Loose Feet

After a wonderful time in Japan with my brother -- which I should explain later, but probably won't due to pure and utter laziness -- I came back to Korea and was a little disappointed with all the monotony of the people around me. I know it happens everywhere, but for some reason it seemed a lot more in my face after my visit.

BUT THEN.

Today, I was walking back to the subway in Gangnam after a morning of classes and right before walking down the stairs, I looked to my left and saw this old Korean guy. He had really long grey hair and was wearing a a wide brimmed hat with a pirate bandana wrapped around it and a wicked brown suit. Looked so out of place amongst all the richie richs running around him, but so awesome. I couldn't stop staring at him. He was smoking Marlboro Red's. And he knew I was staring at me. So he looked up and gave me this big toothy grin (but missing a few of the teeth). And I couldn't stop smiling -- he made my day.

So good. Doubt I'll ever see that guy again, but I hope he's having a great day.

Watching the Daily Show and was hard-pressed to stop laughing when they showed the Republicans cheering on Chicago's loss of the 2016 Olympics bid. Now I'm not one to care about the Olympics -- really, I had no idea who was even up for the Olympics until I was in a small Ryoken in Kyoto where the woman was dishing out free 'Tokyo 2016 Olympics' pins. But still, what Jon Stewart had to say was all too true. Man...the Republicans love America. But they love to hate Obama more than they love to love America. It's quite sad, when you get right down to it.

And the line between love and hate gets a little bit smaller with every passing American day...

One thing I just can't seem to get over...despite the year of practicing my patience and slowing things down and letting an uncountable amount of shit that involves me go down behind the curtains...I just can't seem to get over the fact that more often than not Koreans will just do things without asking your permission, mainly because they don't speak your language.

What is so hard about just asking, may I turn off the aircon? I don't see the problem.

I'm lonely today and I think that's crawled under my skin and died. I can't wait to be off work already.

A rainy, blustry day finally came today in Seoul, and it was well needed. It's been about 31 degrees here for the last 3 or 4 days. Hot, hot weather where it feels hard to breathe. I don't mind summertime, but I hate such thick humidity, where the cold sweat on your forehead is even colder than the bottle of water in your head. Makes me feel like I'm in a womb of flu bacteria.

I was relaxing in my apartment this morning, enjoying the peacefulness that comes with the sound of rain, watching the movie Battle Royale (otherwise known as Batoru Rowaiaru for the Japanese cult flick fans). Must make a note on this film before digressing into the issue at the heart of this writing. I recently finished reading the original novel Battle Royale, written by Koushun Takami. Fantastic book. What with living in Asia and learning more and more everyday about the different cultures here, I really enjoyed the cynical portrayal the author took on life as a student in Japan, and the farce that is the 'dog-eat-dog' nature of the world we are all supposed to enter into. I was addicted to it, nonetheless and I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a good read. That being said, the movie was a disappointment. I felt as though the movie tried to play into the emotional connections made between students, while simultaneously trying to push some sort of political platform that was never really fleshed out. I can see why it's a 90's cult classic...but I guess I can also see why I'm not really a big follower of this train. Ah well.


To the heart of the matter. I went into the shower, and was getting clean, when I heard some noise outside the door. I looked out and the room was full of Korean business men...I think. I'm not sure, because I didn't have clothes on so I didn't stay too long.

So here's the background. In Korea, there is not a landlord for one apartment building. Each apartment is owned by a different landlord -- at least in my apartment. So at this time, my apartment is up for sale. This does not mean that I have to move. Rather, it means that there will be a new owner of the apartment. Over the last few weeks, then, many different couples and businessmen have been coming to look at the apartment. They don't stay long, just walk in, look out the window, check out the bathroom and then leave. There's some conversations in Korean, which I never really understand despite my studies, and then they bow and walk out. Okay, fine. It's a bit annoying that these visits come at all times of the day -- I've had visitors at 8:00 am, 10:30 am, 1:30 pm, even 7:00 at night on a Saturday. But it's been copasthetic so far.

Until today. I was in the shower, my door was locked, and they still entered in to my apartment. While I was in the shower, they came in, looked around, and left. That means that they have my passcode in to my apartment. And to walk a step further, they can (and may have already) enter my apartment at any time, even if I am not in the premises. And I am NOT comfortable with that. I am not comfortable with people coming in and out of my apartment whenever they feel like it. When talking to one of my Korean friends, Kate, she said that normally they would call the person in the apartment and forewarn them of their arrival. However, in this case, as they could not speak English, they decided to wave this step and just come to my apartment without notice.

This is the reality of the language barrier that foreigners are too often forced to face when living in Korea. I have found that, in most situations, I can make do with what little language I do know, or carve an exit strategy for myself. But this was too far. It is one thing to have miscommunication, or in reality, a complete lack of communication at your hagwon, in your teaching environment. But to choose silence over struggle when it comes to my home is in another ballpark. A park where I am pissed. There is no reason why anyone should ever come barging into my home without warning. It would take no more than 3 minutes to call my phone and let me know that someone was coming. To have the security guard give me a note to let me know someone was coming. To warn me. But now my house has been invaded. I feel uncomfortable in an already foreign city.

I don't know why. Maybe it is my fault. But it just seems to get more and more frustrating with every day that passes.

This was so well put, and such a honest description of Koreans that I thought I should share it with you. It is a reflection on the country life of Koreans, as he walks along Route 1 from the small village of Naju to Gwangju (the fifth biggest city in Korea).

"The life of the urban Korean was changing with unprecedented rapidity, without a doubt; but out here, far from the influences of city life, the ancient, Confucian rhythms were being preserved - and the economic simplicities that went with them. Poor villages - no one ever hungry but no one with a compact-disc player, either - are strung along the length and breadth of Korea, and within them are hundreds of thousands of ordinary Koreans for whom the goal of middle-class British life is not only unattainable but also profoundly undesirable. It would be condescending to say that the Koreans are a people who admire what some writers about India call the 'dignity of poverty'. Quite the reverse: the Koreans are an ambitious, hardworking people, perhaps more hardworking than any I have ever encountered and ever will. They want to improve their lot. They want, desperately, to improve their children's lot. They will work all the hours God gives them to provide a good education for their offspring - no sacrifice is too much for a Korean father to make, no hours too long for a Korean mother to work, if only the child is well educated, is given a better chance, a better series of opportunities.

But at the same time there are those Koreans, both old and young - and the fact that young Koreans are included is important - who have as a conscious ambition a desire to preserve the essence of their lives and are thoughtful enough to care to resist the seductive charms of change....The Koreans - not all of them, by a long chalk, but many - seem to feel the same way. They know that Seoul is only a few hours away and there is chromium and glass and glitter and money and power there, and they appreciate the magnetism of it all. but they know also that what they have in these small villages - and yes, they also have electricity and direct-dial telephones, and I know one man in a thatched cottage who keeps a facsimile machine next to his kimchi pots - is as worth preserving as the modern world is worth exploring. Perhaps, I thought, I would meet someone along the road who would explain it more succinctly."

-- Simon Winchester Korea; A Walk Through the Land of Miracles

I still find it strange that in a city so big, I can often feel so alone. Today I do not want to be at work. I want to be at home, tucked away under the covers, letting my brain rest. I'm tired of socializing, I'm tired of talking and thinking and doing. I just want to rest.

Each day's a new day. It's time for a change.

While sitting having coffee with Eunjung this afternoon, I was reminded of a story that had slipped entirely to the back of my mind. She was telling me of how over the period of three years, she had gone to temples and built many 돌탑 -- small stone pagodas that you build and make a wish on; if it falls over while you are building it, then your wish will not come true. She wished to go overseas to Canada or the U.S.A. Three years later, her wish came true and she travelled through India and parts of Southern Asia, and then moved to Boston for a year. Though it seems hard to believe, she told me that she would like to think that the 돌탑 had something to do with the wish coming true.

When Charlie passed away, I spent a week in shock meandering around Seoul, trying to come terms with death and the way that I felt about my path and my actions at that time. The very next weekend, I headed down with a group of other unknown foreigners to Gyeongju City, in Gyeongsangbuk-do. It was a beautiful adventure, as the mountains were covered in a wild spread of reds and oranges and yellows. My mind was for once peacefully quiet, enjoying the absence of honking and drunken screaming. The highlight of the trip, however, was our visit to Bulguksa Temple, a beautiful working temple on the side of a mountain at the outskirts of the city. I trekked through the temple grounds, looked on as several monks followed through in prostrations, took in the solitude that I felt in all of it. I know he would have loved to have seen something like that in his short but very spiritual lifetime. At the back of the temple was a huge pagoda garden, with hundreds of 돌탑 built by visitors to the temple over the years. The monks had brought out more rocks for the newcomers, so I sorted through and picked out a handful of what seemed like strong rocks and started building. I built three or four 돌탑, knelt down and made a long, strong wish for Charlie's peace, and for my own peace. All I wanted was to be able to move forward with peace in both of our lives.

It's been nearly 7 months now, and I'm starting to believe that perhaps my wish is coming true. It's still in the makings, but I do believe I'm beginning to come to terms with such emotions as stability and contentment in my life. I used to find Korea so strange, an almost vast wasteland which I would never consider my home. Charlie's death had a huge part in making this country feel so uncomfortable. With time, though, I now find myself walking down the streets not even noticing how different I probably am from many of the people beside me. I don't imagine life at home. I don't know what it would be like, but I guess it doesn't matter, as I just don't think about it. I do strongly dislike my job, but the time that I spend outside of the workplace makes up for all those ugly feelings.

Ju has been an enormous help in all of this. It's strange, but I feel as though in just one month, he has become one of my best friends. I trust him. I can laugh easily, and loudly with him. I share stories that I don't feel comfortable telling other people. Silence is not wasted when I am with him, it is enjoyed. He is by far the most easy-going, down to earth, friendly Korean guy I have met since first arriving here. I can't help but feel like there's some element of fate involved in all of this. I got back from Japan, stunned by how amazing and outgoing and unafraid all of my brother's Japanese family were, only to meet Ju. I didn't feel like going to volunteer at a children's center, but I gave it a chance -- and it gave something back to me. Ju gives me that same sort of joy that I felt while in Japan. That it's okay to be me. In fact, that he wants me to be nothing else but me. It's given me a whole new outlook on Korea. I am so glad to have him as a friend. On Sunday, I went out to Shitaewon to play some pool and have some drinks with he and a friend of his, another English teacher by the name of Gary -- hilarious dude from Austin, Texas. Gary reminds me of everyone I hung out with when I was 17. Just a downright, dirty, free spirited travelling man who kept saying 'It's your choice, my friend'. Except he's in his forties (I think) and has been living in Korea for 15 years so he's got a lot of information to offer me. Anyway we were talking and he too agreed that Ju is one of his best friends here. Interestingly enough, the biggest compliment I heard from him was that there were actually very few people out there who he wanted to genuinely teach -- but Ju was a person who he wanted to share and teach everything to. As I told Ju afterwards, you're a lucky person if you have one guy like that on your side, always promoting your goodness. Anyway, I felt at home that night. Two guy who just got it. It's been awhile (Lis) since I felt like someone really got it.

I go to the gym now. I'm not a gym person. But there is something to be said for going to the gym. It gives me energy, it definitely improves my spirits. I'm trying to aim for three to four times a week. I never imagined myself doing that but I am now, and I'm really happy about it. I can feel my body changing, and it's been too long of a wait for that to happen. I volunteer at a low-income children's center. I was definitely hesitant at first, didn't want to give up my time, freedom and energy to teach more English. But I love the students, I get the feeling maybe they even like me too, and I enjoy giving back to people. It's a lot better of a way, for me, to spend my Saturdays -- rather then sleeping the day away. I've met many new Korean friends in the last few weeks, through International Friends Day and through volunteering and whatnot. I've got many people to hang out with and to help me start a life here in Korea. I have something to do all the time -- whether it be to go to a concert, or do a barefoot marathon, or pick up trash in the park with kids. It feels good to be busy, and not party busy, but real work. This is what I have been looking for for a long time. Satisfaction is completely underrated.