'Korea' Moments, and Smiling More

I was walking down the street today after work through a bar district. I came across a group of bikers gathered around their Harleys, smoking unfiltered cigarettes, swigging soju and probably gruffly cursing in Korean (I don't know enough to say one way or the other). I guess I was a little intimidated, and I didn't make eye contact or anything. The idea of Korean bikers might seem a little funny to you, reader, and it seems a little funny to me, too, but let me assure you these guys were the real deal. At least, they were as real as bikers can get over here.

Anyway, after taking in the scene for a second or two and getting past that first impression, I looked up to read the name on the bar where they'd decided to gather. It read: "Kenny G Bar."

This is what is called by me and many other expats over here a 'Korea Moment.' It's a point in time where expectations get confounded by Western perceptions, to put a dictionary.com spin on it. It's when 1+1=3. It's usually the highlight of my day.

Today was otherwise highlight-less. Joanne and I had the first of two Open House Days, in which the kindies' mommies come to SLP and meet with the directors and such, and then spend 45 minutes sitting in our class while we coteach. Everything went fine, though Joanne was upset because one kid burst into tears when we asked him to answer a question he's been given everyday for the past four months ("Sung Pil, how are you today?" answer: Crying) and another yawned a few times. I thought she was getting a bit too wrapped up in the whole thing, but of course I don't have to talk to these mommies, they're just 10 more expressionless ajummas like the ones I pass on the street everyday...I don't have to interact with them...she's the one who has to field their pointless phone calls about Yoo Jin not getting enough rice at lunch or Myung Bin having trouble reading my handwriting.

To be honest the whole exercise is so bizarre and pointless that, as I so often do, I just insulated myself from worry with a nice fuzzy blanket of not-giving-a-shit. In that way it's like so many other things here in Korea... But what I mean is that at SLP we ALREADY have cameras in every classroom and a special room set up for the mommies to come watch the classes whenever they want, but on top of that we want to set aside a special day for them to all crowd into our little classroom where we know the kids will be distracted and/or disturbed by their presence (see: Sung Pil) and as such the viewers will get (probably) an inaccurate impression of how much their son/daughter has learned, and to make matters worse instead of having a normal teaching day where there is one teacher and 10 students, we make the co-teachers teach together in front of the class so that they can stumble over each other as they try to adhere to what they normally do with a lesson, and then after we've warped the system and fucked everything up we have to listen to these mommies complain about things going wrong that would've been right on a normal fucking day when there was one teacher and 10 students in the class and pale faced permed up ajumma was sitting alone sipping overhot green tea in the observation room in front of a bunch of monitors.

As I said there's no point getting too wrapped up in this shit. And there were few complaints, and, if my boss can be trusted (which is quite a big if) none of them had anything to do with our teaching style, but were about institutional problems at SLP.

Honestly the most trying thing about the day was having to remember to smile. A few weeks ago my boss observed my class and his biggest complaint was that I didn't smile enough. No shit. Not a smiler, here. I mean I like to laugh as much as the next person but I'm not someone who normally walks around with a big grin on my face, and when I try to pretend I always come off looking like a deranged escaped mental patient. With the kindies I've just been being myself, and I get along fine with them, but apparently that's not good enough for the mommies so the word was passed down that I had to up my grinning by a good 25%. That was a fun adjustment.

What else, what else. I got my first Korean haircut the other day and it went really smoothly, which was a tremendous surprise, and it only cost owe-cheon (5,000). I've started to get a pretty good grip on the number system, and I actually understand what someone is saying when they tell me the price. This has made things a lot better.

Oh, here's a pop quiz for the rare reader who's made it this far. I mentioned a few Korean names in this post, Sung Pil, Myung Bin, and Yoo Jin. Try to guess which of them are boys, and which are girls. I'll post the answer next time. Until then,

McDonald's and the Cultural Womb

I thought this article was really interesting and insightful. I spend way too much time in my local Mickey D's here in Bucheon and after reading through the article I think I have a better understanding of why.

Indeed, despite its vaunted reputation as a juggernaut of American culture, McDonald's has come to function as an ecumenical refuge for travelers of all stripes. This is not because McDonald's creates an American sense of place and culture, but because it creates a smoothly standardized absence of place and culture — a neutral environment that allows travelers to take a psychic time-out from the din of their real surroundings. This phenomenon is roundly international: I've witnessed Japanese taking this psychic breather in the McDonald's of Santiago de Chile; Chileans seeking refuge in the McDonald's of Venice; and Italians lolling blissfully in the McDonald's of Tokyo.

Interestingly enough, the author mentions that he taught for 10 years in Busan, S Korea.

Speaking of Busan, I did a short trip down there this past weekend. There's nothing really interesting to report, but it was good to see the city, however briefly, and it sure as shit was nice to get away from Bucheon for a while. Every time I travel outside of the Seoul area in Korea I feel relieved...I dunno, there's just something about this area that doesn't really suit me. I'm not sure what it is yet. I guess I'll check back in when I get a better idea.

The Bucheon Comics Museum

I work in Incheon but I live right over the border in Bucheon, a smaller city (we only have 1 million people instead of 2 something) which prides itself on a few esoteric things, the most memorable being (for me anyway) its adoption of the title "Cartoon City." Wow, what an awkward sentence, but it was borne from the moment and I'm going to let it endure into posterity. Anyway, on Tuesday the SLP morning crew took a field trip to the Comics Museum in the city.

I know what you're thinking. A Comic Book museum: score! Well...not so much. There was some cool stuff...we watched a 3D animated movie that was really good I thought even if it was a little intense for kids (it was about apocalypse and dead robots and whatnot), there were some kickazz old Korean cartoons filled with all sorts of narrative non-sequiturs, and I think I caught a glimpse of Amazing Fantasy #15 (the first appearance of Spiderman - yes, I'm a dork) behind some thick glass but I was moving by too fast to really get a good look at it.

And yet, this may come as a surprise to you, but most of it was about...Korean comics, which are, how can I put this delicately? Not at all interesting to me. And not really all that interesting to the kids, either.

I did get to fill up on a lot of my kids' snacks, though, so that was good. You see whenever we go on a field trip the kids bring along stuff from home and then they love to give one piece of candy or one potato chip or one squid candy thing to me, and after the first one offers up something all the others have to imitate so I wind up with a shitload of shit I shouldn't be eating. And I didn't have to teach, so that was good too. But otherwise it was just another boring day here in K-Ville East.

Death of a Blogger

My friend and co-teacher Joanne got some really crummy news today. Her ex-boyfriend and still-friend Shawn, who had written extensively about his time in Korea on his blog, committed suicide a week ago in China, where he was teaching. You can read the details here. I'd never met the guy and never really talked about him with Joanne, but before I set out for Korea his was probably the blog I read most and from it I got a lot of ideas about how life here was going to be. It was a really cool moment for me when I found out that she was the 'Julie' he'd written about during his time in Bucheon...it was kinda like meeting the actor from a TV show, I guess.

Anyway, he had quite a bit to say and it was one helluva blog, and he seemed like he was a really decent person. What a waste. Joanne was devastated, and I can only imagine how his friends and family back home must feel. The whole thing has me really bummed out and feeling bad for those who were directly affected by his death...

War, Juseyo...

Saturday was the day of the big DMZ trip. Finally, I'd be seeing something truly interesting in this country, something it's known for, something someone on the other side of the world might've heard mentioned on the news once or twice. It was going to be a good day.

Well...not so much. Let me begin by saying I'm at least partly to blame. I drank way too much Friday night (surprise!) -I'd been planning on not drinking at all- and I felt like shit well into Saturday. It didn't help that the day began at 7:30, which is about an hour and half before I start functioning normally on a weekday. But when the alarm sounded, to my credit, I hopped out of bed and got going.

Myra, Lara and I got to the pickup point in Hongdae ahead of schedule. We met up with some other people we knew and everyone boarded the Adventure Korea bus around 9. 20 minutes or so later we started moving, and after about an hour we made our first stop, in Imjingak. We were only there for 20 minutes, as we'd be stopping back there again on the way out. I didn't see much except for the convenience store and the parking lot.

Next stop: lunch. What had been an annoying drizzle matured into a good old fashioned drenching. As Canadians say, it was "fucking pissing." The meal we were served was about as satisfying as most Korean meals I've had, let's just put it at that. I started feeling less hungover but more queasy...not really a good trade off.

Next up: the DMZ museum and Tunnel #3. This was probably the best part of the trip. The museum had a lot of interesting displays about things that've happened in the last 50 years or so along the North/South border, including all sorts of stories about pointless minor skirmishes that nearly escalated into war. There was a bizarre film that did a good job of walking that fine line between touching/hilarious, whose star was a sad little girl who walked along the fence on the border with a flower in her hand contemplating the pointless devastation of war and other such things (I think), but who cheered up at the end of the flick when the narrator awkwardly said something like "unimaginable perhaps it was once but the prospect of peace appears on the morning horizon like a hopeful dove." Ok I'm exaggerating a little there, but the film was still kinda funny.

The best/most exhausting part here was the descent into Tunnel #3. You see, apparently over the last 50 odd years the North Koreans have been steadily digging tunnels from their side of the country into the South. The Americans and South Koreans have uncovered four of these tunnels, and we were allowed to enter the third one which was discovered sometime in the mid 70s I think. The last one, #4, was discovered in 1990, a little too close in history for comfort, for me. What was even more unnerving was the fact that tunnel #3, if it had been left undiscovered, could have delivered 30,000 North Korean troops/hour to within 30 miles of Seoul. That's more than a little frightening.

The tunnel itself was nothing spectacular, it was between 5-6 feet in height and about the same in width and we were allowed to walk maybe a half mile into it. But before we started that venture we had to descend about a mile or so underground by walking down a steep sloped passageway, which was a little tiring. Walking back up that slope was a lot tiring. I was sweating like the hog who knows he's dinner once I got to the top.

Next stop: some sort of observatory atop a mountain from which on a clear day the visitor might be able to see pretty far into North Korea. Saturday was not a clear day. The soldier who gave us a briefing about what we could see as we looked out into the distance had an impressive command of the English language, but after I lost interest in seeing if he split any infinitives my mind started to wander and I thought, "Christ, it sure would be great if something fucking happened. War, juseyo (I want war)"....

We hopped back on the bus and headed over to Dorasan Station, the "first stop headed north." Myra pointed out that was kinda wrong, but I wasn't in the mood to quibble at this point. I got my passport stamped which was kinda cool and bought a 500 won ticket to tour a (mostly empty) train station. If our tour guide was right, and I certainly hope he was, within a coupla years people will be able to buy a ticket here for Paris. I don't know shit about the current state of North/South talks, but I'm a little skeptical about that.

The last stop was the same as the first, Imjingak. I spent most of my time in the gift shops and smoking cigarettes near the bus, so I didn't get to see the Freedom Bridge where families split apart by the war had been reunited, nor did I see the ginormous bell that somehow celebrates/mourns for Korean unity. Whatever. After that it was another long bus ride to Hongdae, then a long cramped train ride home. Ah, there's nothing like being soaked and exhausted and having to stand buttcheek to buttcheek with a gazillion Koreans who're also riding the #1 from Seoul to Incheon.

Despite some of the disappointments of the trip, and despite how I felt Saturday night, I'm still glad I went. It needed to be done. I've been there, I've seen something that is important in the whole Korean experience and maybe I understand the country a little better.

But still, a little war would've been nice.

YouTube

The internet's full of time wasters, of course, but this new one might be the most insidious and addictive of all. I really don't have much to say on the subject, you can head over there and check it out for yourself, I just wanted to test its video linking thing in blogger. Carry on...

A Thousand Words About Teaching English in Korea

Hot 'n Heavy

Monday was Teacher's Day here in Korea. In the good old days, teachers would be bribed with all sorts of shit so as to pay better attention to the progress of the briber's son/daughter...at least if what I read on the internet is true. But these days, the bribes're out of reach, to paraphrase Bon Jovi, because at SLP we don't believe in them. Well, at least management doesn't believe in them...for the teachers.

Apparently in the week before we'd sent home a letter telling the parents not to give us cash gifts, new computers, or tickets to Jeju like they were planning to. If only I wasn't so damned Hangul-ignorant I could've intercepted said letter and made out properly. Alas, I would have to settle for the stuff SLP deemed kosher, like gifts of food and meaningful letters and whatnot.

My preschoolers dumped a half dozen or so flowers on me, one from each giver. Some were fake, some weren't, some were wrapped in plastic others were exposed to the world...sort of like people, I suppose, and like people despite their differences they met the same fate: they were dumped in the trashcan near my desk the next day. Not that I didn't appreciate the gesture, but my job is already emasculating enough and I don't really need a bunch of 7 year olds handing me flowers to be reminded of it. But it's the thought that counts.

The afternoon crew was a little more thoughtful, I guess. I got a few buckets of candy, some sweet hair gel which I'm gonna use to catch roaches in my apartment, and one interesting, sweet, and slightly unnerving letter from a student.

Yeon-Woo is one of the brightest girls in my Honor's class and she's a really good student. She's very energetic and she's a delight to teach. She also apparently has a crush on me. Check it out:

As I said to AJ, "I am SO in with this 8 year old." Anyways, kudos to her for the flattering portrait. I don't think my waist has been that thin since I was her age. And if there were brownie points to be had, she's got em.

Dog Testicles Are The Best Part

After work yesterday a bunch of us were planning on going to eat duck. Tasha, one of the Korean teachers, had arranged the whole thing and been talking up this mud-baked delicacy for days. Well, on Friday people started to bail. One wanted 'to go buy a phone card.' Another had 'errands.' By quitting time there were only three people still in, myself included.

I still wanted to go, and I think the other white person did, too, but Tasha didn't. So we cancelled the duck.

"You know," Tasha said to me as we were all getting ready to go our separate ways. "There's a restaurant in my neighborhood that serves that kind of food you want to try..." Notice the roundabout phrasing, as if she doesn't want to be the first one to say 'let's eat dog!' Koreans are a little bashful about the whole thing, at least at first...

"You mean dog?" I asked.

"Yes...let me call my husband and see if he can meet us there."

That accomplished, and after having given an overly positive answer through Tasha to the husband who asked 'can he drink soju?', Tasha and I set out (in her car) for some dark corner of Bucheon where they slice open man's best friend and devour him.

The restaurant was busy. It was clean and tidy, there weren't any mutts hanging by their tails in the window. The people all looked reasonably sane. Children chased each other around the tables.

We removed our shoes and sat down at a table off in a corner. Tasha and I arrived first, her husband came in a few minutes later, carrying their 11 month old with him. He (the husband...whose name I can't remember) was one of those rugged urban types, ya know, with the long hair tied back in a pony tail and the cigarettes in the shirt pocket. He looked like he spent his days in a studio tossing buckets of paint at an enormous canvas. He didn't have much to say. He told me dog meat supposedly counters the effects of soju, which would be important that evening.

They brought out the kimchi and other side dishes first. I dug into the radish kimchi, so much so that later in the evening the husband (who only knew a little English, but it was still more Korean than I know) attempted to ask me 'you....like...' I said yes, of course, though the answer is still no (though I am warming up to the stuff). Actually I was just trying to fill my stomach up with something, because I had no idea what was coming. And the kimchi was pretty good, it wasn't overly spicy...I've heard you can judge the quality of a Korean restaurant by the quality of the kimchi, so maybe I was in one of the premier dog places.

Next came the big bowl of soup which they put down in the middle of the table and which everyone shares. It was ok, also not too spicy.

Then came the main course. Tasha ordered some sort of 'very young' (as she put it) chicken, which was excellent. I would've liked more of that. Her husband and I had the dog to share.

It was served in cutlets...it sort of looked like strips of bacon, only a little bulkier and brown. It was very close to raw, in fact, it may have been raw, I honestly don't know because by that time we were on our 3rd bottle of soju and I wasn't thinking about that sort of thing. The meat itself was just a thin strip on the top of the cutlet, there were big globs of fat attached below.

The taste, the taste...was not something you'd write home about. There was very little flavor at all. The meat was very chewy, but what made getting it down wasn't the chewiness, or the thought that occasionally popped into my head 'Christ I'm eating dog,' but rather it was the fat on the meat that was so disgusting. Take a handful of fat from any digestible animal, pig cow or dog and shove it in your mouth and tell me if you like it.

I helped myself, and probably had six or seven pieces. Even if I don't like something in a situation like that I'm not going to refuse it. And I thought I was representing myself pretty well.

Then they brought out the balls. I think the husband ordered more because he saw I was enjoying my dog so much. He takes his chopsticks, points at this round piece of something on the new plate, gives me a wicked grin and says ''

"What?" I asked.

He said it again. Tasha had to translate, but by now I had it figured out. She did an admirable job "this is the part of the dog that...hm...how do you say..."

"The sensitive area?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Balls."

"Yes, balls."

Well, fuck it, I though, I didn't come all this way to avoid eating balls. I tried it. Twice. And let me tell you dear reader, dog testicles really are the best part. They almost taste like chicken, they have actual substance (unlike the fatty meat we'd been consuming) and I can almost recommend them.

After that was eaten there were no more challenges to overcome. I didn't have to eat dog eye, or brains, or toenail, or whatever. An hour or two and a lot of soju later, Tasha and her husband pushed me into a cab and sent me home. I had big plans for the evening of hanging out with the duck avoiders and bragging about my dog experience, but when I went up to my apartment I collapsed and passed out. Too much soju. Not enough dog.

Frog is Life: Frog Live!

Friday was Buddha's Birthday (and Children's Day...I'm not really sure if that's a coincidence or not) and we had the day off. Lotsa people were travelling and getting out of dodge...several people from my school were going to Seoroksan Mountain east of Seoul, some others were going to some islands somewhere, but I decided to be my usual anti-social self and head out on my own. I wanted to see if I could make it across the country by myself (I can) and I wanted to do my random/traveller thing that I used to do back home...you see I used to be big on the road trip thing, I loved heading out in a car and winding up somewhere unknown. I don't have a car here, of course, but I have the next best thing: an extensive network of overheated and bathroomless buses that constantly careen up and down the highways of S Korea.

I had planned on starting in Busan. It just seemed like the place to go...it's a big city (second only to Seoul) it's on the coast and has a lot of beaches (not that I'm a big beach guy, but hey, at least I'd have options) and it has a pretty big expat community. I'm basing this on what I've heard/read, you see, I didn't actually make it to Busan.

'Work' on Thursday was fine, we were prematurely celebrating Children's day by playing a bunch of games with the kids and selling them cheap wares which they purchased with the 'dollars' they 'earned.' Let me explain. In preschool, when a kid does something good (which is pretty rare) s/he gets a sticker on his/her grape sheet. The grape sheet is a sheet of paper with the image of an oversized bunch of grapes. Each sheet has, I dunno, 30 or so grapes on it. When you fill up your sheet with stickers, you get a dollar. The more dollars you get, the more crap you can buy on Market Day (which was Thursday). In Rabbit/Horse classes (the two I teach everyday with my coteacher) stickers have been pretty hard to come by. Two days before Market Day I think we had three or four kids with 1 dollar...out of 20. Now, the shit they buy on Market day costs 2-3 dollars, and every kid is supposed to have at least two. So on the Wednesday before Market Day we were handing them out when the little brats tried to pretend to be caring about learning. Of course, in a just world, the idiotic Jin Kyungs out there would be dollar-less and crying in a corner on Market Day, but preschool is just as unjust as everywhere else, only moreso. An example of the charade:

Wayne Teacher: What day is today, Jin Kyung?

Jin Kyung: Twu-dae is...

Wayne Teacher: Yes...

Other Students: Wednesday! Wednesday! WEDNESDAY!

The Smart Student Who Likes to Make Fun of the Dumb Ones by Feeding Them Wrong Answers: Monday!

Jin Kyung: Mu dae...

Wayne Teacher: No, today is Wednesday.

Jin Kyung: We dae...

Wayne Teacher: Fine, here's a dollar.

So because we had all of this crap to do on Thursday, in place of teaching, (I'm not really complaining about not having to teach, but escorting the munchkins around from one pointless activity to another and feigning interest in who wins the soccer kicking game can be tedious, too) it was an early day. We were permitted to leave at 5. So when the whistle blew I high tailed it back to my apartment, packed, and made it to the Express Bus Terminal in Seoul a coupla hours later.

The chica at the ticket booth didn't speak much English, but she had one phrase down pat: "Sold out," she said, when I asked for a ticket to Busan. I was disappointed, I guess, but not upset. There were plenty more places to go. So I stepped out of line, dug my Lonely Planet guide outta by bag, and started flipping through looking for the pages I'd dog eared. I wanted to go to a city, but not necessarily a big one. I wanted to be able to meet expats there, but I wasn't looking for Itaewon South. I wanted a place with a little culture, maybe a sight or two to see. I wanted to get laid.

I settled on Gwangju Sure enough, there were tickets left for the penultimate bus that evening. After four or so hours in the back of a bus, I arrived around 2. I was not impressed. Maybe it was the KFC at the bus station, maybe it was the neon 'DISCO' signs, but I kept thinking about what someone had told me about Korea: "everywhere you go, it looks the same."

Well, that person may have been half right....I found out the next day (Friday) that Gwangju was a little different, under the surface. I still don't have a camera (at least not a digital one) so instead of showing you I'm gonna have to rely on my limited descriptive abilities. But Gwangju is in many ways like Seoul/Incheon/Bucheon. There are the same HOFs/PC bangs/Vespas/barber poles/red-light-running buses that you see everywhere else. But for me it had a real small town feel that I liked a lot. The people were very friendly, and they seemed eager to speak to a foreigner, especially one who was visiting their city. I get that where I live, too, but I also get a lot of surly ajoshis (I think that's the word...) and people with their noses stuck up in the air. I didn't find that in Gwangju. I even had one guy come up to me in a bar and ask for English lessons...that hasn't happened in 2 months in Incheon.

What I really liked was how un-crowded it was compared to where I live. Maybe it was b/c of the long weekend and a lot of natives had left town, but I never felt the press of people like you do sometimes in Seoul. And I don't think I heard a single horn honked, which was nice.

The nightlife was kinda dead, again, maybe because of the long weekend. I didn't see many foreigners, and the only ones who tried to strike up a conversation with me were a drunk German couple. That didn't work out so well. But I did see a lot of the city during the day. I saw a couple of the memorials in the city, one dedicated to students who protested Japanese occupation 80 years ago, and a park dedicated to the students who died in the Gwangju Massacre I tried to make it out to the cemetery where they're buried which is supposed to be a sort of holy place in Korea, but I couldn't find a bus and the cabbie wanted to charge me 20K.


I saw the World Cup Stadium up close, which was cool as hell. But the highlight of the trip, I guess, was my visit to the art museum.

Gwangju is apparently known as one of the (if not THE) artistic centers in S Korea...they even had an 'Art St' which is not something I expected to come across in this country. So I was ready to be impressed with the museum...

Well, not so much. There's only so many times you can look at another variation of some 15th Century Chinese guy's take on rural life. I swear to god there were at least a dozen of these in one room and every single one was the same: a broad river in the foreground that snakes away into a mountain in the distance which has a few wispy clouds around it. The only difference was what the peasants were doing. If you covered their farming/fishing/eating/whatever you couldn't've told them apart.

But the modern rooms were a real treat. There was one artist who's apparently obsessed with snarling dogs and there were all these portraits of scary mutts under yellow moons...me gusta. And there was the usual WTF? stuff like bees collecting honey from a guitar and shit like that. But the highlight was this one large piece which was apparently set in a swamp and there were several oversized frogs resting in it and staring with contempt out at the viewer. At the top, written in English, was: "Frog is Life: Frog Live!"

I think I've found another pseudo-philosophy to live by: Frog Live!

"Hurrah for Thompson!"

I finished The Brothers Karamazov last night, which is a book I highly recommend if you have a month or two to devote to reading it...no, seriously, it was really really good. In parts.

I remember as I was flying over to Korea we passed over the eastern-most stretch of Russia and I thought it was really cool to finally be in the country, even if I was at 30,000 feet or whatever. I've always been fascinated by the place, and I think when my year in Korea is up if I still want to do the wandering-teacher thing I might try to find work in Moscow or Petersburg. At this point I definitely want to use some of my savings at the end of the year to ride westward on the Trans-Siberian from Vladivostok to Moscow. And the literature has always appealed to me. Fathers & Sons is one of my favorite novels.

I can't really say the same for TBK...parts of it were enthralling...Father's Zossima's stories, especially about the encounter with the murderer, Ivan's story about Jesus returning and encountering a clergyman who denies his message, and his conversations/hallucinations with the devil. But those were small sections that were in some ways short stories within the novel, and I don't know if the exoskeleton of the narrative itself was as interesting. The climax was fun, and I wasn't really sure until the end whether Dmitri would be found guilty or innocent...but it was sort of ruined by Smerdyakov (sp?)'s confession.

And I'm not really down with all the explicit philosophical discussion. It's interesting for a bit, but I just kept thinking about that part in the Woody Allen movie Love & Death where he and Diane Keaton are having a normal conversation and then awkwardly segue into topics like phenomenology and whatnot. Not my cup of tea.

Life here marches on. Another session ended recently and report cards were due, again, but I flew through them pretty quickly and didn't sweat the small stuff. My job is becoming less and less interesting/challenging and more and more dull. This Sunday I have a meeting with a book club I've joined and I'm looking forward to that. I'm about halfway through the book we're reading for this session and it's interesting.

Ah, we went on a field trip a coupla days ago, to the 'Incheon Zoo.' The kids and I were exposed to, get this: four disinterested ducks (two of them seemed to have some sort of cancerous growth on their necks), a couple of sleepy dogs (no kidding: dogs), a pair of hungry ostriches and their turkey companion, three or four languid and sickly sheep, a bevy of exotic squirrels, about 10 million comparably aged groups of noisy schoolchildren, and the coup de grace: a cageful of irascible monkeys.

The highlight of the trip for me was when Joanne, my Korean coteacher, approached the monkeys' cage and tried to get their attention by making a face at them. One monkey, who'd probably been getting this kind of treatment all day for many days past, had had enough. He steps back a few paces from the edge of the cage and then charges at Joanne full speed. He crashed into the bars, of course, and probably fucked up his face pretty bad, but he scared the shit out of Joanne and she screamed and nearly fell down as she ran away. It was hi-lar-i-ous. She has a blog with some photos from the trip, if you want to check them out - click me!

What else...I'm thinking about joining a gym. We'll see where that goes. I'm eating like shit again, and smoking to boot...but the packs are so fucking cheap here, how can I not? 2500 won, about US $2.50...at the most. That's for the high end shit, Marlboros and whatnot. It's still pretty cold, and it's almost May, though the flowers haven't noticed and are starting to bloom. Walking around my neighborhood isn't quite as gloomy as it used to be, b/c of it. There hasn't really been any yellow dust for a while, which is nice. I guess that's it. out.

Disturbing News

I am starting to like the preschoolers. This kinda bothers me, I dunno why, but there it is. We were eating lunch today and the kids were all being quiet except for the occasional "don't speak in Korea Chan-Woo!" (they like to mimic me and I say this all the time, so they think it's hilarious to say it to one another whenever one of them slips up and starts spouting hangul) and then out of the blue Myung-Bin, this adorable little girl, asks me (straight-faced): "Wayne, are you vampire?"

"No, I am not a vampire, Myung-Bin. Now finish your soup." And I chuckled.

"You vampire!" she says with comic seriousness.

"No, I'm not," I countered, and then tried to explain how it's daylight and vampires can't walk around in the day so I couldn't possibly be one...

That didn't quite get across.

Anyway, the point is that it was a light moment and a charming one, and I seem to be having more and more of these lately. They're definitely growing on me, the munchkins. I didn't expect it to happen, but it has.

The teacher who lived in my apartment previously, Jenn, was back in town this week. She'd spent a few months traveling around SE Asia and she was passing back through to say her goodbyes and collect all her stuff. She was talking to me about how difficult it was going to be to say goodbye forever to the kids she'd been teaching for a year, and it hit me that I was already feeling the beginnings of that sort of connection. Anyway, it's too early to be thinking about leaving, I think...I just arrived. Though it's hard to believe 2 months have already passed, to be honest with you. When I first met Jenn (the day after I arrived) I remember she told me it'd be the quickest year of my life, here in Korea. Maybe she was right about that too.

Lazy Saturdays, and a correction

I'm sure my thousands of readers were in a panic when they loyally read over that last post and realized that I had linked to the wrong article. Here's an article on yellow dust:

Click me!

One of the things I like most about living in Korea is the fact that I have an actual weekend. For the past 5 years or so I was usually working on the weekends and going to school during the week (or sometimes working during the week and on the weekends). I had days off of course...too many...but it was really rare that I had a Saturday and a Sunday off sequentially. It's a refreshing taste of normality here in the land of perverse calm.

I went to the Goose Goose last night, like most Fridays. It was slow and kinda boring, and most of my crew ducked out after a coupla hours to look for a dance club. I stayed a little longer because I was sitting with this group of Koreans that Joe knew somehow. I was 'invited' to sit down when one of them came over to where I was sitting and grabbed my arm, and then dragged me over to his table. This is something Korean men do a lot, especially when they can't speak English. Strangers have poked, jabbed, prodded, grabbed, caressed and stabbed me more in the past 6/7 weeks here than in a lifetime back home. There just aren't the same restrictions about physical contact here that we have America...there's no real 'bubble' space. It can be frustrating sometimes, especially when people bump into you on the street and keep walking, oblivious, or when drunken Korean men want to communicate with you through their milfish wife who keeps caressing your leg, but...you get used to it.

About the caressing, or, petting, if you will. I've been 'petted' a lot here, usually by children but maybe once or twice by an adult. It's the arm hair. Koreans are absolutely fascinated by it. Even by western standards I'm a pretty hairy guy, and out here I'm a fucking freak. My preschool kids love to pet my arm when they think I won't notice. I'll be standing in an elevator amid a dozen or so young'uns, minding my own business, when suddenly I'll feel a gentle touch on my arm and I'll look down and Min-Ji or Hyun-Ah will be stroking my arm hair like I'm a frikkin cat.

The leg hair is even more interesting. I haven't worn shorts yet b/c it's been cold and I can't wear them to work, anyway. But one time at work while the kids were eating, I think, I had to scratch my knee or something so I pulled up my pant leg to do it. The room, which had been filled with quiet Korean chatter, fell silent. There was a gasp or two. I looked up. Mouths agape. Eyes wide. After a few moments of contemplation the kids started to whisper to each other. This is how I came to be known as 'King Kong' teacher.

At a dinner one time I was talking on this exact same subject, and pulled my pant leg up again to demonstrate. The Korean adults had the same response, only without the impolite whispering.

In other news, I read Bob Dylan's Chronicles. I brought it with me, and started it on the plane ride over here, actually, but I couldn't really get into it. I guess I had other things on my mind then. But it's an amazing book. The other night I picked it up and I was finished the next day. I'm a complete Dylan homer, I think he's a genius, so you can't really trust me to be bias-less, here, but...it was really good. I'm still trying to finish The Brothers Karamazov. I'm about 3/4 through, but it's not exactly a light read.

Life continues.

황사

The title means 'Hwang-sa' or Yellow Dust. That's right, bitches, I'm learning 한글 (hangul - that's Korean for all you waygouk). Anyway, I wouldn't say I'm 'learning' in the sense that I'm going to a class, listening to lesson tapes, or some shit like that. I just mean that when I'm bored at school during my planning time I look stuff up in the dictionary and try to make sense of the alphabet. It's actually not that hard once you get a decent grip on what the alphabet means and how it works.

Anyway, about the yellow dust...here's a wikipedia article about what it is. We had a bad storm on Saturday, and we were supposed to have one yesterday, though I didn't really see it. But I've been feeling it. A few weeks ago we had one that lasted a few days, and I was sick for a fortnight... This latest attack has got me feeling bad again. Basically when you breathe in that much crap something bad is going to happen, and I've got the beginnings of what could be another bad cold. To make things worse I've been into Seoul three days straight and the pollution is worse there than it is in Incheon, so that didn't help. And besides, the air is so fricking dry here I wake up every morning with a nose full of boogers so hard they could probably be the cornerstones of these flimsy Korean apartment buildings that go up so fast... That doesn't help things.

I've been going in and out of Seoul, not because I've spontaneously developed a demanding social life, but because I've been trying to round up some books that I want. I joined a book club here, and the next thing we're reading is something called Quarantine, by Jim Crace. It looks interesting. I wanted that and Lonely Planet's guidebook to Korea. Well, long story short, the really cool used-book store in Seoul (http://www.whatthebook.com) keeps small town hours (it closes at 8 - maybe b/c it's on the upslope of Hooker Hill in Itaewon and going up there at night can be a bit trying...unless you want to get laid easily and have 100,000 won to spare) -found that out on Monday-, the enormous Kyobo bookstore in downtown Seoul didn't have what I wanted -found that out yesterday-, but tonight I high-tailed it outta work when the whistle blew and made it to Itaewon by 7:30. I dunno if I really kept that short...

Work continues. Young Hyun burst into tears 2 hours into class today. He was doing fine this morning, but then his mom showed up and he caught a glimpse of her and when we returned to class it was more than he could take. I found out later she was there to talk with Joanne (my Korean co-teacher) and to pick up YH to take him to a 'mental hospital,' to use the parlance of our setting. That's what Joanne said...I think she meant psychiatrist. Anyway, seriously, this is good news. The boy needs help. Not being sarcastic at all...he needs help.

I met his mom briefly. She had a painted face and a plastic smile. It explained a lot. Later in the afternoon a nice bouquet of flowers was delivered to Joanne, from YH's mom. Maybe it was meant for me, too, but I doubt it...at least she knows what a pain her son is.

Not much more to say, so I'll leave you with a picture of a yellow dust cloud hovering near the 63 building in Seoul.

Millions

Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I made my first million today. Almost two million, actually. That's right bitches, I've got almost 2 million won in my pocket (figuratively speaking...please don't rob me).

Time for a spending spree!

No, but seriously...having money rocks. I can buy things I need, heck, I can even buy things I just plain want. I don't have to eat PBJ sandwiches made with moldy bread that's been in my fridge for weeks. I can afford cheeseburgers! And the good kind of kimbap! Fuck yeah.

Anyway...that's all there is.

Oh, I had another peeer today. Do you think I spelled that right? Anyway, I handled the incident with my usual deft aplomb, I knew right where the mop was this time, I knew to wait to let her finish before escorting her to the changing room, yadda yadda. I could handle a whole class of peeers, I think, fuck it open the floodgates if you want I'm ready for that shit. That's the one thing though...please god no shitters. I can handle piss, but god help me if one of the pre-bies shits him/herself. I DO NOT want to deal with that. But these kids are 6 and 7 fucking years old, anyway, they shouldn't be peeing themselves...maybe there's something fucked up about Korean bladders, maybe I scare the munchkins, hell, I don't know...actually, I do know that I scare them sometimes.

Have I talked about Young Hyun? Young Hyun is an emotionally fragile boy in Horse class who will burst into tears if you don't handle him right. I think his ilk inspired the phrase 'kid gloves...' anyway he's either full of energy and hard to control or he's completely losing it and bawling like a shorn sheep. It's really hard to deal with him because sometimes he'll do something fucked up, like throw a pencil at me or something, but if I get too pissed then I scare the shit out of him and he starts crying like a baby. Anyway, I like him, and he's just a kid so I don't want to read too much into it, but this kid is gonna have problems down the road. But then, who isn't?

My co-teacher talks a lot about how she hates the needy kids, and at first I thought she was being a bit callous but more and more I see how right she is. I love the independant kids, the ones who know what to do without being told 20 fucking times and who don't come pulling on your shirt every time Jin-Kyung bumps into them w/o apologizing...ugh.

Are personalities pretty much defined at this age? I dunno. But it seems like you can tell pretty well where the kids are gonna wind up...

Anyway, how did I wind up talking about this shit? I'm off to count my millions...

This post may be eclectic

I don't really have an interesting story to tell (not that I ever do), or something bizarre/troubling to report, these are just a few things that popped into my mind a coupla minutes ago before I sat down here and which I thought were blog-worthy.

Jason (my boss, my enemy [not really...but there's some antagonism going on...maybe it's b/c I have to fight him to get the power turned on in my apartment]) took me, AJ, and Drew to go sign up for our Alien Registration Card today. I just call it the 'alien card' coz it sounds cooler. Anyway, nothing exciting to report there, but on the way back I saw a billboard on the side of the highway which asked 'Are you gentle?' Whaddya think they were selling?

a)hand lotion
b)Singapore Airlines
c)a new SUV called the Gentra
d)a new slot-casino place

Answer at the end.

Today was Thursday, which meant I only had two afternoon classes. My later class only has five kids in it, and they're at about the 2nd or 3rd grade age back home. They're reasonably communicative but 3 of the 5 are pretty dang shy and things can be a bit rough. Anyway, when I came into class today the talkative pair were still chirping about what we did last session, on Tuesday.

Tuesday was supposed to be what we at SLP call a 'Storybook day,' which I think if you translate into 'Korea' (as everyone here says) means something like '40 minutes of bullshitting.' Anyway basically we (I) read a story for the class period and ask the kids questions about it, come up with games to play, yadda yadda.

Well on Tuesday I went up to class and thought I was prepared with the right book, and then realized as I walked through the door that I had grabbed the wrong thing. The owners and administrators frown on us leaving the classroom after we've entered and the cameras that monitor us make me inclined to obey, so I didn't want to go back downstairs and search for the right thing.

'Ok,' I thought. 'I'll just come up with something better, where the kids can use their own imagination and learn a little English.'

Bad idea.

You see, I asked the kids to write a story about a picture that was in their book. The pic was of a bunch of white kids swimming in the pool. I asked my bunch to imagine that there was something dangerous lurking underneath the water like an alligator or a dinosaur, and to write their own story about what would happen.

The three dummies had no fucking clue what I was asking, but the other two came up with reasonably decent stories, although they copied from one another a lot. I'll reprint the better one here, and also the story that I wrote to try and demonstrate to the kids what I wanted them to do. First, Jung-Won's story:

the wayne swem in pool the alligator fight the wayne wayne win alligator sad Jung-Won fight the wayne and win wayne mother fight the Jung-Won and the Jung-Won win and mother sad Jung-Won king!

Pretty compelling stuff, right? Michael Crichton, watch your back. My story:

Wayne was swimming in the pool and he saw an alligator eating Kahn-Young. Wayne fought the alligator and killed it but Kahn-Young was already dead. Then Jung-Won wanted to fight Wayne and they did. Wayne won, and Jung-Won cried like a baby. Then Wayne won the lottery and married Miss America. The End.

What else, what else...

I am running seriously low on funds, but payday is Monday.

I got my first package from back home last week. It was filled with homemade cookies, deodorant, and a coupla hats. Thanx, mom + dad.

I filled out report cards for the first time last week. It was nice and empowering to be on the other end of that experience, though I still couldn't say all that I wanted...SLP wants us to shy away from the 'your daughter is a complete and utter cunt who'll never amount to shit' kind of comments.

Someone pointed out to me where a dog restaurant is near my school. I'm gonna definitely try and hit that up soon. The Korean woman who told me about it was shocked when I said I wanted to try it, but it's like...I didn't come this far to NOT do new things. BTW, what did I have for dinner tonight? Something from McDonald's...

Answer:C

The Way to Heaven

Scene: A blustery Incheon sidewalk. Empty coffee cups and discarded flyers dance across the stage. A car honks its horn in the distance. Two Korean men in medical pajamas, one of them also wearing a back brace, smoke cigarettes in the alley between two buildings.

Enter Stage Left: our hero, Wayne. A youngish, curly haired, pensive, and rotund lad from America. He is lost in thought far away, as if he'd just returned home on his break to find out that the electricity in his apartment was still off and now he has to confront his boss about why the fuck he hasn't paid the bill yet and taken care of this. He is walking quickly.

Enter Stage Right: An elderly Korean couple, probably in their 60s or 70s. The man is smiling perversely and carrying a leather bound Korean bible. The woman walks a little bit behind him and nods at whatever he says.

The three meet.

Korean Man: Hello? Hello? Anesayo?

Wayne: Yes? Yes, hello.

KM: Excuse me...are you...Christian?

Wayne: Yes, yes, I am a Christian, yes...I am Christian.

<KM extends his hand, and the two shake hands conventionally, but at the last second when the embrace would normally end the Korean man grabs hold of Wayne's thumb for a few seconds too long>

Wayne: <twisting away from the man> I'm sorry, but I-

KM: Do you know the way to heaven?

Wayne: I'm sorry, but I have to get to work...

KM: Do you know the way to heaven?

Wayne: Yes...I am Christian...but I have to go to work...

>Exit Stage Right

You Got To Have Powaaa!

There's this part in Back to the Future II that Lee and I always thought was funny, where MJ Fox is trying to get his hoverboard to slide across the water and the battery dies or something, and one of Biff's gang, this Asian guy living in the far distant future (was it 2005 or 2015? I can't remember) and who's decked out in a helmet and a flashy jacket and all that jazz yells at his would-be prey: "You got to have powaaa!" in a really funny Asian accent.

I was reminded of that scene when I came home today.

No power.

Fuck.

The delightful soul who lived in my apartment before I arrived wasn't a big fan of things like, oh, I dunno...paying bills. So since I've arrived I've received several stern-looking letters with Korean versions of 'past due' and 'delinquent' written all over them. Everytime I get one I just pass it on to my boss, Jason, and hope he takes care of it. Well, apparently he didn't...

Jason assured me earlier tonight, when I called him from a pay phone in front of Wal-mart, that the power would be back on tomorrow morning or tomorrow night, at the latest...of course there's a problem with that, you see, I still have to deal with to-night, b/c, you know, it's not yet tomorrow night...nice.

Whatever. I can deal...and I slept a coupla nights sans power when I first arrived, anyway. I have Jenn to thank for that, too, btw. And the hot water worked then, so I was still able to take a shower.

I guess I'm just glad I brought a battery powered alarm clock with, or, well, maybe not. At least then I'd have an excuse for oversleeping manana...

Korean Candor

Koreans can be refreshingly/disturbingly candid about a stranger's physical appearance...I knew that already, but had it reinforced today.

One of my co-teachers said that she had been called 'the ugly teacher' today by one of her kids, and I'm not sure but I think I may've gotten that once before myself...it's hard to tell sometimes what the kids are saying b/c of their accents...'ugly' could just as easily be 'angry' or 'crazy' (one of their favorite words b/c it's a curse word here in ROK) or a million other things. She didn't seem to care, and that's the right attitude to take.

My honor's kids love the fat jokes, and I don't really mind b/c it's not like it's a revelation to me, and I even encourage it sometimes, but if my skin wasn't kinda thick already (from all the fat, natch) it could get old, fast. Today we were talking about the innumerable ways in which a pencil is different from an eraser, and we were doing a Venn diagram on the board.

One of the smarter kids chimed in with the fact that pencils are 'not fat' (he later was introduced to the term 'thin') and that erasers are. I wrote 'thin' on one side of the diagram and then wrote under erasers on the other: 'fat like Wayne teacher.' They got a kick out of that.

But anyway as I was leaving class I said my usual 'goodbye munchkins' and the ones that like me said something to the same effect, and then as I was opening the door to walk out June-Sung, probably the brightest kid in the class, says 'Goodbye fat man.'

I did a double take, froze in my tracks, chuckled and then turned to him and tried to communicate that that wasn't the politest thing to say, all self-effacing and our congenial relationship aside. I'm not sure if it got through, but, well, welcome to Korea, baby, or rather: 'Fat Man.'

So, what's an average day at SLP like?

Tuesday, March 21st:

9:30 (that's AM, folx) - I arrive and start trying to put together the shit I'll need to teach my pre-schoolers.

9:40 - Sophia, one of my fellow teachers and the sort of 'pit boss' of our crew tells me that Joanne-teacher, my co-teacher, won't be here today b/c she's sick. One of the experienced afternoon teachers, Joey, will fill in.

10:00 - I go upstairs and try to lasso a bunch of little crazy gremlins and get them to change theirs shoes, put their bookbags away, and sit in their seats.

10:10 - I'm halfway through the ridiculous morning song/'warm up' routine, in which I and one of the kids leads the rest of the class in a mostly mumbled rendition of various kids' songs. If video of this ever surfaces I may have to move away from civilization.

10:30 - I escort the kids, in a semi-line, to the bathroom for the first of what will be many bathroom breaks during the day. We do this like every half hour, for four hours, seriously.

10:45 - I realize that the struggle to teach the kids how to act out a scene and introduce their friends with the complex phrase "Hi, this is Myung bin," has been in vain.

11:00 - 11:25 - Break Time! Fuck yeah! The kids get to play for a bit.

11:15: I'm watching my class as well as Joey's b/c he has to go get some material ready. Yoon Hee rushes out to me in the hall, gives me a pathetic and desperate look, and then proceeds to pee all over the fucking place. Shit no! At first I start to walk her towards the bathroom, but that's quite a hike and she's dripping the stuff everywhere, so I let her finish, then we stroll over. I leave here there and grab a mop to go clean up.

11:45: My kids definitely know the difference between p/q, b/d, m/n, etc. So how to spend the remaining 10 minutes of Activity time?

11:55 - 12:40 - Lunch/play time. Fuck yeah!

12:40 - 1:10 - I repeat the same boring activity, but in Horse (Joanne's) class. These kids are pretty dumb and they're all riled up after lunch, so it takes a good bit before I get some response on the b/d question...

1:10 - 1:40 - Instead of story time today we have a birthday party! Fuck yeah! It's graham crackers and tangerines for everyone, plus a pretty sweet chocolate cake with these kiwis on top...nice.

1:40 - 2:00 - I try to clean up after the munchkins, get them to put their shoes, coats, and bags on, and of course I forget to do the wrap-up (summary) for the umpteenth time in a row. Then I escort them downstairs where they line up to board their bus and also to run around, kick and punch each other, and scream at the top of their lungs.

2:10 - 3:40 - I spend 10 minutes prepping for my afternoon classes, walk down to the corner Tostore with AJ and get something to eat, then spend the remaining hour or so figuratively twiddling my thumbs.

3:40 - 4:20 - My honor's 2.1 course. For level two these kids are fucking Einsteins. But they can also be little bitches, too, and today I'm being observed by Julia, one of my bosses. The lesson today's not that interesting, either, I mean you can only talk so long about the different kinds of clothes you wear in the different seasons. I thought I did pretty good based on what I had to teach, and Julia did too thankfully...she said to me later "It seems...you are, very patient teacher." I didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or not, so I did...but maybe I do put up with too much shit from the brats. You gotta slap em around (figuratively speaking) every now and then or they won't be afraid of the hammer coming down sometime. Something to work on, I guess...

4:20 - 5:00 - A regular level 2 class, with only 5 students, but it's still a bear to teach. These kids are soooooo dumb and soooooo afraid to talk...the only two who do pipe up like to fight with each other, too...but today it went ok. We played a game, they were happy, I was happy b/c things went a little more quickly...

5:00 - 5:50 - I spend 15 minutes planning preschool for tomorrow and then dick around on the computer, stare at the wall, or count the hairs on my arm...anything to pass the time.

5:50 - Quitting time! Fuck yeah!

The Japan Visa Run

Well I did the Japan visa run this past Thursday & Friday, and I actually made it back with everything I needed, didn't really get lost on the way, and didn't lose anything valuable. Maybe optimism IS the way to go.

I wasn't feeling too optimistic when I boarded an overheated bus early Thursday morning which I hoped was bound for Incheon airport. Of the four teachers at SLP who'll be doing the visa run, I was the first to go, so I had only the reticent Jim and a packet of documents/instructions to guide me from my little corner of Bucheon all the way over to the Korean embassy, excuse me, consulate in Osaka. The SLP 'guide to the visa run' seemed to tell me everything I needed, and Jim was full of his usual soft-spoken and world-weary advice on the day before I left (example: "don't get in the taxis unless you absolutely have to. The first thing Japanese taxi drivers do is lock you in and put 5,000 yen up on the meter (that's about 45 US greenbacks)." <--actually that was good advice, I didn't get into a taxi in Japan but from what I could tell by observing others, what Jim said was true), so I had some reason to feel like I might pull it off Thursday morning when I hopped on the old 302.

But I had a feeling something would go terribly wrong, and I'd wind up in Singapore or something and have to pay for a ticket back. But nothing like that happened. The 302 dropped me off at Incheon just as planned, I got on the right plane, and when I got to Osaka it was reasonably easy for an English speaking gaijin (I think that's the right word) to navigate around.

All of the Japanese people I met/asked for help were very kind and knowledgable, which is a good combination, and with their assistance and the aid of a couple of maps I found the train which took me downtown, and the Korean consulate, without a problem.

Finding the hotel was a bit tougher, you see, a lot of the part of Osaka where I stayed is criss-crossed with these narrow one-way 'streets' (actually they're more like alleys). There are a few large thoroughfares but these little one way backroads dominate the landscape...I didn't realize this going in, and based on the brochure the SLP people gave me I was sure the hotel would be on a large city street...it wasn't, and so I got a bit confused and even briefly lost. But I eventually got there and everything was ok, and after I got settled in I set out to explore.

Unfortunately it was raining, which made night-time walking a bit of a hassle, and I of course didn't know a soul in the city, so I didn't stay out late. I did have dinner at this little cafe and was served some sort of spicy meatball dish with mustard on the side which was really good...I don't know if it was worth 900 yen, but it was good.

The next morning the sky had cleared and I wasn't due at the embassy until 1:30, so I set out pretty early with big plans explore the city. I saw a lot...I guess, though I didn't see what I wanted to...what I mean is that I meandered up and down these aforementioned alley-streets for hours, without really taking much in even though I passed by a lot. There was just so much, and I didn't have much time. The few sights that I did set out for, the Sony building and the Art Museum, well, I got mixed results. The Sony building was this white, futuristic, seemingly-windowless building that was cool enough to look at, I guess. The art museum I know I got close to, but I couldn't find an entrance, and so that was a bust. I saw the 'Namba Walk' which is this enormous underground shopping mall that seemed to stretch for miles...but I wasn't really interested in shopping for clothes and everything was so damn expensive, anyway.

I don't really know how to effectively communicate all the shit I saw, so as I did with an earlier post, I'll just go through some of the notes I took down in my nerd-notebook I carry around with me.

"8 minute walk" - the hotel brochure said the hotel was this far from the nearest subway station. I just thought it was representative of a different mindset out here...

'Smoking areas/vending machines' - smoking's as big in Japan as it is in Korea, maybe bigger.

'Street walking on left' - in Japan they drive on the wrong side of the road, just like the Brits, and as a consequence they tend to walk on the wrong side, too. I noticed while walking that I kept running into crowds of people on the right side of the sidewalks, and realized why. When I shifted to the other side things went a lot more smoothly...

'2x the cost' - shit is fucking expensive in Japan. The aforementioned plate of meatballs, which was far from filling, cost 8 or 9 bucks, and later that night when I ordered room service (score!) to fill my fat ass up, it was another 12. Oh, and the food sucked, of course...

'ALL the women are gorgeous and whores' - probably the best part about walking down the street in Osaka was the eye candy. I think maybe b/c I was hanging out in a rich section that I had access to more high class scenery than, say, on a farm in Hokkaido or whatever...or maybe Japanese women are just all beautiful. I only saw one fatty, and dare I say it? I woulda hit that. And to top it off, they all where short skirts and low cut blouses in the middle of fucking winter. You see that in Korea sometimes, but everyone in Osaka was wearing that sort of outfit.

'completely Wester - uber-Western' - I didn't feel like I was in the 'East' at all...I mean it felt just like New York or Chicago, only the people looked a little different and the architecture was different. I don't know if that's a revelation for you, dear reader, but Japan is definitely part of the West...or at least downtown Osaka is.

'ABC stores sell shoes' - I kept seeing these signs for 'ABC Shop' and of course if you're from where I'm from you know what that meant to me...actually they sell shoes. Not that liquor was that hard to find, if you wanted it.

'Bon Jovi look' - apparently the hip look for Japanese teens is to channel Bon Jovi circa 1985 with the shaggy red hair. I musta seen hundreds of these guys...things went from funny to pathetic pretty quickly.

'people still stare but there are no little girls saying "hi!"' - when I walk down the street in Korea I'm quite the spectacle...it was basically the same thing in Osaka, but people only looked, they didn't speak. Of course I wasn't there very long, maybe if I'da stayed longer I would've heard those little 'hi!s' that I get here all the time.

'McDonald's everywhere' - seriously, everywhere. I also saw a coupla KFCs.

Oh yeah, one more thing. On the second day, after I'd picked up my visa and finalized all the paperwork to make me legal in Korea for a year, as I stepped outside the consulate the wind picked up. I started down the stairs that lead back to the street, and as I was descending the giant Korean flag in front of the building got caught in the wind and was blown over towards me. Before I could do anything about it, the flag had wrapped itself around my head, and I had a humiliating moment or two as I un-furled myself from it. Dare I say it? Another of God's little jokes.

For good or ill, it's official: I'm caught up in Korea for a year. More soon, I hope.

More From Korea

It's Quiz Time, kids!

1)When you order a pizza in Korea, what gets served with it on the side?
a)kimchi
b)sweet pickles
c)cocktail onions
d)a smaller pizza

2) "Goose Goose" is
a)an expression meaning "unwelcome foreigner"
b)a bar
c)meat served on sticks which is sold on the street
d)the name of one of my students

3)There is a TV channel devoted to...
a)Chinese Checkers
b)cheap porn
c)Korean televangelists
d)all of the above

The answers are forthcoming, but if you're dying to know I guess I'll put them in at the end.

My first week here has gone pretty well. My plane touched down at Incheon Airport about this time 1 week ago, and certainly I feel a lot better now than I did then. As I wrote before, the first couple of days were pretty crappy...I was still suffering through my jetlag, everything at work seemed baffling and overwhelming, and I didn't really know anyone. But all that has changed, for the better.

The first day of classes was Thursday, and it was not fun. The preschoolers are just horrible, they have at best a minimal understanding of English and of course they're more interested in playing or talking to one another in Korean than listening to me. But it has to get better, right? And besides, as one of the other teachers told me, for them we're basically just babysitting for a few hours and hoping that some of what we do gets through to them...the theory is that just some exposure to English will be good for them.

But my afternoon kids, for the most part, are just great. Maybe it's b/c I contrast them with the morning brats but for whatever reason I actually look forward to seeing them. It's just getting through the morning that's tough.

Ever since I've arrived I've been scribbling down in a notebook these things that strike me as comment-worthy, and here's what I've got so far:

"Bizarre red crosses everywhere" - there are apparently a goodly amount of Christians out here, and I remember on the ride from the airport last week that as I looked down into the valley I saw dozens of these glowing red crosses jutting up into the sky...for whatever reason Koreans keep the crosses illuminated and don't realize how tacky it looks...whatever, it's their country.

"bad drivers" - maybe I'm seeing it b/c I expected it, but no one here knows how to drive. You have to be really careful when you're crossing the street.

"smells in the hall" - I remember as I walked to my hotel room the first night I was here I was suddenly overcome by this incredibly strong and pungent odor coming from one of the rooms. Korean food stinks, or, well, it can stink, and I've crossed into these pockets of poison many times since I've been here...but what compounds the problem is the Korean system of ordering deliveries, which works the same way in America except there's a pick up service the next day, so after the person has finished their kimchi or whatever they put the bowls outside of their room in the hall. This compounds the problem.

"highways are still highways" - my apartment overlooks a freeway and every morning when I walk to the window to look out I'm greeted by a traffic jam. It's nice to know there's traffic everywhere, I guess.

"kids are still kids" - before I left a lot of people made comments about how Asian kids are better behaved than their American counterparts...complete and utter bullshit. If anything they're worse - I've never had an American kid say "I hope you die" to me, for example.

"woman's voice on elevators" - there's this one woman's voice who's constantly talking to you when you're on the elevator. She says "mushi mushi mush" or whatever very reassuringly over and over...it's weird.

"everyone is well traveled but me" - everyone I meet regales me of their trips to Mexico, Australi, S Africa, whatever, and I feel like a loser when I have to say New York and Chicago are as far away as I've been from home...but you have to start somewhere, I guess.

"a country w/o deoderant" - Koreans don't sweat. Ever. Never ever. And they don't get cold, either, but that's beside the point...they're like robots...but anyway, not sweating and not getting overheated means you don't need things like deoderant, right? So when I run out of the stick and a half I brought with me I'm fucked, b/c one of the teachers assured me I couldn't get any in the whole country...I guess I'll have to have it shipped from home.

"staring at me" - This is starting to get old. When I'm walking with other people, it doesn't happen, but when I'm alone on the street everyone has to look at me, and some people are downright gawkers. You'd think they'd never seen a roundeye before...like I said it's getting annoying.

"Kimchi everywhere. everywhere." - One week and I've already had enough kimchi for a lifetime. They serve it at every fucking meal, and I always try to eat it for some reason, I guess I think the locals will like me more if I do, whatever, but it is always disgusting...no mas, por favor.

"Worst couch ever." - I thought my old couch sucked, Christ, I'd give anything to have couch dread here in Korea. The one in my apartment has a bar sticking out from the back cushions and it makes sitting a living nightmare...it's about as comfortable as sitting on coals.

"Achilles' pain"- no, I don't mean the pain of being far from home, I'm talking about my Achilles heel(s), which were both scraped and cut and abused during my day of travel by a new pair of shoes that don't fit and caused extreme pain...and ever since that happened the wounds on the back of my feet have yet to heal, and they hurt everytime I take a step...yeah, it sucks, but what can you do? You wait for it to heal.

Alright, that's about it for the latest dispatch from Bucheon...my eyes are starting to get dry and I feel myself becoming less and less coherent...

Answers: B,B,D

First Impressions of Korea

Wow, what a week.

I'm writing from one of the thousand or so PC cafes that litter the landscape of the city where I live here. You seriously cannot go a block without seeing one...they're everywhere, but here people use them mostly to play World of Warcraft or whatever...I'm gonna try to use this one to record my thoughts on an incredible week.

Well, I left Raleigh Friday morning, and, well...the flight was hell. I was dreading the actual flight more than the transition from home to here, the struggles with a new job and with meeting new people, and with all the other shit that comes up when you move...and I was justified in that dread. It was absolutely horrible. The first leg of the flight up to Detroit was ok, I was a little cramped but the AC worked and I had a window seat so I could deal. And when I got to the airport there I didn't have any trouble moving around, getting something to eat, and boarding my next flight like I feared I might. But then the real shit began.

The middle portion of my trip was scheduled to last 14 hours, and to the credit of Northwest Airlines it and all of my other connecting flights were on time...but efficient or not 14 hours in a hot, smelly tube with ~400 or other pissed off and tired people is not going to be fun. For starters, my seat sucked, it was a B which means it was on the port side of the plane in the middle of two other seats. To my right was an incoherent, drunk, and sleepy Japanese man and to my left was a taciturn and immovable woman who also slept most of the trip, often with her feet propped up on mine. I didn't really bring anything to read and what I had I couldn't get into, so for most of the flight I either a)stared straight ahead into space and tried to avoid thoughts of suicide or b)watched the in-flight movies, which were - The Mask of Zorro, Yours, Mine, and Ours, and some other shitty movie. Now, you might be asking, why not just get hammered and go to sleep? I had every intention of doing so, and the guy with whom I'd spoken before I left for Korea, who was/is a fellow teacher at my school, assured me that international flights served booze for free. But for NW...this doesn't apply, and I sure as shit wasn't going to pay 5$/can for some crappy Japanese beer. And to top it off I've never been able to sleep just laying on my back, and since I was between two other people I couldn't lean to one side or the other, and for 14 hours I didn't get a single second of sleep.

By the time we touched down in Tokyo I was dead, but the excitement of being so far away from home in such a (relatively) exotic locale revived me, somewhat, and I was successfully able to navigate through the Tokyo airport and board the last portion of my flight.

The last portion was far and away the best, I slept for most of my trip, the food and beverages didn't suck, and I was comfortable. So when we touched down in Incheon I was feeling pretty good.

Of course, I still didn't know if the bags I'd checked back in Raleigh had traveled with me all the way to Korea, I didn't really know how I was going to get through customs and immigration, and all I knew about who I was meeting at the airport was that his name was Jae Sung and that he'd find me, not the other way around.

Well, my bags came through, thank God, and though passing through immigration and customs was time consuming, it wasn't too much of a hassle. But then I was directed to this sort of loading zone outside of the customs area, where all the other Koreans were heading, and so toting three pretty heavy bags I lumbered outside into a flood of people.

Obviously I didn't know a s(e)oul. There were plenty of folks holding signs which read things like "Jason Chan" or "Michael Wilson" or whatever but there weren't any with my name on it. After I'd traipsed up and down the line of people I paused for a moment to get my bearings, and just a second or two later I met my first cabbie. I didn't know who he was at first, and he was very helpful, and I thought he might be Jason, but it soon became clear he didn't know who I was and he wasn't from the school. I know now that he just wanted to give me a ride to Bucheon, where I'd be living, b/c Americans are apparently the only ones who tip out here and of course he could use the fare...but at the time I thought he and all the succeeding cabbies that accosted me there had more sinister intentions...Lee's joking comment about the "white slave trade" didn't seem quite as amusing anymore.

But eventually I met Jason. I was again skeptical and asked a lot of annoying questions, I'm sure, but after he pulled out my itinerary and introduced himself so I could understand through the accent I knew he was the guy, and we left.

The trip to the hotel where I'd be staying that night was fairly short and peaceful, the only harrowing moments were the coupla times Jason tried to go the wrong way down one way streets (I kept the comments floating through my head about a nation filled with Asian drivers to myself). Jason told me everything I needed to know about my situation and he told me that since the girl who had been using my room wasn't leaving until the next day that he'd be putting me up in a hotel for the night.

And what a hotel! It's probably the nicest I've stayed in, and certainly is the nicest I've stayed in by myself (I stayed in one in Atlantic City with LBJ a while back that was really cool). The mattress was as hard as a rock, but I slept fine...after staying up an hour or so to watch the shitty porn on Channel 2. The engrish in the brochure was a fun icebreaker, too, let me quote:

"Morning furnitures in your room is not allowed." WTF is morning furniture?

"Please keep away our child from playing in labby." And so on...

The next morning Jason picked me up and drove me across the street, basically, to my new apartment building. The teacher who was vacating, Jen, was still there and cleaning up when we arrived...to be honest she didn't exactly finish the job, and my apartment is still pretty dirty, but hell, I'm used to living in my own filth so why not someone else's? That day, that day...let's see, that was Sunday, yeah, Sunday night I met Joey, the guy I'd spoken with over the phone.

He and his girlfriend/boss Sophia (that's her Korean name - she's my boss too, btw) took me out to this OK spaghetti place in a mall somewhere and then to a bar near her apartment. They were both pretty cool people and they put me at ease.

The next day, Monday, after a fairly sleepless night due to jetlag, I went in for 'training.' I used the quotations b/c, well, it seems like at SLP they don't really understand that it's best if you train the teachers to do their job before you force them to teach. On Monday morning one of my new co-workers, James, this middle-aged guy from Canada who's been here for 10 years and at SLP for 8, walked me through the SLP manual. I honestly don't remember much of what we discussed, I was so out of it...but it didn't matter b/c by that afternoon I was teaching my first class.

When Julia, my boss' boss, came to me that day and asked if I could cover a class that afternoon I was surprisingly non-plussed. I'm still not sure I can describe it, but maybe I just have had a 'fuck it' attitude about this whole experience...what I mean is, my thinking is something like "Fuck it, I've come this far, how much harder can it be?" And it really wasn't that hard and in fact my first class that afternoon went really well. I just wish they could all be like that one...

Gosh, there's so much more to post about this past week but it's gonna have to wait. With the promise of more to come, I bid my fair readers adieu...

"One more weekend..."

Maybe all of my titles will be quotes from Dylan from now on, who can say?

Wow. My last weekend at Roadrunners. Looking back, I see years and years of Friday and Saturday nights in servitude to the man, eschewing any ambition of a normal-time social-life for the hit-and-miss life of the pizza tip, looking forward, I see a murky somethingness across the seas in Incheon which despite its ambiguity seems certain not to involve working till midnight on the weekends. What will I do with all my free time, what will it be like to have an actual weekend? Christ, I dunno...

Friday night was pretty busy but I got caught in a rut and kept getting the crappy runs. It started off reasonably well, my first delivery was to this gremlin sized guy at 410 Ranch Farm (why bother blacking out the street names? it's not like this guy reads blogs...). He always tips, and sometimes he tips well (when he's drunk) but it was still too early in the day when I got there so he only gave me 2 bucks. What was remarkable about the trip was that he had two of his buddies over with him, and one of them was this guy I'd encountered before.

I can't remember if I saw this guy at the same address, or if I saw him at his own home or somewhere else, but I'd definitely seen him before. I didn't recognize him when I looked at him, but my memory was jogged when he said to me what he'd said before:

"You got any red pepper in yow car there, boy?"

Like I said I can't remember where I've seen him, but I remember being asked this question several times over the last year or so, and it was always this jackass doing the questioning. Now, you may be thinking that that's a reasonable enough question (even though it isn't - c'mon, it's not like we delivery drivers carry around gobs of pepper and parmesan just in case someone asks for it, it's not prudent) but what makes this guy a "major league asshole," to quote the president I believe, is that he's asked me several times before and every time I respond in the negative, and when I do so he gets downright indignant with me.

On Friday he asked about the pepper and I said no, then he asks: "you got any parmesan cheese in dere?"

Seeing that this could be the beginning of an endless sequence of questions about what I do or do not carry around in my Corolla I cut him off and said "no, I've got nothing in there."

He grunted in disgust and walked away while his height-challenged friend paid me. But as I was leaving I had to pass by him and the 3rd friend and he half-grunted/half-articulated some sort of sentence that was ostensibly directed at his pal but was really directed towards me, something like "Grunt dang dern peppers in dang ol car dere, parmesan grunt grunt in the car grunt grunt dang grunt."

I just ignored him until I reached my car, but by the end there it was obvious he was trying to get a response from me because his tone kept on elevating as he approached the end of the sentence like you do when you're not sure if you want to mumble something or scream it, and then you decide halfway through...I opened the door, stood in the partition between it and the opening it created, and sized him up.

I knew I could take him if it came to that, and though a physical confrontation wasn't really something on the ol conscious-radar when guys get into confrontations that's the first thing we consider, whether we realize it or not. I also knew that it was one of my last days at work, and fuck it, I could be disrespectful to this fucking prick if I wanted to be. And maybe waynepast would have been, waynepast might have said something like "Dude if you don't shut the fuck up about the fucking red pepper I'm gonna rip that goddamn hick mustache off your face and feed it to you," but waynepresent, or, to be more accurate, wayne near-past is more mature than that, and he said only (with just a hint of sarcasm) "thanks for the advice, I'll take it under advisement" and drove away.

Another interesting delivery that night was when I went to this mailb0x-less trailer park where it's always hard to figure out which house is which. A lot of times in places like this you just have to do your best and guess, and pull in and out of driveways with your brights on until you spot the numbers on the door...and sometimes when there are no numbers you just pick one and knock on the door. Anyway on Friday I get there and I was actually talking on my cell as I pulled onto the street, and so I drove up and down it one time looking for the number, but I didn't see anything. As I was coming back up the street again I notice that there's a guy outside and he seems to be looking at me. I ended my call and stopped in front of his yard, rolled down my window, and asked him if he ordered the pizza.

He considered it for a moment and then said that no, he had not. "Oh," I said, "well then are you number 9? I'm looking for number 11 and maybe that's your neighbor." The guy considered that question for another moment and then said "I don't know...I had a stroke."

"Oh, OK," I said and got back in the car. Now, I'm not one to make fun of stroke victims...my dad had a stroke about 10 years ago and I know how difficult they can be. But for whatever reason his answer amused me...I guess it's what he says whenever he gets befuddled...but seriously dude, you need to re-learn what your address is.

Saturday night was slow and dull and I can't think of any stories that could even be slightly interesting...of course if you've read to this point you may think that was true of Friday night, as well...all that's left is Sunday to complete the final weekend trifecta for me at Roadrunner's, and though I can't know for certain I'm gonna go out on a limb and predict more tedium. To quote another musician: "I could be wrong, but I'm not."

To Quote Dylan: "Things Have Changed..."

Wow, a lot has happened in the last few days.

On Friday I finally got my diploma from UNC, which for whatever reason does not have them ready for the December grads when they graduate.

I emailed the Korean recruiter I'd been working with and let her know I now actually had my physical diploma and could prove that I had my degree with more than just a transcript...I did this on Sunday I believe.

Monday, last night, she calls me and says she has a position lined up for me in Incheon, which is a large city (mid-sized, by their standards) just to the South of Seoul. Think Philadelphia:New York::Incheon:Seoul. She says all I need to do is speak briefly with the principal at the school and with this guy named Joey, who is another English teacher and who's been in Korea for a few months after likewise being recruited by the same person. I did so, liked what I heard, and accepted the position.

Today, this morning, I received the contract via email, looked over it and talked about it with my recruiter, and signed it. Tomorrow or the next day, after I've got all my shit squared away, I'll send it off to Incheon.

Next Friday, the 24th of February, if all goes as planned, I'll board a plane and head off to the other side of the world...where I'll land in the famous and architecturally interesting Incheon airport, featured above.

Holy Shit I Can't Wait For This

Bob Dylan's back in the studio; album will be released in the next few months

I am really, really excited about this. It's been a long time since 2001's Love & Theft, but if the new album is anything like that one then it will have been worth it. Dylan seems to be taking his time with new releases in his old age, 1997's Time Out of Mind jump-started the whole Dylan-revival that got me interested in his music, and then Love & Theft confirmed that the old man still has it, in spades, but it took four long years for the sequel to come out. I've heard rumors that this could be it, that he may release this album in May and then walk away from music for good...I don't believe that, he's been doing the Never Ending Tour for almost 20 years so why stop now? But I don't know what it's like to be 65 anymore than the next 23-year old, so who can say?

Whatever happens, I'm just glad to have one more new album from the master, even if this is it. Now if we can just get a NET bootleg series going, then we'll have something...

The Superbowl

Sorry for the generic image, but until I get myself a digital camera these pictures that have been culled from the internet will have to do.

Everything went surprisingly well yesterday, much to my surprise. Charley didn't break down into tears because of the enormity of it all, he didn't call James in on his birthday, Leah and Charley didn't start cussing each other out over who was the laziest, and Abdul and I didn't threaten each other with violence b/c someone took the wrong run.

As in Superbowls past, James overscheduled a bit and we weren't quite as busy as we expected to be. It shouldn't come as a surprise, part of the reason the big pizza stores are so busy on this day is b/c they advertise like mad before and during the game...and of course my little store doesn't do TV advertising. But there was still something of a bump as compared to normal Sundays, that's for sure.

People were tipping well, for the most part, although I did get stiffed at one house. I should've expected it but for whatever reason my mind was elsewhere and I wasn't anticipating a no-tip as I drove to 2328 _____ St. If you know it's coming then you can deal, but when you pull up to the driveway and then realize who the asshole is that you're about to meet then sometimes you don't put your best face forward. I'd been to this house several times, usually in the early afternoon and usually to deliver to a few kids who order a sub or two and a dozen wings as an afternoon snack, I guess. Being teenagers, of course they never tip. But when I pulled up last night there were a few more cars in the yard and they had a relatively large order coming their way, so I thought maybe, just maybe, the kids' mother/father/guardian would be more generous.

This older black lady comes to the door, I smile, still thinking I might get tipped, and tell her the price (22 something). She takes the pizzas and hands me a twenty, then says hold on a second. She calls to her friend/child/miserly companion, who dumps something into her hands just beyond my scope, then she returns. "Here ya go," she says kindly, all smiles, and she holds out her hands which're cupped together. I extend mine in the same way, and she dumps a sweaty glob of change into hands.

I take a quick glance, see that it's about $2, and turn and walk away without any sort of parting phrase or gesture. I normally say to the tippers "Thank you, have a good night" and sometime I'll even extend the courtesy of the latter half of that phrase to no-tippers, just as a reflex, but when someone really pisses me off I say nothing and just walk away, doing my best to scowl. I've been tempted in the past to say "Thanks a lot" but I could never quite bring myself to be that rude to a customer.

Well, this behavior just stunned this old woman, and she calls out to my back: "aincha gowna count it?!" I said nothing and walked to my car, she mumbled something about "dat boy" and went back into her house. Fuck her.

Old bitch at 2328, you now join Eric Bana on my shit list.

Thursday 2/2

Except for the last hour, last night was just another really slow weekday. I did 8 runs in 5 hours, which is...not good. But the tips were excellent, for the most part, and this weekend should be busy, especially Sunday with the Superbowl and all.

We did have a late night rush in the last hour, right as the rain was picking up, of course. I had taken a close run and returned to the store as Mo was leaving with another. There were two deliveries, neither of them that far away but in opposite directions, and the first one, which would belong to me, was the better of the two. So I was looking forward to taking that one and leaving the shitty one for Mo. Naturally, James asks me: "you want to take both?"

Of course the subtext here is: "please take both. I can't trust Mo yet with an after-hours delivery like that one." You see it was getting close to closing time and whoever took the second run would have to deliver it some time after 10. Neither James nor Charlie ever stay a second past closing time, unlike managers at, you know, real stores, and so when a late delivery is taken what happens is the driver has to pay for it in advance and then he pockets what he collects from the customer. A whole helluva a lot of time something goes wrong on these, and why we still do it I don't know (it seems like hundreds of times I've done it and people have called the store b/c they think their delivery's late, and there was no answer, so when I get there they say something like "I ain't payin fo dis! I dun called de stow an dun noone ansaad!" and I'm out there without a lifeline) but anyway the point is Mo is still inexperienced with that sort of thing and to top it off he is cell-phone-less, so it wouldn't be a great idea for him to take it.

I said yes, and then b/c another call came in I had to wait until practically 10 before I left with both deliveries. Both were a hassle - there's just something about these late night deliveries after closing time, it's like the customers know they can give me a hard time - but they weren't as bad as they could be.

At the first one the total was ~25 or so, and the asshole comes out (after I have to knock three separate times, by the final knocking my hand hurt coz I banged the door so much) and wants to pay with two twenties. I had a five and five ones for change, normally I would have more but 1)I had no cash in my wallet and 2)I had to borrow the ten for the bank from the store in the first place, and for some reason I didn't take the usual 15, which would have sufficed in this instance.

"Do you have a ten?" I asked. "You see I only have 10 in change."

The guy snorts and then says no. He leaves me with one of the twenties and heads back into his trailer to "look for some change." Meanswhile I stand outside for 3-4 minutes while he looks...when he comes back he says "just give me the ten and we'll call it even."

That's not the way I usually get a $5 tip, but I'll take it. Of course, now I had no change for my next stop, so I had to swing by a gas station and make change.

When I finally arrive at my second stop, a full 45 minutes after they'd ordered, I was sure they'd called the store by then. You see we tell everyone when we take the orders "it'll be there in about 45 minutes" which is a safe time to give b/c it's usually pretty accurate and gives us a good plus/minus range. But nobody listens anymore, we all just wait for our chance to speak, and pizza patrons are just like everyone else, only worse.

It had been drizzling, but as I pulled up onto this guy's street the bottom fell out and the rain really started to come down. I know (b/c I took the order over the phone) that this guy ain't gonna tip, but I do the honorable thing and keep his stuff in the bag so it won't get wet, and I rush up to his door like I give a damn. He sees me and opens it, but of course he doesn't invite me in, and since he lives in a fucking trailer there isn't any covering on the porch. So I'm standing there getting drenched, handing him his pizza, and he gives me a twenty for his $18.77 order. For a quarter of a second I thought he might pity me and let me keep the $1.23, but well, I could take one look at him and tell he was much closer to the ideal no-tipper than he was to the ideal great-tipper. I guess I'll go into pizza delivery profiling later, but he was a young, semi-poor, black man. That does not translate into good tippage.

As I pulled away the rain abated. Another of God's little jokes.