Sometimes things just make sense. Experimental design comes easily. What the data is trying to tell becomes obvious. A talk I heard in graduate school pops into my head during a lecture, and suddenly I get it. I understand what has been done and come up with better questions. Whenever this happens, it is almost a certain sign that I am wrong.
One might think that is very frustrating, but that is only somewhat true. Invariably, I convince myself that this time I am right. The Charlie Brown in me is finally going to kick that damn ball. I mean, it makes perfect sense. How could I be wrong? Oh, that's how.
I think this is what makes me a good scientist. This understanding that I am probably wrong leads me to focus on figuring out why. Hopefully, I will ask better questions. Eventually I will get it. I.... had better reread paragraph one.
Anyway, one positive result of this recognition is that I listen. I may totally disagree. It might be complete nonsense to me, but I will listen. I want to understand, and I know I may well be wrong. I can still be dismissive. For instance, the vice-director of my department offered the following advice for living in Korea on my own.
"When I first moved to Korea, my wife and kids were still in the States. If it wasn't for my cleaning lady, I would not have survived. You should hire a cleaning lady. They don't cost much. I will ask the secretary to look into hiring a cleaning lady for you."
"Oh, that's okay. There is just me and there is not much to clean, but thanks, I will think about it," is what I said. How disconnected is this guy? is what I was thinking. A cleaning lady? He was serious?
While I was somewhat dismayed by the suggestion, I was also touched by it. I am the only foreign Primary Investigator in the department who is here the full year and is single. The others are either Korean, here only four months of the year, or have a significant other. The result is that my department worries about me and makes an effort to include me in social events. It's nice for the most part but can be sort of depressing at times as well.
I have been hearing rumblings on Facebook about how it is just one big party here in Seoul. To an extent, that is true. This is an amazing city, and I do my best to enjoy it as much as possible. These are the things I post. But the truth is that depression lurks around every corner. Two weeks ago my daughter had an open house at her high school. This is her freshman year. I missed it. Last week was the first time I missed my daughter's birthday. Oh, the waters that lead to a vortex of self pity begin to swirl. Anything that reminds me of 2010 or the disaster that was my 45th birthday... Anyway, I think you can see why I focus on the more positive events to write about.
The cleaning lady advice bothered me. Did I look depressed and in need of help? There is a bar in Itaewon that is my sanctuary. I found myself there that evening. No one else was there, so I listened to a phone conversation the bartender was having trying to convince the person on the other end that her husband was not having an affair.
"That was my friend from America. She thinks her husband is cheating. She is living in the US while he is here in Korea. She asks me because I clean their house."
"Oh, I know how hard long distance relationships can.... wait, did you say you clean houses?"
That was how I hired my cleaning lady which may be the smartest thing I have done in Korea. There are times when I do get depressed, but every Wednesday, this kind lady comes to my apartment and cleans. Every Wednesday night I can't help but feel good when I come home and the apartment is clean (especially the bathrooms). It was strange advice, but I am very glad I followed it.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Chuseok - A Korean Thanksgiving
When I returned from the States, I received the following email:
A talent show? Really? Initially, I thought participation was required, and a thousand disasters passed through my mind. What would I do? Sing? Dance? Clog? Asians tend to take these types of events very seriously. Thankfully, when I broached the subject with the ladies in the business office (I was looking for back up singers) I discovered a way out. They had no idea what I was talking about. They were never invited. It was to be an international event; Koreans weren't allowed. Usually, if there are no Koreans, it's boring. Besides, it's wrong not to invite the Koreans, so as a sign of unity I was going to boycott the event. "Uhm, Brad, it says there will be free food... and Cass." Fortunately, the talent show was voluntary.
Chuseok is the Korean version of Thanksgiving. The definition from wikipedia:
Chuseok (Korean: 추석), originally known as Hangawi (한가위, from archaic Korean for "the ides of August"), is a major harvest festival and a three-day holiday in Korea celebrated on the 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar. Like many other harvest festivals, it is held around the Autumn Equinox. As a celebration of the good harvest, Koreans visit their ancestral hometowns and share a feast of Korean traditional food such as songpyeon and rice wines such as sindoju and dongdongju.
Our institute is pretty good at putting on events. The Chuseok Celebration had many activities before the food was served. There was a painter doing artful calligraphy. There were games you could play to win prizes as well as a raffle. The first place prize was a bicycle. The five other prizes were.... soap. There was also a best dressed competition. I thought the kids in the picture should have won, but no. The competition was a little strange. You would get your picture taken wearing the traditional Korean outfit provided and people would vote for who was best dressed. But everyone was wearing the same thing! How could it not be a tie?
There was a martial arts demonstration as well. These guys were serious.
Then it was time for food. But first we had to have our picture taken and a toast by the Ambassador from ... Nepal. Finally we lined up for food. There were lines at both ends of the tables since there were plates at both ends of the tables. Unfortunately, the chicken was at one end and the salmon at the other resulting in a rather unpleasant convergence near the center.
"Excuse me! The line is back there."
"Uhm, there is also a line here," I said pointing behind me.
"I don't think you understand..."
I didn't listen to the rest. Her name tag said she was from Nepal. When did that invasion happen? Oh well, one of the benefits of moving to Seoul was to be nearer to Nepal. Mission accomplished. Too bad that benefit didn't really pan out as I had hoped.
The talent show was good... and serious. There were Indonesian singers, Pakistani dancers, and a Chinese flutist. It was too dark for video so you will have to trust me. It was very entertaining.
At the end of the evening we were given a parting gift. "Male or female?"
"Uh, male."
Socks? Socks, and damn nice ones I must say. I was extremely thankful. It was a very good Chuseok.
Dear scientists and students,
...
I believe you recieved the inviitation letter to the Chuseok Celebration for Int'l community.
For the event, we will be having a Talent show which
needs your participation. If this notice is too late for you to prepare
I apologize you for that, though, it will be a great opportunity for
you or your collegues, classmates and friends to show off your talent in
front of other international scientists and students.
Your participation will be greatly appreciated and we are preparing prize as well.
Please do think about this and help us to well-organize upcoming Chuseok Celebration.
If you would like to participate in Talent show, please fill out the form below and send it back to me.
Thank you very much.
A talent show? Really? Initially, I thought participation was required, and a thousand disasters passed through my mind. What would I do? Sing? Dance? Clog? Asians tend to take these types of events very seriously. Thankfully, when I broached the subject with the ladies in the business office (I was looking for back up singers) I discovered a way out. They had no idea what I was talking about. They were never invited. It was to be an international event; Koreans weren't allowed. Usually, if there are no Koreans, it's boring. Besides, it's wrong not to invite the Koreans, so as a sign of unity I was going to boycott the event. "Uhm, Brad, it says there will be free food... and Cass." Fortunately, the talent show was voluntary.
Chuseok is the Korean version of Thanksgiving. The definition from wikipedia:
Chuseok (Korean: 추석), originally known as Hangawi (한가위, from archaic Korean for "the ides of August"), is a major harvest festival and a three-day holiday in Korea celebrated on the 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar. Like many other harvest festivals, it is held around the Autumn Equinox. As a celebration of the good harvest, Koreans visit their ancestral hometowns and share a feast of Korean traditional food such as songpyeon and rice wines such as sindoju and dongdongju.
Our institute is pretty good at putting on events. The Chuseok Celebration had many activities before the food was served. There was a painter doing artful calligraphy. There were games you could play to win prizes as well as a raffle. The first place prize was a bicycle. The five other prizes were.... soap. There was also a best dressed competition. I thought the kids in the picture should have won, but no. The competition was a little strange. You would get your picture taken wearing the traditional Korean outfit provided and people would vote for who was best dressed. But everyone was wearing the same thing! How could it not be a tie?
 |
| My nominees for best dressed |
Then it was time for food. But first we had to have our picture taken and a toast by the Ambassador from ... Nepal. Finally we lined up for food. There were lines at both ends of the tables since there were plates at both ends of the tables. Unfortunately, the chicken was at one end and the salmon at the other resulting in a rather unpleasant convergence near the center.
"Excuse me! The line is back there."
"Uhm, there is also a line here," I said pointing behind me.
"I don't think you understand..."
I didn't listen to the rest. Her name tag said she was from Nepal. When did that invasion happen? Oh well, one of the benefits of moving to Seoul was to be nearer to Nepal. Mission accomplished. Too bad that benefit didn't really pan out as I had hoped.
The talent show was good... and serious. There were Indonesian singers, Pakistani dancers, and a Chinese flutist. It was too dark for video so you will have to trust me. It was very entertaining.
At the end of the evening we were given a parting gift. "Male or female?"
"Uh, male."
 |
| Emotional footwear! |
 |
| Nicely packaged |
 |
| Nice |
 | |
| Very nice |
Socks? Socks, and damn nice ones I must say. I was extremely thankful. It was a very good Chuseok.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
I'm a Ninja
When I was in college a housemate put up a dart board. With the exception of the grinding with Korean guys ( It Seemed Like a Good Plan ), that action has generally led to positive experiences and some
pretty good friendships. For example, most of my housemates took up
darts. We would play a dart game called cricket late into the night.
Of course when you are in college many things become a drinking game. Cricket was no different. On the dart board there is a small outer circle which is where the doubles reside. If your dart lands in that circle it counts as two of that number. There is also a smaller, inner circle which is where the triples reside. Those count as three of that number. Hitting trips made the other person drink. For some reason saying the word 'drink' is extremely satisfying in drinking games. It feels so good that we ended up only throwing at triples.
"Nice triple."
"Thank you. Drink."
Usually, the dialogue was not that congenial. Replace 'nice' with a string of explicatives and 'thank' with a simple, four-lettered word... well, you get the idea. Our focus on triples also led to the discovery of the beer curve. The beer curve resembles a small incline that leads to a rather sudden and steep drop off. After having to drink a few times, you would actually get better at hitting triples. But eventually there was a marked decrease in hitting anything let alone triples.
Several years later I am back throwing darts. I am still pretty awful, but it is a very social game. Even some dance clubs have dart boards (Is that a pickle ... No, they're darts.). A few weeks ago the owner of my favorite bar asked me if I would like to join their dart team. What better way to spend Monday nights? (Monday night football is Tuesday morning here)
Our team name is the Ninja's (Of course it is. Didn't someone just release a movie about ninjas?). We were undefeated until I returned from the States for my primiere in the Itaewon dart league. Our opponent was the Blue Frog bar, a renowned dart bar on hooker hill. Tucked away among several bordellos down in the basement resides the Blue Frog. It amazes me that such a bar could stay open. There is a pool table, three dart boards, and a refrigerator full of beer. Let's play.
My opponent opens with four 20's. I miss everything, and, suddenly, I am way back. But just as things start to look bleak, I hit a double 16, a double 15, and a 20. I'm back from the dead. All I need is a double bull. I'm going to win. I'm a winner, baby.... okay maybe not. I never came close to the bullseye let alone the double bull. The next two games weren't even close, so I started 0-3.
Next up was the doubles. The league is sort of like the Davis cup in tennis. My partner and I go 0-3. Not pretty but great fun. There are three women on our team of six, and they are a blast. During our doubles match one of the women from our team was keeping score up front near the dart board. As we fell further behind, my female teammate stands behind our opponent who is throwing and starts to mime to the scorekeeper to flash him. "You have to distract him!" What can I say? We are Ninja's. As a side note, I started to throw really well after that.
The final game is a six-on-six countdown from 1001 to zero where you have to hit a double to exactly get zero. Having been crushed the entire night, we finally take a huge lead, and yours truly hits a double one for the win to go 1-6 on the night. Finish strong, I always say, so we went back to our 'home' bar and closed it down. Then to Seoul pub where it was finally decided we should go to a noraebang (karaoke place). That was great fun but requires a post all its own.
It's a sign of character to be able to rebound from a tough loss. As you can see from the picture, I think we put the loss behind us rather quickly. I can't be happier with our team. What can I say? We're Ninja's
Of course when you are in college many things become a drinking game. Cricket was no different. On the dart board there is a small outer circle which is where the doubles reside. If your dart lands in that circle it counts as two of that number. There is also a smaller, inner circle which is where the triples reside. Those count as three of that number. Hitting trips made the other person drink. For some reason saying the word 'drink' is extremely satisfying in drinking games. It feels so good that we ended up only throwing at triples.
"Nice triple."
"Thank you. Drink."
Usually, the dialogue was not that congenial. Replace 'nice' with a string of explicatives and 'thank' with a simple, four-lettered word... well, you get the idea. Our focus on triples also led to the discovery of the beer curve. The beer curve resembles a small incline that leads to a rather sudden and steep drop off. After having to drink a few times, you would actually get better at hitting triples. But eventually there was a marked decrease in hitting anything let alone triples.
Several years later I am back throwing darts. I am still pretty awful, but it is a very social game. Even some dance clubs have dart boards (Is that a pickle ... No, they're darts.). A few weeks ago the owner of my favorite bar asked me if I would like to join their dart team. What better way to spend Monday nights? (Monday night football is Tuesday morning here)
Our team name is the Ninja's (Of course it is. Didn't someone just release a movie about ninjas?). We were undefeated until I returned from the States for my primiere in the Itaewon dart league. Our opponent was the Blue Frog bar, a renowned dart bar on hooker hill. Tucked away among several bordellos down in the basement resides the Blue Frog. It amazes me that such a bar could stay open. There is a pool table, three dart boards, and a refrigerator full of beer. Let's play.
My opponent opens with four 20's. I miss everything, and, suddenly, I am way back. But just as things start to look bleak, I hit a double 16, a double 15, and a 20. I'm back from the dead. All I need is a double bull. I'm going to win. I'm a winner, baby.... okay maybe not. I never came close to the bullseye let alone the double bull. The next two games weren't even close, so I started 0-3.
Next up was the doubles. The league is sort of like the Davis cup in tennis. My partner and I go 0-3. Not pretty but great fun. There are three women on our team of six, and they are a blast. During our doubles match one of the women from our team was keeping score up front near the dart board. As we fell further behind, my female teammate stands behind our opponent who is throwing and starts to mime to the scorekeeper to flash him. "You have to distract him!" What can I say? We are Ninja's. As a side note, I started to throw really well after that.
The final game is a six-on-six countdown from 1001 to zero where you have to hit a double to exactly get zero. Having been crushed the entire night, we finally take a huge lead, and yours truly hits a double one for the win to go 1-6 on the night. Finish strong, I always say, so we went back to our 'home' bar and closed it down. Then to Seoul pub where it was finally decided we should go to a noraebang (karaoke place). That was great fun but requires a post all its own.
 |
| The Bless U Ninja's and friends. |
It's a sign of character to be able to rebound from a tough loss. As you can see from the picture, I think we put the loss behind us rather quickly. I can't be happier with our team. What can I say? We're Ninja's
Friday, September 2, 2011
"Dude, that was terrible."
Once upon a time in a land far away, there was a golden couch.
"Choose," she said.
I chose poorly.
Seoul can be as crazy as you want it to be. Last night is a good example. I had drinks with a comic from Saudi Arabia and a group of diamond dealers from South Africa. Okay, they claimed to be civil engineers, but that clearly was a cover. I watched a bartender chug Guinness faster than I can chug water. A few South Africans tried to race him. It wasn't even close. One of the South Africans was wearing an afro wig. I do not know why. I doubt he knew either.
The bartender of this pub is also the owner. This was the pub I had visited on my birthday in May and nearly died from the flaming shots. Last night there were more flaming shots and even some magic tricks. Usually, the owner will play drinking games with the customers at the bar. The games range from a simple dice game to Jenga. Watching drunks play Jenga can be quite entertaining. Last night there were no games but some really good card tricks.
"Pick a card." A South African picks the king of hearts. "Is this your card?" the owner asked showing the seven of clubs. When the South African replied, "no," the owner repeated the process revealing three other cards that were not the king of hearts. He then discarded the rest of the deck and placed the four cards he had revealed face down on the bar. The bottom card was the king of hearts. It was pretty impressive.
The next trick was simple but really amazed me. Taking the deck behind his back he cuts and reveals a card to us without him seeing it. "Seven of clubs." It was the seven of clubs. The deck again goes behind his back. He cuts and reveals another card. "Two of hearts." It was the two of hearts. Lather, rinse, repeat. "Five of spades. Ten of diamonds. Jack of diamonds. Three of spades." I don't remember the rest, and I stopped counting after seven. He may have done that ten times. Impressive.
At another bar last night, I met a comic from Saudi Arabia which induced a flashback from my 43rd birthday. My 43rd birthday was the best ever. For a while I thought my 44th was even better, but that was just an illusion. A beautiful illusion, but an illusion all the same.
I was dreading my 43rd birthday. It was going to be my first birthday after my divorce, and I was not looking forward to spending it alone. Fortunately, a friend who worked across the hall from me organized an outing that took on a life of its own (thank you, Jessica). A group of us went to dinner, played bar trivia, visited my favorite bartender in New Haven, and continued partying back at her apartment (uhm, sounds like Seoul).
After finishing third in the trivia contest we went to my favorite bar. We were sitting around a table having a great time when a middle eastern guy approaches us. "Excuse me. I'm a comedian. Would you guys mind if I try out some of my material on you?"
"Sure. Go for it."
"Well, my uncle just flew in from Pakistan. When I picked him up at the airport, he asked if we could go to a bar with laptops. I told him, 'Uncle, that is lap dance. Not laptop.'"
Silence. And then one of my friends says, "Dude, that was terrible." I do not think I will ever forget that moment. I felt bad for the guy, but I couldn't help but laugh. He was terrible. I give him credit, though. It took courage to tell jokes to strangers. It takes real courage when those jokes are awful.
I am happy to say that the Saudi Arabian guy was funny. I won't steal his jokes, but they were pretty good. Comedy night is the first Thursday of every month. Good to know because I'm beginning to believe that Seoul is as crazy as you need it to be.
"Choose," she said.
I chose poorly.
Seoul can be as crazy as you want it to be. Last night is a good example. I had drinks with a comic from Saudi Arabia and a group of diamond dealers from South Africa. Okay, they claimed to be civil engineers, but that clearly was a cover. I watched a bartender chug Guinness faster than I can chug water. A few South Africans tried to race him. It wasn't even close. One of the South Africans was wearing an afro wig. I do not know why. I doubt he knew either.
The bartender of this pub is also the owner. This was the pub I had visited on my birthday in May and nearly died from the flaming shots. Last night there were more flaming shots and even some magic tricks. Usually, the owner will play drinking games with the customers at the bar. The games range from a simple dice game to Jenga. Watching drunks play Jenga can be quite entertaining. Last night there were no games but some really good card tricks.
"Pick a card." A South African picks the king of hearts. "Is this your card?" the owner asked showing the seven of clubs. When the South African replied, "no," the owner repeated the process revealing three other cards that were not the king of hearts. He then discarded the rest of the deck and placed the four cards he had revealed face down on the bar. The bottom card was the king of hearts. It was pretty impressive.
The next trick was simple but really amazed me. Taking the deck behind his back he cuts and reveals a card to us without him seeing it. "Seven of clubs." It was the seven of clubs. The deck again goes behind his back. He cuts and reveals another card. "Two of hearts." It was the two of hearts. Lather, rinse, repeat. "Five of spades. Ten of diamonds. Jack of diamonds. Three of spades." I don't remember the rest, and I stopped counting after seven. He may have done that ten times. Impressive.
 | |
| The blow up the condom over your head race. Again, not even close. |
At another bar last night, I met a comic from Saudi Arabia which induced a flashback from my 43rd birthday. My 43rd birthday was the best ever. For a while I thought my 44th was even better, but that was just an illusion. A beautiful illusion, but an illusion all the same.
I was dreading my 43rd birthday. It was going to be my first birthday after my divorce, and I was not looking forward to spending it alone. Fortunately, a friend who worked across the hall from me organized an outing that took on a life of its own (thank you, Jessica). A group of us went to dinner, played bar trivia, visited my favorite bartender in New Haven, and continued partying back at her apartment (uhm, sounds like Seoul).
After finishing third in the trivia contest we went to my favorite bar. We were sitting around a table having a great time when a middle eastern guy approaches us. "Excuse me. I'm a comedian. Would you guys mind if I try out some of my material on you?"
"Sure. Go for it."
"Well, my uncle just flew in from Pakistan. When I picked him up at the airport, he asked if we could go to a bar with laptops. I told him, 'Uncle, that is lap dance. Not laptop.'"
Silence. And then one of my friends says, "Dude, that was terrible." I do not think I will ever forget that moment. I felt bad for the guy, but I couldn't help but laugh. He was terrible. I give him credit, though. It took courage to tell jokes to strangers. It takes real courage when those jokes are awful.
I am happy to say that the Saudi Arabian guy was funny. I won't steal his jokes, but they were pretty good. Comedy night is the first Thursday of every month. Good to know because I'm beginning to believe that Seoul is as crazy as you need it to be.
Friday, August 19, 2011
It Seemed Like a Good Plan
I have mentioned in the Too Much of a Good Thing post that I have visited Korean dance clubs three times. My second trip was so bizarre involving hostesses dressed as Russian submarine sailors, a fight, a trip to the police station, interviews by the U.S. Military Police, crashing an English course at one in the morning, smoking hookah with a model from Portland... I'm hesitant to write it because I fear I cannot do it justice. Perhaps one day, but not today. Instead, I will tell a quick story about my third trip to the dance clubs since I am procrastinating packing for my trip to CT tomorrow.
One of my good friends here, Mike, is a Korean who lived in the States for several years and now teaches English in Seoul. One night he texts me that he will be in Suwon Friday night and I should join him. The night life there is pretty good, so he wants me to see it for myself. Of course I agree even though Suwon is about an hour and half trip by subway.
I arrived around nine o'clock even though things don't really start until midnight. Since we both hadn't eaten, we decided to scout around for a restaurant. We found a Brazilian barbecue place (Korean style) that was all you could eat for 12,000 won ($12); however, if you left food on your plate it was 24,000 won. Okay.
What does Korean style mean? It means that you cook the meat at your table. Not someone that works at the restaurant. You. Korean barbeque is very good. I've heard it is becoming popular in the States. I hope that is true. Since this was all you could eat, the raw meat was part of a buffet that included pasta, squid, and of course kimchi.
As you cook the meat, you cut it with scissors so that you can use chopsticks. Usually, you roll the cooked meat in a piece of lettuce with some other vegetables or rice. It is one of my favorites. Sadly, we did not eat all of our lettuce and were charged a 900 won food wasting penalty. That's roughly 90 cents.They can be very tough here.
Once we had finished dinner, Mike leads me to his favorite bar in Suwon, the Lucky Duck. "It's a dart bar with chicks," he says with a smile. Mike is a very good dart player, so I was surprised to see two dart machines, several tables, and a ... dance area. "They dance here too. Darts. Dance. It's all good. I don't dance though."
The club was not that crowded but we still had to wait our turn to play darts. As we were waiting one of the nerdiest guys I have ever seen wearing a blue tank top T-shirt begins to dance by himself. It was hilarious. Then some of his male friends join him on the dance floor. I love to watch the Koreans dance. They simply love to dance. These guys, however, were a little touchy-feely which is somewhat odd here.
Finally, it was our turn at darts. As we played I caught the eye of a woman near the dart machine. She clearly wanted to dance. Being the only foreigner in the dance club is a huge plus, so I asked her to dance. "Why not?", she said and off we went.
It was fun. She was a good dancer. When the song ended I thanked her for the dance and headed to our table. She must have really liked the next song because she grabbed me and dragged me back to the dance floor. I love the dance clubs.
Sadly, the summers here are really humid. Eventually, you work up a sweat sitting let alone dancing. We both needed a breather. I made it back to where Mike was sitting and started to drink my beer. The nerdy guy also needed a break until he passed my table. I guess seeing a foreigner was too much for him. Once again, a dude dragged me onto the floor at a Korean dance club.
I was a little concerned having seen him grind with his buddies, but I thought my female dancing partner would come to my rescue if I got in trouble. Indeed, I thought that would be a clever way to get her back on the dance floor. The guy was very nice asking me where I'm from and telling me how much he loves the U.S. Then his friends surrounded me. And they got closer and closer. Then the nerdy guy wanted to grind! His friends grabbed me, and I started waving to my female dance partner. I couldn't help but laugh. It was too ridiculous, but I also needed to get out of there. I got the attention of my partner's friend. She laughed and tapped my dance partner on the back. Thank God, I was about to be rescued. My dance partner turned, saw my predicament, and ... left! I really thought I was going to be dancing with her the entire night. Instead, I was trying to free myself form four grinding males as Mike just sat at the table laughing. I really thought the rescue ploy was going to work. The theory seemed sound.
One of my good friends here, Mike, is a Korean who lived in the States for several years and now teaches English in Seoul. One night he texts me that he will be in Suwon Friday night and I should join him. The night life there is pretty good, so he wants me to see it for myself. Of course I agree even though Suwon is about an hour and half trip by subway.
What does Korean style mean? It means that you cook the meat at your table. Not someone that works at the restaurant. You. Korean barbeque is very good. I've heard it is becoming popular in the States. I hope that is true. Since this was all you could eat, the raw meat was part of a buffet that included pasta, squid, and of course kimchi.
 | |
| Korean Barbeque is really good. |
Once we had finished dinner, Mike leads me to his favorite bar in Suwon, the Lucky Duck. "It's a dart bar with chicks," he says with a smile. Mike is a very good dart player, so I was surprised to see two dart machines, several tables, and a ... dance area. "They dance here too. Darts. Dance. It's all good. I don't dance though."
The club was not that crowded but we still had to wait our turn to play darts. As we were waiting one of the nerdiest guys I have ever seen wearing a blue tank top T-shirt begins to dance by himself. It was hilarious. Then some of his male friends join him on the dance floor. I love to watch the Koreans dance. They simply love to dance. These guys, however, were a little touchy-feely which is somewhat odd here.
Finally, it was our turn at darts. As we played I caught the eye of a woman near the dart machine. She clearly wanted to dance. Being the only foreigner in the dance club is a huge plus, so I asked her to dance. "Why not?", she said and off we went.
It was fun. She was a good dancer. When the song ended I thanked her for the dance and headed to our table. She must have really liked the next song because she grabbed me and dragged me back to the dance floor. I love the dance clubs.
Sadly, the summers here are really humid. Eventually, you work up a sweat sitting let alone dancing. We both needed a breather. I made it back to where Mike was sitting and started to drink my beer. The nerdy guy also needed a break until he passed my table. I guess seeing a foreigner was too much for him. Once again, a dude dragged me onto the floor at a Korean dance club.
I was a little concerned having seen him grind with his buddies, but I thought my female dancing partner would come to my rescue if I got in trouble. Indeed, I thought that would be a clever way to get her back on the dance floor. The guy was very nice asking me where I'm from and telling me how much he loves the U.S. Then his friends surrounded me. And they got closer and closer. Then the nerdy guy wanted to grind! His friends grabbed me, and I started waving to my female dance partner. I couldn't help but laugh. It was too ridiculous, but I also needed to get out of there. I got the attention of my partner's friend. She laughed and tapped my dance partner on the back. Thank God, I was about to be rescued. My dance partner turned, saw my predicament, and ... left! I really thought I was going to be dancing with her the entire night. Instead, I was trying to free myself form four grinding males as Mike just sat at the table laughing. I really thought the rescue ploy was going to work. The theory seemed sound.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Pizza on the Subway
The scene: One of the greatest subways systems in the world... and the most used.
The players:
A beautiful Korean woman standing in the subway car, headphones on, reading Jane Eyre completely oblivious to the rest of the world.
A doofus from Indiana carrying a pizza, our hero.
I suspect my friends are somewhat surprised how long it has taken for me to write about the subway. When I returned to the States last October after interviewing in Seoul, I raved about the subway system. I believe I was even mocked for how much I talked about the Seoul subway. Did that bother me? No, because the subway here is the greatest subway on the planet.
Okay, I have only been on the subway in London, Toronto, D.C., New York, and Tokyo. I really like the subways in D.C and Toronto. In 2004, I went to Japan on a business trip with a colleague from Greece. That was my first trip to a non-English speaking country, and I was a little intimidated. Fortunately, my Greek friend was well traveled and dragged me out to explore Tokyo.
Since cabs in Japan are expensive, we decided to try to use the subway. I remember entering the nearest station and being completely overwhelmed. The map on the wall was monstrous. The maze of lines was impressive. There were some English words, but that didn't really help. My friend and I just stared at the map trying to figure out how to get a ticket. Then a little old lady who didn't speak a word of English starts yelling at us as she points to the map. I smile at her, but she keeps talking and pointing. She points at the spot where we are. She points at another station. Then she points at the number above that station at the top of the map. She must have done this for several minutes. Then it hit me. If you go from here to there, you pay that. Suddenly, all of Tokyo opened up to us because a little Japanese lady who looked to be 150 years old was certain she could explain it to us. Awesome.
So why do I rave about the Seoul subway? Well, There are English subtitles everywhere. The station announcements on the trains are also spoken in English. Transfer announcements are made in English. Those things are very helpful but those things don't set it apart. The first thing I really like about this subway is that there are glass doors preventing access to the tracks. For some reason, I sometimes fear someone will push me onto the rails just before the train arrives. Can't happen here (at least at most stations).
Another thing that sets this system apart is the labeling of the stations above the glass door. Once in the New York subway, a friend who knew where she was going took the train in the wrong direction. I didn't mind. She was good company, but that is hard to do here.
A few months after my divorce I tried online dating. Many of my dates were in New York which meant taking the subway. "From the northeast corner of the subway exit go three blocks and take a right. The cafe will be on your left." Finding the right way out of the subway in New York drove me crazy. Granted, that is not a long drive but still... Here the exits out of the subway are numbered. "Let's meet at the Iranian restaurant. From Itaewon station take exit 3 and take the third right turn." Numbering the exits is simply brilliant.
Finally, each subway train has its own wireless hotspot. Your cell phone will get a signal deep in the heart of the subway system. Many people watch TV on their cell phones as they ride the metro. Indeed, most people are online and in their own world which leads us back to the attractive Korean lady and our Hoosier doofus. Recall that she has her head phones on, reading a book. The train is crowded so she is standing near the end of the car. Having a pizza to hold, I make my way to the end of the car. I notice her book is in English. I love talking to people on the subway, but there is no chance today. She doesn't even see me. Then she sniffs. Another sniff. She looks up. She looks around. She spots my pizza and smiles. Off come the headphones, "That smells really good." The headphones go back on. Another sniff. Reading is no longer possible. I think it helped that it was near dinner time. "That smells really good."
"I'm sorry. I was in the mood for pizza."
"Isn't there a place near you? What is so special about that pizza?"
To me trains are romantic. Something about the chance encounter, serendipity. "I think the brick oven was imported from Italy. All I know is that it is really good. It's called the Canadian - pepperoni, mushrooms, and bacon. Would you like the menu?"
"I'll give it to my sister. I am visiting her. I live in Paris and leave in a few days."
She's Korean, lives in France, speaks English, ... and I have her complete attention. Offer her a slice. Suggest that we get off at the next stop. We won't leave the station. We will just wait for the next train as we eat a slice of pizza. Do it! It will be really cool. Pull the trigger. You will never see her again.
This wasn't about a pickup. It was just about sharing an experience. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. She might have said no. She might have said yes. I will never know, and that is what made me a doofus. Still, I love riding the subway. Look for the guy with the pizza box. It's probably me.
Next week I'm in the States! I can't wait to see my daughter. I'm also a little worried about culture shock. "What do you mean, the bar is closing?" Hopefully, I will get to see the sun. That would be nice.
The players:
A beautiful Korean woman standing in the subway car, headphones on, reading Jane Eyre completely oblivious to the rest of the world.
A doofus from Indiana carrying a pizza, our hero.
I suspect my friends are somewhat surprised how long it has taken for me to write about the subway. When I returned to the States last October after interviewing in Seoul, I raved about the subway system. I believe I was even mocked for how much I talked about the Seoul subway. Did that bother me? No, because the subway here is the greatest subway on the planet.
Okay, I have only been on the subway in London, Toronto, D.C., New York, and Tokyo. I really like the subways in D.C and Toronto. In 2004, I went to Japan on a business trip with a colleague from Greece. That was my first trip to a non-English speaking country, and I was a little intimidated. Fortunately, my Greek friend was well traveled and dragged me out to explore Tokyo.
Since cabs in Japan are expensive, we decided to try to use the subway. I remember entering the nearest station and being completely overwhelmed. The map on the wall was monstrous. The maze of lines was impressive. There were some English words, but that didn't really help. My friend and I just stared at the map trying to figure out how to get a ticket. Then a little old lady who didn't speak a word of English starts yelling at us as she points to the map. I smile at her, but she keeps talking and pointing. She points at the spot where we are. She points at another station. Then she points at the number above that station at the top of the map. She must have done this for several minutes. Then it hit me. If you go from here to there, you pay that. Suddenly, all of Tokyo opened up to us because a little Japanese lady who looked to be 150 years old was certain she could explain it to us. Awesome.
 |
| The subway in Seoul |
 | |
| It is not as complicated as it looks |
So why do I rave about the Seoul subway? Well, There are English subtitles everywhere. The station announcements on the trains are also spoken in English. Transfer announcements are made in English. Those things are very helpful but those things don't set it apart. The first thing I really like about this subway is that there are glass doors preventing access to the tracks. For some reason, I sometimes fear someone will push me onto the rails just before the train arrives. Can't happen here (at least at most stations).
 | ||
| Outer glass doors will not open until train stops |
Another thing that sets this system apart is the labeling of the stations above the glass door. Once in the New York subway, a friend who knew where she was going took the train in the wrong direction. I didn't mind. She was good company, but that is hard to do here.
 | |
| The station the train came from and the station it is headed to has saved me many times. |
 | |
| Exits 1,4,5,8,9, and 10 are to the right. Exits 2,3,6, and 7 are to the left. |
"I'm sorry. I was in the mood for pizza."
"Isn't there a place near you? What is so special about that pizza?"
To me trains are romantic. Something about the chance encounter, serendipity. "I think the brick oven was imported from Italy. All I know is that it is really good. It's called the Canadian - pepperoni, mushrooms, and bacon. Would you like the menu?"
"I'll give it to my sister. I am visiting her. I live in Paris and leave in a few days."
She's Korean, lives in France, speaks English, ... and I have her complete attention. Offer her a slice. Suggest that we get off at the next stop. We won't leave the station. We will just wait for the next train as we eat a slice of pizza. Do it! It will be really cool. Pull the trigger. You will never see her again.
This wasn't about a pickup. It was just about sharing an experience. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. She might have said no. She might have said yes. I will never know, and that is what made me a doofus. Still, I love riding the subway. Look for the guy with the pizza box. It's probably me.
Next week I'm in the States! I can't wait to see my daughter. I'm also a little worried about culture shock. "What do you mean, the bar is closing?" Hopefully, I will get to see the sun. That would be nice.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Parking Issues
One of the things I really miss is listening to the radio while I drive. I even miss the radio wars with my daughter. Thank God she no longer listens to the Disney Channel.
I do not have a car in Korea, nor do I plan to get one. Driving here is crazy. So is parking. In a city with 10-12 million people (I keep losing count) parking is precious. You know you are in Seoul if you are dodging cars while walking down the sidewalk.
One way Koreans deal with parking is to just double park behind other cars.
This seems strange for a country that is so polite to be so rude when they park. Well, it turns out that they are actually considerate even when they double park. If you look at the second photo there are spaces between the double parked cars. It turns out that those cars are in neutral, so if you need to get out you just push the car blocking you out of the way. At first, Oliver and I were skeptical until we pushed one of them ourselves. Amazing. It sort of reminds me of those number puzzles where you have to push tiles around.
Another creative innovation is in the parking garages. In New Haven I would go crazy when the car ahead of me would virtually stop in the parking garage looking for an open space on the lower floors. In Korea, there are lights that let you know if a space is open. That is just brilliant. The garage also talks to you when you leave your car. I haven't ridden with anyone who speaks Korean to know what was said, but it sounds very happy and uplifting.
This garage is for the Korean version of Walmart. It is three stories with groceries on one floor and house hold items on another floor. To facilitate shopping on both floors, the escalator is flat so you can take your shopping cart with you. There actually are magnets near the wheels of the cart that lock it into the grid as you go up or down.
Perhaps one day I will get the urge to drive here. I love the signs. I mean the drivers may be crazy but at least they prohibit electric cars.
And some signs are quite considerate.
I'm not really sure why you need a sign to say goodbye. When I ask Koreans, they start to laugh. "I have never really thought about it. They are everywhere." The literal translation is more like 'we have enjoyed having you.' Of course, if I ever do drive, I will be too busy avoiding the taxis to read these uplifting messages.
Off to the Philippines for a long weekend. My first spur of the moment trip ever. I wonder what kind of disaster that is going to be.
I do not have a car in Korea, nor do I plan to get one. Driving here is crazy. So is parking. In a city with 10-12 million people (I keep losing count) parking is precious. You know you are in Seoul if you are dodging cars while walking down the sidewalk.
One way Koreans deal with parking is to just double park behind other cars.
 |
| This looks like a good spot |
 |
| There is more to this than meets the eye. |
Another creative innovation is in the parking garages. In New Haven I would go crazy when the car ahead of me would virtually stop in the parking garage looking for an open space on the lower floors. In Korea, there are lights that let you know if a space is open. That is just brilliant. The garage also talks to you when you leave your car. I haven't ridden with anyone who speaks Korean to know what was said, but it sounds very happy and uplifting.
 |
| Green lights are open spaces. |
Perhaps one day I will get the urge to drive here. I love the signs. I mean the drivers may be crazy but at least they prohibit electric cars.
And some signs are quite considerate.
I'm not really sure why you need a sign to say goodbye. When I ask Koreans, they start to laugh. "I have never really thought about it. They are everywhere." The literal translation is more like 'we have enjoyed having you.' Of course, if I ever do drive, I will be too busy avoiding the taxis to read these uplifting messages.
Off to the Philippines for a long weekend. My first spur of the moment trip ever. I wonder what kind of disaster that is going to be.
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