Cool As A Cucumber.

     Almost everywhere I go in Korea, despite all the fast-paced aspects of life on the peninsula, despite the incessant, hurried mentality of hard work and growth across the nation, despite the short tempers of taxi and bus drivers, despite the powerful elbows of the elder women who seek to jab the sides of bystanders (especially amplified on weekend market days), I maintain that there seems to be, for all people I meet here, a certain attainable, brilliant calm to Korean people that is, at once, under-appreciated and rarely seen in its purest form.  

     Plainly stated, to the best of my knowledge in my 19+ months here, many folks here have seemingly learned to grow thick skin, to move on from hard ships, to put yesterday behind and simply move forward to face a new day.  I too have learned a bit more about what this calm can do for one's general outlook.  Last year, at my countryside job, which I still miss sometimes, a bad day was never simply a bad day.  I had bad weeks, even a few bad months, and I simply hadn't grown the skin, the confidence, the teaching authority, and the flexible memory required to just let myself have a bad day and look forward to the next day.  These days, with a slightly less hectic school load, one school instead of five, and a clearer understanding of my ambitions, abilities and shortcomings as a teacher, I too have learned to find this calm.

     But this post is not really about me.  This is something I've been meaning to communicate, in as many words as it takes, to those of you who dearly worry about us expats on the Korean peninsula.  It is, of course, difficult to perfectly and logically describe everything that happens here on the ground to family and friends 7,000 miles away, but I want you to know that we're all okay.  

     People here, on the topic of North Korea, seem to be as cool as cucumbers.  We wake up, and sure, North Korea is the main focus of morning radio shows.  No surprise there.  We wind down and go to sleep, and North Korea is the main focus of the nightly news shows.  No surprise there.  We go to school, where teachers debate, in a language that I try so desperately to grasp, seemingly everything BUT North Korea.  That might be a surprise to many.

     I don't remember ever having a talk about North Korea with anyone at my school.  Kids seem to be more comically passionate about the issue, and some of my similar-aged Korean friends are open and concerned enough to talk about it.  

     I can distinctly remember the day that Kim Jong-Il passed away in December of 2011.  I was shocked to read the BBC story that broke, and immediately ran to the main teachers office to alert everyone.  I had, in my head, pressed some sort of panic button without any hesitation.  I explained, in my broken Korean, that the former Dear Leader had kicked the bucket.  Upon being told of the news, a few teachers turned around, shrugged, made a face, and returned to their computer screens.  The principal thanked me for the news, and everyone went back to work.  Everyone just went back to work.

     A year and a half removed from that moment, nothing seems to have changed, at least in a way that I can clarify to you if you're not living on the peninsula.  People here remain, for the most part, cool as cucumbers.  And why is that?

     It's easy enough to say that those in Korea are "desensitized" to the issue by now.  I'd imagine most of you stateside would echo this sentiment.  Frankly, I'm happy to be dealing with this abroad, as I can't even imagine what the West's top news dogs will do to create buzz about this story.  I'm glad I'm not there to see it.  I'm glad I'm here to live in.  Even if I only live 100 miles from North Korea.  

     That makes no difference to me, nor does it to anyone here.  I sincerely believe that, although we might be desensitized to this issue, that desensitization does not have to perpetuate ignorance or apathy.  That is not the case, I can assure you.  It's not that people in Korea have come to be so familiar with the topic and the geo-politics of it all that they forget it's all happening and cease to worry about it completely; nothing could be farther from the truth.  But there's something to be said here for the way that people continue to live, knowing what they know, living where they live.  

     People here are busy.  Ask almost anyone between the ages of, oh, 15 and 60, and they'll probably tell you how loaded their schedule is with work and study and family responsibility. You could easily make the case that people simply don't have enough hours in the day to spend much time worrying about North Korea.  That's where I would start, anyway, if asked to get to the heart of why people here are as cool as cucumbers.  

     People here have also come to be fully aware of just how better off they are, as well. North Korea, the DPRK, is none of those things--it's not democratic, it's not a republic, it's certainly not for the people.  And the effect of South Korea's rapid growth, economic and academic development, and subsequent prosperity (in some ways more than others) is hardly lost on those who live here.  Koreans know where they have come from, they remain as proudly humble about it as they are eager to press forward and continue to develop the country.  I think a less appreciated answer of the "why do people here stay so cool about the whole issue?"  question is the very fact that people remain ever-motivated to separate themselves from the identity of North Korea, to solidify themselves on a world stage, to continue to pull the nation up by its proverbial bootstraps, and to proclaim that it's all in a day's work, it's just part of the national mentality.  South Korea knows where it's been, and it seems, in many ways, to know where it's going.  It can't look back, it won't look back, and nothing good will come from looking back.  The fast pace of life can explain, on the surface, why the attention is not always drawn solely to the issue of North Korea, but the perpetuation to improve life, to move forward, to seek proud autonomy and honest effort might contribute as well.

     This is a chaotic post for a chaotic topic.  All I can say to those of you stateside is that I'm in good hands, I feel safe every day, I work with people who care about my safety and wellbeing, who have their fingers on the pulse of this issue as much as anyone, but who simply don't jump to press the panic button for a number of good, if poorly articulated by your's truly, reasons.

     So all of us, Koreans and foreigners, have really learned to become cool as cucumbers on the question of North Korea.  We're as tuned in as any, make no mistake.  But we all have  busy lives to live.

     More on this to come.  

A Slow Monday.

I’m currently on my laptop, but here’s what’s tabbed up on my school computer: a hockey game (currently streaming full-screen), my G-mail inbox, 2 articles, 1 on drone strikes and Obama’s foreign policy, and another on the finer points of raising taxes for the American public, as well as an hour’s worth of sappy Korean drama, courtesy of YouTube, my Korean listening practice for the day.

You know, the computer I should be doing work on. For school.

Of course, for some of us expats in the Korean ESL industry, especially this time of year, this is a large part of our jobs, a great deal of what we truly have come to be so good at—being at work, but not really working. You see, most of us in the public school system have no classes these days. The kids have all gone again, this time for about 2 weeks, on spring “vacation.” But make no mistake about it, this is not so much a vacation. Not for the students of our school. They apparently go back home, where most teachers attest to a lack of love and compassion, and at times, sadly, a lack of parenting or parents altogether. They go to academies, which see little to no vacation time for both teachers and students. They most certain don’t travel further than downtown Pyeongtaek, and they most certainly get little stimulation outside of a computer game.

Today, and for the next two weeks, I have no classes. But these things tend to, at any other point of the school year, change on a daily, no, hourly, no, as-the-seconds-tick-away basis.

Upon hearing the faint rumble of what could possibly be our English room door opening (which by association means my “co-teacher” will soon step into our office and observe what I’m so curiously busy doing), I turn the volume down on the stereo speaker that, up until this moment, blasted the sounds of skates and sticks and hip checks into the boards. St. Louis leads Vancouver, 3-2, late in the 3^rd period. Vancouver has about 20 seconds left on the power play, and still shows plenty of life.

Turns out that rumble was not our door. Crisis averted. Sound is on again.

Such is the nature of a day with no students, no classes, and barely any teachers in the school. If not for the humming of the ceiling heater, one could all but hear a pin drop in the English room office.

It’s 1:31 p.m. on a Monday afternoon. My co-teacher has made exactly 2 trips to the English room today, each time alerting me that she’ll be spending most of her day in the teachers’ room. There, she’ll answer phones, make schedules, kiss a little vice principal ass, and generally stay busy and as informed as she can about all the happenings around the school. She does this because she has to. She does this because, in Korean schools, those below the principal and vice principal work their entire lives (and, consequently, their entire asses) off for a mere crack at the opportunity given to the education system’s most superior figures (one of my vice principals last year would kick his feet up the sound of 9:00 a.m.’s class starting bell, open the newspaper, and break from this routine only to stroll down the hill for lunch). My co-teacher is the head of all the school teachers at our school, and as such, she spends most of her free time back and forth between the principal and vice principal’s offices, doing a little brown nosing and staying overly diligent.

Vancouver’s really peppering St. Louis in the offensive zone now.

So today, and this doesn’t happen too often, there is no one in the office with me for the better part of 8 hours. At my job, it’s as cool as it is sad. While I was initially thrilled at the chance to mindlessly internet surf, read books as I pleased, even watch movies or catch up on recently missed episodes of useless TV shows as I saw fit, I tried to spend a great deal of this time writing, studying Korean, and preparing some classroom materials that, for myself and my co-workers, at least give the impression of an honest day’s work. I can remember a few conversations in the last month or two in which we, Pyeongtaek’s expats, asked each other “so, what do you tend to do while deskwarming?”

I watch hockey at my desk, too. I can’t deny that. But you can bet that, when I hear that distant door slide open, the volume’s off and the Korean study book is opened to a seemingly complicated page, full of new words and reading practice.

Vancouver just tied it…and we’re heading to overtime.

Just Another Thursday

     Tardy on the blogging yet again. And why? I've spent so much time at my desk these days, I've literally stated scrambling for ways to try to look busy when my eternally stressed co-teacher comes in, frazzled about vice principal this and obligations that. I want nothing more than to help her, but I've settled on the fact that her answer will be the same as it always is: "you look busy, and I don't want to burden you."

     "But Mrs. Cheon, I'm really not so busy right now, and I would really like to help."

     "Why aren't you busy?"

     Such is life here. I can't really buy a win--the students come in, and sure, I'm happy to see them, but it would be nice to be notified of such once in a while. Conversely, there will be entire days with no classes, during which I'm totally prepared in that the computer is on, the heat is blasting, and the review game .PPT is all set...

     And then nobody shows up, and suddenly I feel a little empty inside. I hang my head, turn off the computer, turn off the heating, close the window (don't get me started on Korean teachers and their insistence to have, yes, simultaneously, windows open and heat blasting in the thick of winter), and saunter back to my desk. I say saunter because, if I step too firmly on the floor, our little space heater starts flashing and sparking and altogether not working.

     And yet I'm not sure what that has to do with anything. I don't know where I was going with that. I guess, these days, I'm just bored. I study Korean in my free time (the grammar is starting to eat away at what brain capacity to learn a language I have left), I watch hockey highlights (happy to have it back!), I read my Hemingway book (A Farewell to Arms, good stuff), and I prepare alphabet books and simple stories for my kindergarten and 1st-2nd graders next semester. I still have 3 weeks to do...just about anything! Our semester will start again in March.

     My life has become one awkward conversation with my co-teacher.

     We have an hourly chat about an English word in which she takes some interest in using in a few sentences, we squabble about the room being cold, she takes a few calls from superiors and is visibly flustered, and I bide my time with the aforementioned attempts to look busy.

     On the bright side, although it is Valentine's Day (better spend it with the teachers!), we have a teachers dinner tonight--in Korean, this is referred to as a "회식." These are always really fun events, and I can in no way complain about how well we are all treated at such 회식s. There is usually amazing food involved, heavy drinking from the male end of one, awkwardly long table, stories told about school, life, relationships (some meant to be heard by all, some merely soju-induced spats about things that should not be uttered in such company), and even a quick 5-minute jab at American culture and customs...if we're really lucky, an elder, Mr. 최, offers a rant about why Samsung has been, is, and will continue to be, the greatest company conceived on this fine planet and why Apple can simply never match up.

     Of course, then it's on to the 노래방, literally "singing room," or karaoke, where all is forgotten and everyone's just down to have a good time, drink some more beer, get a little frisky (and by that I mean our 60-year old female principal danced pretty close to me during my rendition of the Rolling Stones's "Honky Tonk Women" at our first such get together), and just pound on the 2-3 tambourines each room is offered.

     Tomorrow the 6th graders graduate. I've got some mixed feelings on that...certainly I'll miss them, but they've been real punks as of late--surely, the knowledge of the proximity of their ceremony has not been lost on them. All teachers are pretty psyched, it seems, to have them out of the school, as they've all but given up on any form of classroom work that doesn't involve a smart phone or an open space in which to tackle each other.

     That's all from the captain's chair today, folks. Thanks for reading!

     -Sam

Moving Beyond K-Pop...For Now.

     I admit it.  K-Pop (the lady variety) is some sexy stuff.  K-Pop is also, at times (the dude variety) some androgynous stuff.  For all its powdered and reconstructed faces, catchy beats and moves, and general, seemingly impossible, duality of both sexuality and innocence, K-Pop is simultaneous eye candy and headache.  Those who know me know that I'm only a K-Pop fan to the extent that it drops my jaw, helps relate to my students and other Koreans, and occasionally makes my girlfriend or even my sisters roll their eyes and think "get off it, Sam...enough already."  Those who know me know that I'm as cynical and critical (if not more so) about the industry as I am actively, happily engaged in it.  But that's neither here nor there.

     I've recently come across some other Korean music that I find absolutely groovy; music to which I cannot stop jamming in my apartment at 6:00am or 10:00pm.  The only difference is that this music doesn't blow up on YouTube, sell millions of tickets worldwide, or find its hands tied by singers who desperately try to project any personality they are allowed, and by deep-pocketed executives and record labels who seem to own and control every move, every tweet, every scandal and every cute, posed photo.  Maybe it's not music that's exciting and frustrating me today.  Perhaps I'm just having a bad day.

     Anyway, lately I've been listening to Primary (프라이머리) and Bye Bye Badman (바이바이배드맨)  lately.

     

     And they don't disappoint.  Here's Primary laying down some beats and vibes for his friend Zion T, who (in all fairness to Korean women in music videos, K-Pop or not) sings to a woman as dangerously good looking as any on the scene.  This one's called "Meet."

     How tasty is that song?  Simple, funky as can be, with a full horn section, some sneaky, cooly-spit lyrics and a foxy lady.  

     Here's Primary and some other friends, Zion T included again, laying down some funk that my good friend here in Pyeongtaek, Scott, could only refer to as sounding "like a dead ringer for Jamiroquai."  Nothing wrong with that.  This one's called "See Through."

      Scott had it right on that one.  Again, cool, relatively simple video.  Again, some good looking women and fly clothes I wish I could pull off.  I remember hearing this outside a Pyeongtaek burger joint last Monday thinking all this song makes me want to do is shoot soju and dance for hours.  And if you know anything about me, you know that takes a very specific, very saucy tune.

     Then there are these folks, from whom I've only heard a few tracks: Bye Bye Badman.  I'll have to read up a bit more on them, though that kind of info is hard to find!  All I know is they look like a bunch of kids right out of, or still enrolled in, the baddest, artsiest, fartsiest high school in Seoul.  Just a collection of cool looking kids who use plenty of English lyrics to spice up their garage-band sound.  They even drop a "fuck."  This is called "Low."

     Again, I know little of these folks beyond the fact that they occasionally play at offbeat Hongdae haunts.  Sign me up sometime, though.

     So just to set the record straight, there seems to be plenty more great music coming from this ever-complicated country--at least, for a change, some that transcends the silicone and superficiality of K-Pop's finest.  I hope this kick lasts, and I'll continue to post any solid stuff I find in the near future.  Because I can't resist talking K-Pop for more than, oh, 5 minutes without cueing up a tab full of legs, here's my sign-off.  Until next time.