a brief conversation with the woman about to cut my hair in HanGul and she starts right in while he is still carrying on a conversation with me. “Where are you from?”

“New Jersey, I mean America, right outside of New York City.”

“Good.” He nods his head in affirmation of something and walks away. She is cutting away like a trained technician. In America, it seems there is more of a need for making the customer feel special, cared for. They are not technicians as much as service providers. She was a technician.

At one point about five minutes later, she said something in one word that I did not understand that I think was q question. I just nodded my head yes and hoped I did not just give her permission to shave my head. She continued cutting.

The rest of the haircut was in silence. I have never had a silent haircut before. I am not sure I have even ever had a haircut when I was not flirted with as part of the “service” whether woman or gay man cutting my hair. I closed my eyes and relaxed. One of the benefits of very poor vision is the lack of ability to see your hair being cut. When you put on your glasses after completion, it doesn’t matter if you like it or not; it is already cut.

When I was in my early twenties, I tried wearing hard contacts for a little while. During those few months of dry eyes and always being tired with headaches; I got a haircut at a neighborhood salon by a killer babe with long brownish-black hair, a dangerous body and a soft smile. I saw every chop and clip of my hair falling away for the first time in my life and it was horrific. I stopped wearing haircuts and made a promise to myself I would never wear glasses, contacts or anything else while receiving a haircut again. I have kept my promise so far.

She said something in a short phrase and looked at me for a response. I assumed she was asking me if I liked it or wanted it shorter. I pointed to my glasses with a smile and when she handed them to me gently, I put them on and looked. I liked the cut, simple and short. She is a technician. The man came over and asked, “Is it OK?”

“Yes. Perfect.”

He nods and walked away. She cleaned me up including this really cool wide vacuum hose that took all the little hairs off my scalp and head in just ten seconds! She finishes and nodded at me.

I got up, put my glasses back on and went to see the man at the small black counter near the front door. I asked, “Should I give her a tip?” Since there is no tipping at restaurants, I thought it was a fair question.

He laughed a little and said warmly, “No.” Then a minute later, he added, “If you want to give her 1,000 won that would be OK” I did. The total for my haircut was 5,000-won including tip! This is about $5 US dollars. No flirting or conversations about celebrities while being flirted with and an occasional breast rub against the back of the neck for extra service but she was a technician I and I got a 5,000 won haircut. Things certainly are different here. A haircut costs less than the tip in America. And, I did not have to hear the latest about Britney, Lindsay, Angelina’s new baby or Paris being naked

Kids Running Free

It is nearly 10:00p.m. I am walking home from the grocery store after picking up some soy milk with a picture of a soybean on the outside, red leaf lettuce, ripe bananas and Korean Tofu. I spent the day in downtown Cheonan for the first time by myself. I braved the bus system without any Korean language skills and was successful in my round trip. Of course, along the way I thought, “I must be going the wrong way” at least five times each way. At least the attractive woman with the subtle, warm fragrance eased my fears on the return trip. Yes, I made it safely both ways, walked around downtown, had some Kimpop as a snack in an urban park with concrete, tile and marble foundation and a really neat water fountain that raised and lowered its multiple sprouts. For dinner I enjoyed a Korean table “barbeque” of marinated chicken with peppers, onions and very spicy. It was fun eating it with the leaf lettuce they provided along with the Kimchi, pickled radish and a salad of green cabbage with sweet kiwi yoghurt dressing on top.

It has cooled tonight and the fresh air feels real nice on my skin after a hot scorching day. There are kids walking around in small groups and as individuals. They look happy, safe and free. It is approaching 10:00p.m. and kids are out by themselves on the streets. This would be unheard of back in America. Kids and parents have been programmed to believe all children are unsafe by themselves anywhere, anytime, especially at night in an urban environment. Not here in Cheonan. Kids who barely reach my waist are out food shopping for their families, eating Korean pizza, laughing and playing. There are many girls dressed in their uniforms with grey skirts and white button-down shirts from the private English schools they attend at night. Boys dressed similarly with business casual pants and white dress shirts enjoying the nighttime after their studies eating ice cream on a stick from the convenience store Buy the way. I see one of the students at the school I teach. He is on his blue bike and comes up next to me with his face excited and points, “Teacher!” I pat him on the head, smile and say slowly so he will understand, “Hello. How are you doing?” He is so excited to see his English teacher form America he forgets what those words mean and just says, “Hello” the default setting whenever they don’t know what to say to a native English speaker. I smile at his joy in being able to say anything to me. He waves goodbye, turns his bike in the direction it was originally facing and says “Bye, Bye” in the exact tone and cadence that I used when dong our practice in class the other day.

I enjoy seeing the kids out at night walking around doing their thing. They don’t seem afraid or even think they should be afraid, which is the thing that warms my heart the most. They have not yet been brainwashed into believing they are a target and therefore should run and hide at home or be monitored by their parents or some other paid person 24/7. Not here in Cheonan, maybe in Seoul, but not here in Cheonan- yet. When will the West convince them that kids should be watched every minute of every day and that they are helpless and in danger. That being a kid means you are not capable of much except going to school and helping with making chocolate chip cookies and brownies. These kids are trusted and respected, and they have respect for the parents, teachers (most of the time) and adults in general.
No, not here in Cheonan. Kids here roam the streets at night and play basketball or badminton. At least, not yet.
August 4, 2008

A Land Without Lifting and Separating

It is refreshing to walk down the street and see women’s bodies, well, look like women’s bodies. Since Victoria’s Secret came out with the first Miracle Bra, lifting and separating have become the way of the American female. This is even true with girls in middle school who are still part of the itty-bitty-titty-committee and, therefore, nothing to actually lift or separate. Here in Cheonan, South Korea, I do not think I have seen more than a handful of women who think they need to make the breasts look like something other than a human female and her natural beauty. And by the way, Victoria’s Secret isn’t really a secret, men liking sexy lingerie on the women they love existed way before “Victoria” and her air-brushed models that haven’t eaten since the late eighties shared her “secret” with us.

I have also seen very few women who feel obligated to make sure we see their bra every time they leave the house. It is a fashion and style that I find unattractive and have since it first become popular among the late night bar scene girls about a dozen years ago. I think Madonna was the one responsible for starting this trend but am not certain. Whether it is male or female, I really do not want to see your underwear, even if it is a pink, silk thong. I think being the only person who sees someone’s underwear is half the fun of seeing it. It being public viewing somehow reduces this sense of a private and intimate experience.

The third form of fashion that has come to my attention is the polarity of choices of exposure to the sun in America and here in South Korea. Cute little white girls dedicate their whole summer to “getting a tan”. It is a full-time job that pretty much nullifies any other daytime commitments for many a white college girl. Here in the east, women go to even greater lengths to NOT let their skin change color. In fact, many walk a way around with a special form of umbrella specifically made for shielding a woman from the sun. Woman who are a little older use a different method of limiting exposure of the sun and its rays. They were these neat sun visors that are similar to what many tennis players wear, except it extends out much further blocking exposure to the whole face, not just the eyes.

I have enjoyed observing the differences between cultures and what they see as attractive and what they go to great lengths to avoid. It may be just the novelty of something new and different, but so far, being in a culture where sexuality is not flaunted as openly is refreshing and helpful in supporting me becoming the man I know I am to be. I cannot imagine how much easier it must be for the women.

Korean Cafeteria Food for Kids

My first day at the elementary school I was about to become an English teacher for the next year, was quite overwhelming. I arrived at my new room a little after midnight after leaving Newark, NJ, USA at 9:28a.m. the day before. The cabdriver they had pick me up at the airport brought me directly to my room from Incheon International Airport. The ride took about 80 minutes which I think I fell asleep briefly from the excitement twice. He could not find my room when we got here but eventually he was able to find it. A well-dressed, attractive young woman employee from the nightclub down street helped him. I thought it was interesting that my initiation to Korea was founded on a nightclub girl who looked at me slyly like she already had dibs on me. So far, I have not stepped foot in that club to hunt her down.

As I opened the door to my room to walk in, the taxi driver who spoke minimal English immediately stopped me and pointed to my shoes and the lowered space by the door for me to take them off before entering. I forgot! There was a hand written note informing me that my manger will be by at 11:00a.m. to take me to school. By the time I showered, shaved and unpacked a few things, it was near 3:00a.m. My small studio apartment has a main room with a metal sink, and counter next to the double gas burners across from the half-sized fridge. There is a desk for me to work at and a tiny mounted table to eat at with two chairs with yellow metal backs and soft cushions for my butt. The bathroom has everything necessary but no actual tub or separate area for the shower. It is just another part of the bathroom in general.

After just a few hours of sleep, I woke due to the heat and noise of the city. I crawled out of bed, exhausted but even hungrier than tired. I wandered around the neighborhood full of small shops, private English schools and many places to eat until I gave up trying to figure out what anything is before ordering. I purchased a nice little portion of greens in a red chili sauce from a take-out place with a mother in daughter inside preparing the food and quickly went home to eat before meeting my new manager that the note stated I should not be late. The food was hot, spicy and delicious and forecasted what kind of foods I would be eating accurately.

She showed up on time, smiled half-heartedly and asked, “Are you ready to go?’ as if I had a choice.

I said quickly and professionally, “Yes, just let me get my stuff. How far do we have to go?”

“Just a few blocks, the school is very close”. Four and a half blocks to be exact, directly across from the police department and a small park with a basketball court. Upon arriving at the school, my manger directed me to a series of “Cubby-holes” and lifted the third one from the right on the top row and said, “You can take your shoes off and use the visitor slippers for today.” I put on a pair of soft, comfortable brown slippers with Korean writing on the outside. Like she did at my room, she hurried me along to meet my co-worker in the after-school homework program. Which I did, along with the principle, vice-principle and the school’s English teacher. I did not recall any of their names or anything else. Fortunately, I was saved by my favorite words in life spoken from my new manger, “Are you hungry?” Those magic words that solve everything in life for me.

The school cafeteria was full of bustling kids grabbing trays with little metal dividers built-in and large canisters stuffed with metal chopsticks and soupspoons. I watched and followed what everybody else was doing. When we got to the front of the line, my tray was filled with large quantities of Kim chi, white rice, a yellow fruit sliced thinly and a seafood soup and a compartment with a pile of spaghetti. My first real meal in Korea included spaghetti with a tomato sauce, pretty funny for an Italian guy from New Jersey, USA. Everything was delicious, even the Korean-Italian spaghetti.

I have eaten at our school cafeteria since then. Every meal consists of rice, Kim chi, a vegetable or fruit, fresh soup and something else. It is interesting to me that these elementary school children eat a more balanced and healthy meal then almost the entirety of American adults, forget about the kids. They make the food fresh every morning with the clanging if huge pts and pans with the women in the kitchen hurriedly preparing actual real food for these kids every day. There are no other choices except the one meal like there is in America, they all finish their meals and smile while eating, laughing and talking with their friends. There is no fighting, casing trouble or anything else. They are too busy enjoying their meal. Outside of the amazed stares at “the foreigner”, they eat, laugh and talk. What a great recipe for children learning and growing mentally, physically and spiritually.

Let’s do a quick nutrition analysis of Korean versus American school cafeteria food:
Frozen generic seafood sticks ------- fresh squid, crab and clam soup
Frozen fried chicken -------------------fresh chicken soup with a chicken leg in every bowl
White iceberg lettuce with a few slivers of carrot and a pale tomato------ Fresh Kim chi
Minute-made rice--------- actual rice
Canned and processed Campbell’s soups----------fresh sop complete with vegetables and chicken, pork or seafood made daily

It is hard for me to imagine why American schools feed children the food they do. Who came up with theory that kids will only eat food bad for them that is completely de-natured? What are we doing to our children?

Greater Value Than Money

As an American that grew up thirty miles from NYC, money has always had high importance in my life. Both my parents were children during the great Depression and never quite accepted times of affluence or at least economic comfort in their lives. I inherited their fears and sense of scarcity in general but more specifically, food and money. I was raised to be financial successful as a means of measuring my manhood since money is the currency that acquires women, the ultimate prize and stature of a man. The value of money and the women attached to its attainment were al I was groomed for as a young man. It took forty-seven years and a seven thousand mile airplane flight for me to see there is actually something of greater value than money. A good umbrella.

It rains often and heavy here in South Korea. There are times it is a complete downpour for hours and hours. There has only been one day since I have arrived that at least a quarter of the day wasn’t raining hard. I have never been an umbrella kind of guy. I was the tough it out like a man sort of rain dweller. That has changed. I have a good umbrella by my side whenever I set foot outside the apartment building I live in. I can hear the pitter patter of the raindrops on the roof as I write this. It is soothing and disruptive at the same time. The noise feels very comforting to me as if a gentle reminder that nature is nature. This kind of voice whispering to me, “You are not in charge or control and never will be.” is such a relief to me. The force of the downfalls can be unsettling in the exact same way, a reminder that nature is nature and will do as he pleases when she pleases to whatever extent she pleases. I tried to be cool my first couple of days walking about without and umbrella but after totally soaking my purple t-shirt to the point where it became heavy to wear, I accepted I am not bigger nor bolder than nature herself. I humbly spent 12,000 Won to purchase a nice strong but simple plaid green, black and red umbrella that I have only left behind at one restaurant and my classroom at school twice so far. As with many other adjustments, like putting on the air conditioner for a few hours so my clothes will dry before I go to work on Monday, I am have learned why and what value a good umbrella is here on the peninsula of South Korea.

A White Guy with Blue Eyes and Long Brown Hair

An amazing mural painted on the front of a camel colored building with soft stucco exterior. The warm blue sky, the gentle desert sand of the earth, animals peacefully grazing and roaming and then there ion the middle of downtown Cheonan is a white guy with blue eyes and long brown hair holding a staff. On top of the building in central Korea is a pointed structure also of camel color stucco where sits a large neon red Cross on top for all to see. What is this white guy with blue eyes and long brown hair doing next to the small take-out with white noodle soups of tomato, garlic and fresh seafood across from the restaurant where customers take off their shoes upon entering and sitting on the floor in slippers with their legs crossed while dining?

How did he get white here in the land of yellow and light brown? How did a man for the Middle East acquire pale skin and blue eyes to begin with? I am not a historian but were white people with blue eyes in existence yet?

Hearing the unmistakable flat, monotoned hymns in any language could only be that composed by white Protestant here in a city of almost a half million with probably les than fifty non-Asians while in meditation this morning made my heart sink. The ache if oppression and imperialism pierced through y veins and poisoned my blood.

Just like the day when I realized WHY Black Americans are so attached to Christianity and the Church. And why so many Muslim Americans have to take low-skill, low-income jobs that allow them the opportunity to honor their spiritual commitment of regular Prayer throughout the day. As the Jews that had to close their family business when malls and shopping centers made Saturday, the Seventh Day, a shopping day and they had to decide between God of the Bible that says, “You will keep the Seventh day Holy” or go out of business. Finally, the irony of Catholic missionaries brainwashing Africans into believing their idols of Crosses, Jesus and Mary would “save” them and the idols they worshipped happily and peacefully for thousands of years would send them to hell. This ache I know well, I fell it in my belly and I cringe.

I wonder how many people have taken the time to learn any of the languages of the Bible in Hebrew or any Aramaic language to receive the Teachings before white Kings, Queens, Czars and Emperors reframed them to meet their personal needs for power and domination? I wonder if the white guy with blue eyes and long brown hair laughs or cries when He hears us “quote the Gospel” according to King James and NIV? My money is on tears and many of them but possibly laughter while witnessing us use His Love, Healing and Teachings for everything that is not Love, Healing and Teaching amusing Himself “Funny white people, they just don’t get it.” He may question Himself, “Don’t they know back then the language didn’t have vowels in writing till modern day and that was to keep the Teachings fresh and not allow them stagnation.”

And in the beginning, God created the heavens and the Earth”, could have been written as follows, “In the beginning, and God is creating Heaven and Earth?’ just as easily. Why do they keep quoting only one possibility?” “If they are going to quote me all the time, you would think it would be important enough for them to learn my language to make sure they are actually quoting me!” This puts a whole new spin on the whole Seven Days, especially since Christians celebrate the Sabbath on the first day, not the seventh day, like the Bible says.

Which commandment in the Bible directs us to rape, pillage, loot, oppress, brainwash, own and take over people as a “mission”?

Oh my dear Friend, The White Guy with Blue Eyes and Long Brown Hair, what have we done to You?
Your Love and Your Teachings?
How did we move from, “the Meek shall inherit the Earth” to the arrogant shall rule it?

What have we done to You my Friend, what have we done?

July 20, 2008- Cheonan, Choongchung-namdo, South Korea

Martian or Rock Star?

He walks down the street and everybody stares. Not the stare they give the homeless guy or the woman dressed soliciting attention; this is a stare that stops people in their path. They look, hold their children’s hands who start to run towards him to get a closer look. Small children hide behind their mothers for safety but curiously peek around the back of her legs to explore while shielded by her body. Teenagers point and giggle in their formal uniforms of grey and white from school even as late as 9:30 at night. One little child walked up and rubbed his hairy arms just to see what an arm “like that” felt like disappointed that it felt like a regular arm. Yes, these are my first days on the streets in downtown Cheonan, South Korea.

When eating lunch in the cafeteria of the school I teach English at, students trip and drop their trays startled by the sight of a foreigner. Groups of youth all over the neighborhood see me walking by and all yell out “Hello!” and laugh hysterically. I wonder if this is what it was like for another Michael with the last name Jackson when at the peek pf his popularity; received a strange mix of celebrity status including: curiosity and circus clown. Personally, I think I resemble the latter the most closely but what do I know, I am the foreigner walking the streets without police protection or escort. It is possible after two days of not shaving, I may have more facial hair than this city of nearly a half million residents. It is possible that my short dark hair may have more natural wave to it than this city of nearly a half million residents. It is probable that I have more hair on my light brown arms than the entire city of nearly a half million residents. It is a fact that I came here to become somewhat anonymous and end up drawing more attention than any single person walking down the street casually and certainly more than I have at any time in my life.

All the kids want to play with and say “Hello” to Michael, the foreigner. In my short time here that has included many miles of walking and roaming the streets, I have seen one other non-Asian in public and have seen another white person through the window across from my efficiency apartment. Two non-Asians among several thousand native Koreans, Japanese and Chinese. Growing up outside NYC where every nation in the world that has access to an airplane has representatives wandering the streets, seeing so many folks of similar hair, eyes, and skin color with fashion that to my untrained eyes lacks much diversity is quite an eye-opener, literally. Due to my lack of distance vision, I have learned how to distinguish people in life through discerning hair, eye and skin color that has no value here. They ALL know who I am. I think I could walk around without clothes on and draw less attention, as long as naked I resemble the residents more closely.

It feels awkward to be stared at so frequently and unabashed. Anyone who knows me is aware I desire attention, but it is only attention on my terms that fills that need for me. I do not accept attention that I did not facilitate very gracefully. Seeing several thousand people a day and predominantly being stared at by most of them has stirred my sense of public comfort. I am aware of what I wear, how I eat, what I purchase at the grocery store, bowing and how I say,” Annyoeng-haseyo” the greeting equivalent of Good morning/afternoon/evening. Most of all, I am extremely mindful of not confirming their assumption that all Americans are rude, disrespectful and arrogant, I am still working on the third one. I eat very slowly and carefully in public with the metal chopsticks that Koreans use. I do not want to use the wrong utensils for the wrong foods. It is expected that one uses the spoon for soups, stews and rice, and chopsticks for everything else. I used my chopsticks to eat rice the first week here and was corrected yesterday with a look of disapproval. I am still learning what, how and when to bow and how low for each person. There are guidelines that are not always real clear. I love bowing. It feels so good to me. I feel such connection and heritage when doing so. I feel respected, acknowledged and honored every time. I believe i will have a hard time returning to a world without bowing when and if I choose to do so. I dress more conservative than I typically do and maybe even a little more like an adult than I have in recent years. I notice if I am buying only western style food at the grocery store and quickly grab something native that I have no idea what it is since I cannot read the labels but know I will like it anyway. Although I doubt I will replace cereal as my standard breakfast food before work in the morning. Seeing Post brand cereals in Korean with flavors I never saw before I also find amusing.

Side note: I can no longer imagine a world that does not include Kinchi on a daily basis after only ten days.

Being treated as a rock star where everybody wants you to walk through the door first because “he” is here among us I hope will wear off soon. Again, I came partially to shed some old patterns of attention-seeking and stroking of the ego. Ironic no? Fortunately, clerks in the both the local grocery stores I shop at treat me fairly rudely since I can’t read the writing on the scales to print out labels in advance of purchasing produce, it is good to be reminded that I am not larger than life or even equal to them.

It is funny how the Universe works; anonymity and humility were two of my primary motivations for living in a land where my methods of navigating through life would be ineffective and altered. Here I am the most noticed person everywhere I go- good, bad or indifferent- part Martian, part Rock Star.

Go Get You a Good One

Being Offended

In the last two weeks while sharing with others that I will be going to Korea for one year to teach English, I have gotten a surprising response form several people. More than those that I have not received this response from.

“Korea. Wow that should be cool. You can go and get yourself a nice Korean girl to bring back with you.”

At first, I thought this was funny, or at least an attempt to be funny. It is not funny any more. I do not know if the implication is that I need to go elsewhere to find women or that Korean women want American men so much it will be a breeze to acquire one, even for someone like me. I do not know which version offends me more.

Starting with the humor directed at me, I am not going to Korea to “find me a nice one to bring home that will cook and clean for me”. I don’t need anyone to cook or clean for me, I love doing both. I do not need a slave. I do not need to go elsewhere to find me a good woman, I don’t think. I am not with a woman due to being in the wrong country or culture. I am not with a woman for many reasons and I am offended that folks seem so convinced I need one to be happy or survive. We do not all walk the same journey in this life, till now; mine has not included a woman to be a life partner and companion. It is not that I do not want one; it is just not my highest priority or what has manifested.

The other theory of Korean women waiting for “American men like you to take them away from all that” is just downright gross to me. Why do these people think Korean women are waiting around to be “saved” by American men? We don’t seem to be doing such a great job with our own women, what makes anybody think we are such a premium that they are willing to leave their homes, family and culture just to be with an American man? This is what I hate about being American. It is embarrassing how arrogant and egocentric we are. To think we are the pinnacle of everybody else’s dreams and desires are so foolish and blind. It is why a guy like George W. Bush can become President. I wonder if we will ever accept that we are not “it” to the whole world. In fact, many folks are disgusted in us and what we do and how we life. At times, I am one of them. I do not need to save any Korean woman or any woman from her world. I do not posses any magical powers that any other man does not posses, especially not just being born in the USA as the sole characteristic that makes me a good catch.

I am offended, deeply. One of the reasons I wanted to spend a year out of the country in a culture drastically different that the one I have lived my whole life is to se the world through a different set of lens. A lens that does not see me or us as the center. A world where we trumps me. A world where family and community take precedent over personal ambition and goals. A world where it is not assumed that I will always know what is best for everyone else because it worked for me, or at least it is what I have done, successful or not.

Sitting on a soft purple seat in Narita Airport I Tokyo waiting for my flight to Seoul surrounded by predominantly Asian folks, I am ready to leap, to learn and to grow. I don’t think any one of them is sitting here thinking, “I hope that American man will save me from my poor Asian life”. There is apart of me that does not want to meet any women in my year in Korea just to give all these folks the finger for their arrogance and self-righteousness. Or, maybe one of them will “save me from all that” and I will stay here. I am here to learn and experience news things. My hope is that humility and respect are two of them.
July 14, 2008: Tokyo, Japan