I know I said I would write about school in this post but I’ve decided to put that off until Danny finishes his first week of teaching. Instead, there’s something far more pressing to talk about: young Koreans want to be gangsters. Or, at least, they want to wear watered-down versions of white peoples’ interpretations of 1990s-era rapper fashion…I think. Blinged-out hats, graphic tees with random combinations of English words like ‘yo’, ‘chill’, ‘bro’, and randomly, ‘happy beach time’, and LOTS of tattoos. American hip-hop and rap music is HUGE here and it comes up in the oddest places, i.e.: 8am, sitting at a café, Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” pairs beautifully with my morning grog and a latte. When it’s followed by Biggie’s “Fuckin You Tonight” I glance up at the very buttoned-up baristas and doubt that either of them really registers the line, “ Remember when I used to play between yo legs, you begged for me to stop because you know where it would head, straight to yo mother’s bed.” That brings up another observation: there is a very strange undercurrent of sexual humor that I don’t totally understand yet. I guess it comes as a surprise because I think most foreigners imagine Korea to have a very traditional and conservative surface appearance. Watching several K-pop music videos from my stool at a bar called ‘Lady Bug’ last night I noticed that all included groups of scantily clad, sexy dancing ladies and an excessive amount of ass-close ups. Looking around however, all of the young Korean women in the bar were very well dressed, even over-dressed for the location by American standards. I can certainly see some parallels to the way American women are portrayed in our media and the strange contrast to the way they actually behave in real life (a bit prudish according to some European friends). Lastly, a related story. According to Danny, who has an impressive amount of Asian-cultural knowledge, mainly gleaned from Anime, pervy old men are a hilarious joke in TV and real life. Yesterday, as we were riding the very-full metro back from a quick errand to Seoul, an elderly Korean man was so inspired by my “exotic” appearance he insisted on expressing his admiration through art. Image 1, for your viewing pleasure: Kinda cool right? He handed it to me and said it was a gift. Touched, we thanked him, repeatedly and proudly since ‘Kamsahamnida’ is one of the few Korean words we know well. Then he hands us another picture, this one of a lady. Nice. We thank him again. Then he hands us another, and another until finally… ...his pièce de résistance: At that point we stopped making eye contact and moved down the train. I’m in the process of finding out what all the writing with each image means, anyone who can decipher it and translate please feel free to confirm my hunch that it’s a dirty story.
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Day three in Ansan and it feels like we’ve been here a week already, probably on account of the jet lag and incredibly long days of trying to settle in. My brain is still a little foggy so instead of the well-crafted, delightfully clever post I would prefer to write, I’ll just give you some highlights, a few low lights and general reactions to our first few days in South Korea. Big people, little world. Our apartment is tiny. We are not. We kind of feel like two giants in a dollhouse right now. Having done some research prior to arriving in Ansan the space didn’t exactly come as a surprise, but walking through the door, dragging 200 pounds worth of luggage between us and blinking back the travel exhaustion, our dorm-room sized space hit us with a culture-shock punch to the gut. To save money and in order to travel to Korea at the same time, Danny and I have to live in an apartment that’s really only suited for one bite-sized person until September when we will receive a second room next door. Not an unmanageable situation but certainly a little cramped. With a good night’s sleep we resolved to make it work and it’s turning out to be very cozy and charming. I am especially fond of the cherry blossom wallpaper and frosted-glass sliding doors that look like they are hiding a geisha. Also, Koreans stare at us a lot. I can imagine them arriving at work and telling everyone, “Oh my gosh! Did you see the interracial American couple at the coffee shop this morning!? They are so tall!” Back in Fairfax there is a guy who walks around George Mason’s campus playing a tuba all day, everyone spots him and needs to talk about it, we’re on his level right now. (Almost) defeated by the kitchen. My American friends let me just say this: We are so lucky to have disturbingly plump, pre-packaged chicken breasts. Ok, maybe lucky isn’t the right word, sorry gluten-allergy generation. But after our first attempt to cook in our new home I am really appreciating the convenience of American grocery stores. Stopping by the little market in our neighborhood, Danny worked up the courage to ask the grocer in broken Korean for some chicken. It went something like this: Sillay hazeman (Excuse me)…tchicken?...uhh yes, tchicken (chicken?...uhh yes, chicken?). Turns out the friendly grocer knew a bit of English and was very excited to learn that we were from Washington DC. Smiling energetically, he took an imposing meat cleaver to half a semi-bloody chicken, tossed several small pieces in a bag and sent us on our way to do battle with the kitchen. Culinary experts we are not and de-boning a chicken, while not necessarily difficult, is an interesting process, especially when your kitchen tools are limited. Managing to get our rice and the meat prepared we discovered that our “stove” (i.e. two counter-top gas burners) probably hasn’t been used in a very long time. We lost a good layer of rice along the way (RIP my grainy friends) but eventually we produced a few tasty pieces of chicken and a bowl of semi-crunchy rice. Danny was feeling a little blue about the whole attempt and that we won’t be hosting any dinner parties any time soon. Happily, he was cheered the next morning when we successfully created an egg scramble with rosemary parmesan French fries which we dubbed “Scrambled Rosemary”…sounds like a batty next-door neighbor, right? Paris? New York? Or Ansan? Café and restaurant culture here is amazing! Kind of makes sense why our poor stove and kitchen has been neglected for so long, with an abundance of places to eat and hang out, why cook at home? There are tons of 24-hour coffee places with very open storefronts where you can sit with a latte, people watch with a judgmental, Parisian-esque gaze and enjoy the atmosphere…and free WiFi of course. What we’ve really enjoyed as well is seeing the city come to life at night. During the day the huge neon billboards and signs that cover the industrial looking buildings can appear a little gaudy but when they’re all lit up the main streets turn into magical little Times Squares. To come: Our confusion over the difference between the Korean words for ‘water’ and ‘radish’ as well as Danny’s first few days of training at our school: SLP-Ansan! |
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