one year: 2.14.2009

One Year: 2.14.09

It was a snowy day in the mountains of southwest North Carolina. I had worked there as caretaker for only two months. I lasted longer than I thought. I had not been so abused and disrespected in my life as during those two months. I had finally had enough. I told the owner of the Glen Choga Lodge I was leaving. I packed up my van in the snow. He said, “Why don’t you stay the night since it is snowing so badly, and leave in the morning.”

I was tired and miserable but my gut said, in the infamous words of Eddie Murphy, “Tiptoe the fuck out!” But I felt bad for the old man; he was sick and I knew I was leaving him in a bad way. To show respect to the old jerk I decided to stay the night, “OK, I’ll leave in the morning.” I stayed the night, slept a little late in the morning and when I made it to the kitchen to heat up a cup of tea on the wood-burning stove, I saw the envelope with my name on it “Michael”. I opened it and read the check he made out to me, five hundred bucks short! I waited till he came out and before I could day a word, “I reckon you should make yourself scarce and get on out of here. You are not welcome here any more.”

“But what about my pay? This is off by $500!”

“I’ll get it to you at the end of the month, now get on out of here!”

“I want my money! I will not leave without my money!”

He made a call to the closest police department, Andrews Township about twenty-five minutes away. I heard him say to the officer on the phone, “Persona non grata”. My Spanish is weak but I knew what that meant. They arrived about thirty minutes later and we both told our sides of the story. I was escorted off the property minus $500 by the two officers. It was a Tuesday late afternoon when my van winded around the mountains toward Asheville. Everybody I met since the day I arrived in North Carolina told me, “You should go to Asheville, you will love it there. Lots of people just like you.” I had no plan, so Asheville would work for the next few days until I start heading north towards New Jersey, my default setting.

I spent a week in Asheville and felt insulted when I left that everybody thought I was just like them; they were a bunch of pseudo-hippies playing spiritual New Age gurus. I ran for cover and headed towards Boone, another place I was supposed to love. I did. When I left Boone, a few days later, I directed the van east towards the ocean thinking I would head north from there. Little did I know that the next five months were going to spent living and traveling out of my van, up and down the east coast of the USA. I learned a lot and experienced all kinds of stuff; some of which I would prefer to leave behind and did. Along the way, I met and became friends with some incredible people. Some of them have become Reiki students and I had the opportunity to share Reiki with many folks. I guess Virginia and North Carolina are not Reiki hot spots.

In those five months, I was fortunate to receive teachings from several great teachers. Two of them being Grandmaster T.K. Shih in Danbury, Connecticut and Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche in Charlottesville, Virginia. I slept in more than twenty-five different homes during this period, mostly arranged through The Couchsurfing Project. I happened to spend a great deal of time around university campuses and the students. The adolescent slut in me seemed to attract many sweet young things into my life to confuse and bewilder me; it worked. I managed to somehow not have sex with any of them. There is one that I regret that decision but that is another story that I won’t tell.

I was applying for jobs at Princeton and other universities along the east coast with varied responses and interest. I am not sure how, but I ended up on some kind of recruiters list for international work since I applied for a project in Liberia. I didn’t get the project in Liberia but was offered a position teaching English in South Korea. I said yes without much thought, maybe an hour or so. They called me a couple of days later, “Michael, if we paid you an extra 600,000 won per month, paid for your plane fare here and sent you to Japan to complete your work visa, would you come in two weeks instead of two months from now?” I thought about this for nearly two minutes, “Sure, I think I can do that.” Twelve days later with all my stuff stored and legal stuff rushed through, I was on a flight to Seoul-Incheon International Airport. I made it to my new room after 1:00am and unpacked most of my stuff, shaved and showered with cold water since I could not figure out how to turn on the hot water and went to bed after 3:300am to rest before starting work in the morning. That was July 16th, more than six months ago.

I get to bow many times every day now. I get to spend at least one chunk of time weekly at the local Jimjilbang, my other favorite thing about Korea next to bowing. I got involved in NaNoWriMo and wrote the bulk of a novel in one-month totaling over 55,000 words in November, and another 20,000 in December. And no, I had never written a novel or fiction before. I still have trouble identifying myself as a writer but besides teaching, sleeping, Reiki and meditation; I invest more of my time and creative energy into writing than anything else. I guess that makes me a writer? Or lacking in diverse activities.

I remember crying on my cell phone driving the mountains of western North Carolina talking to a friend with both joy and sadness about my episode at the lodge earlier that day. It was Valentines Day and I was a mess. In spite of myself, things have worked out better than I possibly could have dreamt up in a fantasy novel about a mysterious man traveler who ends up teaching English to Korean elementary kids while facilitating Reiki trainings on Skype with folks from three continents. I am glad that the powers that control the Universe have a more fruitful plan for my life than I do. If left to me, I am fairly certain I would still be sleeping in the homes of American college girls half-naked for the rest of my life, or till arrested for some awful act of disrespect on the soul and body of one of my hosts.

One year, twelve months and a pile of days, memories and miles. And who was it that said there is no God?

My Hollywood Nightmare

It was nearly eighty-five degrees Fahrenheit in the Namba District of Osaka, Japan. My black backpack was stuffed with my camera, MacBook, iPod, writing book and the book I am studying Korean lazily. It weighed a lot since I had been walking around to stall time before picking up my passport and accepted E-2 work visa from the Republic of Korea as an English teacher. I had waited for this day since the day I departed the Northwest Airlines airbus six weeks ago to become a legal resident for one year as a teacher.

Last night I had a nightmare that I would be walking down the street and for no reason, a band of Japanese police officers would grab me from all angles, question me in Japanese which I do not speak, detain and keep me like all those awful movies showed at 3:00a.m. on cable of American’s lives ripped to shreds in a foreign land for no reason except country of birth. The nightmare included being beaten, raped and starved to the point of malnutrition. Yes the nightmare pierced through my belly and kept me awake for at least half the night. No visa, no flight back to Korea at 5:00p.m. and no teaching English to incredibly loving and wonderful elementary school students at Cheonanyoungam Elementary School. Life over. Till I awoke in the morning and I was sleeping on a bed in a youth hostel in Kyoto with the sun shining through the plastic window. I was not in jail but safe and apprehensively preparing for my day of travel and finally attaining my E-2 working visa. I ate breakfast at the Zen Café; the German potato salad was not very German or really potato salad, just boiled potatoes. Everything else was a little better- mediocre. The train and subway rides back to Osaka were boring and uneventful. I then walked around Namba searching for a place to eat lunch after acquiring my visa from the Korean Embassy to make sure I had a decent meal before the train ride to Kansia Airport departing to Incheon, South Korea. The plan was perfect including one more meal of fresh Japanese Sushi, a perfect plan.

Perfect till a warm “Hello” to the two Japanese police officers stations outside the Korean Embassy where I will enter at 1:30 to pick up my E- visa. Perfect till the first young officer approached me at the corner about forty feet away out of breath with his right hand placed firmly on his black pistol and his mouth and nose covered with a white pollution mask. He asked me something in Japanese, I answered by asking him, “Do you speak any English?” Before he could answer, another officer approached with urgency and got directly in front of me and looked me in the eyes and asked in broken English, “Passport?”

That is when the nightmare began. See, my visa was sitting comfortably on the desk in the air-conditioned office of the visa officer on the second floor of the Korean Embassy forty feet away. He just stared, not having any idea what I just said to him. The stare is what produced my panic, any response would have signaled at least a hint of understanding. Nothing, Nada, Zilch. Just a blank stare that began to increase intensity when he again asked, “Passport?” This time it was less of a question and more of a directive. I took a deep breath and was extremely conscious of speaking slow, even and soft- my freedom was now in serious question. I reached to take my pack off my back and a third officer approached and stopped me with fear and intensity in his eyes that were open wide. I stopped without flinching or reacting suddenly. He asked again for my passport and I again tried to explain that it was at the Korean Embassy knowing what little they understood was being communicated by an American that keeps bringing up the Korean Embassy; a two for one of Japans two greatest targets of prejudice and hate.

They then demanded to see some identification. I reached slowly for my wallet and showed them my Wisconsin drivers license, which only added to their concern. I was giving them an American drivers license when I said I live in South Korea. “Open your bag!”

I slowly released my backpack off my shoulders onto the cement sidewalk full of pedestrians walking by. I was too scared to see if they were watching or not but I could feel their stares rolling off my back. I slid the zipper of the largest compartment open and took out my MacBook covered in a pillowcase that I purchased from an old Tibetan couple at a twelve-day Teaching with the Dalai Llama in August of 1999. Then my little purple, orange, black and red knit bag that I found on the sidewalk in Madison, WI a few years ago with my iPod, cords and my black cannon S5 IS camera that shot over 500 pictures in the previous three days in Japan. My yellow, brown and ochre writing pad that is almost full of pages written this summer. The book I am learning how to read and speak Korean. And finally, my soft, clear plastic Nalgene bottle that I have drank from every day since the spring of 1995 full of tap water from the youth hostel I stayed in the night before in Kyoto. Still no expression.

The medium pocket with my small pad I carry for notes and drawings for language barrier emergencies was of no help with Japanese police. Then I saw the e-ticket for my flights to and from Incheon-Seoul airport and Kansai, “Maybe this will help”. I showed it to them excitedly until they pointed out to each other that I came from Seoul. “You came from Korea? I thought you were an American! Where is your passport!”

The officer with the white mask covering his nose and mouth from pollution spoke to one of the other officers and then looked at me and said, “We take you to police station now!” I cold feel my freedom evaporating- no E-2 visa, no flight back to Incheon-Seoul and no life in Korea or elsewhere. I motioned with my fingers for them to walk with me to the Korean Embassy to get my passport. “We take you to police station now!”

I took a deep breathe, I remembered what has worked in most life situations since I was first trained and attuned in January of 1996 in my cherry wood paneled loft out in the country. Reiki! I took another deep breath and invited Reiki into the space for a few seconds, maybe ten. Then the strangest thing happened. They all just walked away. No internal conversation, no “I am sorry for bothering you”, no “OK, you can go now”. They just independently walked away in three different directions as if nothing happened.

I was standing there on the street corner with my black pack on the ground opened by myself. I picked up my pack, slipped it on my back and walked the forty feet to the Korean Embassy. I walked up the stairs to the right passed one of the officers who just violated me and my space to the automatic glass sliding doors to enter the Korean Embassy. Up the stairs to the visa issuing officer. It was now 1:28, I was two minutes early. I sat on one of the available seats and held back my tears on the outside but on the inside, I was drenched. I survived my Hollywood nightmare in Namba, Japan.

My number was called, “13” and I was issued my E-2 visa. I shared my experiences with the officer who appeared genuinely bothered. I returned down the steps out the door past the two officers guarding the Embassy and to the sushi bar around the corner I discovered earlier for my last opportunity for fresh sushi in Japan. It was an incredible meal! I paid my bill and headed towards Namba station to take the train to Kansai International Airport.

I never thought in my life that a Korean Embassy in Japan would be such a welcome sight to an American from North Jersey just outside of NYC. For me, it was the end of the nightmare and the beginning of my trip home safely to Cheonan.

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.

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!