Sunday, &%$*ing Sunday

WARNING: EXPLICIT LANGUAGE




(This warning of course has never stopped anyone from scrolling down in the history of the internet)

I rode the subway home after a busy Sunday with a few friends.  End of the weekend depression was pawing at me.  Then, down at the other end of the car, an old woman got on a phone and started yelling.

"FUCK", she said.  "FUCK korean korean korean FUCK". Now I don't want you to misunderstand and think that this little old lady had a penchant for the finer things the English language has to offer.  Instead you should understand, (and many of you certainly have experience), that when spending a prolonged period of time in a foreign country it's always wise to pick up their very worst swear words.  Knowing them is a little like knowing that when a dog wags it's tail it's happy and when it lowers it's tail it is looking to bite you in the throat.  Body language can sometimes get lost in translation, but let me tell you that if you hear 'shiball' in Korea somebody's angry.

Now this woman has some stamina.  She was reading the script for Casino.  She is making a young Eddie Murphy proud and an old Eddie Murphy sad.  A man in a very sharp business suit gets up an confronts her.  Among other grievances I  could imagine him laying on her, there is a very young-but-not-so-young-he-can't-learn-these-words boy sitting across from her with his mother, (who was staring daggers).  Inexplicably, she repeatedly shakes his hand while continuing on the phone.  He eventually sits back down, although I don't think it was because they'd reached an accord.

The subway security show up and she gets off the phone.  By 'get off the phone' I mean she hangs up and gives the cell back to the appalled looking teen beside her, who quickly gets up and heads to a different car that doesn't know he lent his phone to the angriest grandma.

At this point I am trying to learn Korean through force of will.  The way she went on and on with security I am certain she was explaining every offense committed by whoever was on the other end of the line.  They asked her to get off for a long time with the train not moving.  Then the train started moving and they stayed on, asking her to get off.  But this woman had mastered placing 'fuck' four times in a sentence.  She was going to have no problem telling these guys 'no'.  And so they left.

Now as the security left, so too did my friends.  It fell on me to see this woman through to the end of her adventure or at least until I had to transfer to a bus in three stops.  So when she ambled off, blue over sized trousers sagging hard in the back, I waited two minutes and followed her.

I came into the next car just in time to hear her give a mighty 'SHIBALL' and see the very unamused youth, (late teens, early twenties), take his phone back.  Yes, so committed was this woman to telling someone 'fuck' that she had requisitioned another cell from another person who was morally obligated to help her and gone to town on it.  She stalked through the car, grumbling for the phones of teens like a troll.  They all refused her though, the girls with wide eyes and the boys by pretending to be very very sleepy.

It was my stop, and as I walked out of the car I watched her walk into the next one, to borrow cell phones and scream obscenities into them.

Precious memories.

I rarely publish anything this impotent.

This is not my story to tell, but I'm going to tell it anyway. I think it's the lesser of the two evils that will be discussed.

Our hero, lets call her "Bittnee" works at an elementary school of some repute.  Last year in fact they were a 'model school', a title that like Miss Universe comes with a great deal of scrutiny.  Let's replace 'slim, attractive and successfully suppressing sex tapes' with 'slim, attractive and producing high test scores.'

Now it is an old hat that school in Korea is competitive.  The middle school students are ranked from first to worst in every subject.  High school's must be applied for similar to Universities.  Elementary is no exception.  So they have contests.  Real winner and loser affairs that are not looking to spare anyone's feelings.  Throw them in the spotlight and see who swims.  Ok, fair enough, understood.

So Bittnee's school ran an English speaking contest.  Third graders participated, sixth graders participated.  Some other grades participated.  A lot of English was spoken and it was good and it was bad and that's how these things always go.  Two winners were picked.  The second round of the competition was the creation of an entirely new speech for a city wide contest of school champions. This one was to be submitted in writing prior to the competition.  So the children do the work, put in the time, and create new speeches.  Bittnee takes a look.  They aren't bad.  Not exactly 'Paradise Lost' but then the writers don't look like this:

Crazy ol' John Milton

They look like this:

Deserving of support an encouragement.

And that's for the best I figure.  So the winners of the school competition hand in their new speeches and what do their teachers decide?  That they are not good enough.  For example: the sentences are too short.  These speeches will embarrass the school and so what they will do is they will tell the children their speeches were sent in but that they were deemed losers immediately and will not get to participate in the city wide competition.  In reality, they will just, oh, I don't know, burn and swallow them to generate warmth to compensate for what their cold cold heart should be supplying them with.  Bittnee asks the teachers if she could work with the students to help them rewrite their speeches.  She is told no, there is no time.  We will simply lie to the children, it is that best way.

And so I suppose that the kids will never know the difference.  They have lost before and they will lose again.  The teachers will not be embarrassed because no one but me and you will know and we'll forget of course.
Their decision though is cowardly, and their students deserve better.

A addendum: In the twisted psyche of  the ex-pat, there grows the proclivity to look around and see everything as an example of THE CULTURE in which you are immersed.  It is an easy thing to say "this is so typically Korean".  The importance of saving face here is not to be unappreciated.  What should also be appreciated though is that the decision of these teachers is not, I believe, representative of the decision that most teachers here would make.  It instead represents a far more international culture, prolific although not popular throughout the world.  Namely, being a fucking dick.

Can you do me a favour?

Remind me that the teacher who sits beside me is leaving on Thursday because the other teacher is coming back from maternity leave.

Remind me to check the price of a BOSS tuner pedal.

Remind me to pick up my new favorite cereal, the one with Tony the Tiger on it that isn't 'Frosted Flakes' but some kind of 'Honeycomb' knock off that doesn't taste much like 'Honeycomb' and is browner.

Remind me that I need to set up a bank account at the Korean Exchange Bank to transfer money home cheaper.

Remind me to harass HSBC because they said they'd get back to me about my Korea money transfer question in two days and it's been two weeks.

Remind me that it's Friday and I told myself I would stay in.  Remind me it's because of that story I'm supposed to finish by Tuesday.

Remind me that all the books I stole from REDACTED need to be taken back to REDACTED before REDACTED finds out and REDACTED me over a REDACTED REDACTED.


Remind me that I need to go shopping for presents.

Remind me that I need to know how to play at least four of my band's songs on the ukulele by tomorrow 1pm.  I'll forget trying to remember all these other things.

Remind me to look for coloured sharpies to finish the t-shirt I am drawing on.

Remind me as well to remember all the other things I need to remember that are too confidential for a blog.  I'll know what you mean.

Coming in for the Kill

I am trying to be diligent.  I am trying diligently to stay focused.  I am trying to focus on being productive.  I am having none of it.  We may as well call it ladies and gentlemen, at 10:48 am, it has been declared a 'phone-it-in-Friday'.  I have two more classes that will consist of playing "The Price is Right" because it turns out that after the third grade finishes their exams five weeks before the end of the school year so that their marks can be sent to high schools and they can potentially feel the first door to their future shut on them at the calloused age of fifteen, both them and the teachers shut off.  I knew going into this last month that the students were going to be flexing their collective "don't give a shit" muscle.  And why not?  They study more hours than I think we even have in Canada.  I had kind of thought that we teachers would have to stand firm in the face of this and marshal education through the storm.  But the children cry out and I am told by my minders, "Let them play Games."  And why not?  The teachers word hard too.  So we are all on board, sailing this open sail into winter vacation.  The only anchors are the children's parents, some of whom apparently complained because the kids were being showed "too many videos".  All I can say to them is that they created these exam monsters and no one aught to be surprised that they scream to be appeased once they bite through the chains that you sharpened their teeth for.

The Weekend is Out.

P.S. Friday Jam brought to you by http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CpEOErRV-u4&feature=related

I wish Billy Mays were here

My computer is being rebellious, so I restart it.  It is my only relaxing evening of the week and making the most of it means keeping reflection or complex thought well away, so I turn on the t.v. while I wait.  A man is demonstrating some sort of super paper towel in an infomertial.  That is to say, he must be demonstrating the super paper towel's competition, because as per the laws of infomertials it is doing atrociously.  The man is trying to clean his hand or something but only a smudge comes off.  He holds a new paper towel, or perhaps it is a napkin, in one hand and his other hand is closed in a loose fist.  The circle of his index finger and thumb are ringed with brown something.  He takes another napkin or tissue and places it against his hand and turns it upside down.  Perhaps he's pouring something out to display absorbancy.  He shows us the tissue all smudged again but he still isn't happy so this can't be the solution, wait he's opened the dirty hand and there is nothing in it at all.  Only his pointer finger and thumb are stained brown and... oh dear.

The man sticks his hand in a very nice toilet.  The bottom of the screen informs me that it's only 208,000 Won, which could very well be a good deal.  With the push of a button a stainless steel tube emerges from somewhere under the rim.  His hand simulating a dirty butt hole, the man smiles and shows us how effective the jet of water is at cleaning whatever his producers deemed the appropriate stand-in for shit. 

Oh Korea, how could you.  I was so young.

I was so young.

A Query

Dear Korea:

We write you today in regards to your no smoking policy on T.V. 

It is not that we here at the ministry are not sympathetic to the dangers of smoking it is just... allow me to digress.

You are currently showing the American program "It's Always Sunny in Philidelphia" on your 'Fox Life' channel between the hours of roughly eleven and twelve.  This is a comedy which finds humour in such sensitive fields as:

Abortion
Having sex with your best friend's mother
The mentally handicapped
Racism
High risk gambling
Drug addiction
Slavery

 This list is not to suggest that we here at the ministry do not find "It's Always Sunny in Philidelphia" humours.  On the contrary, we do.  However we would understand if you chose to take umbridge with any of the above mentioned themes, but you don't.  There is no sensoring of the dialogue, no particular episode left out on morale grounds. 

And here in lies our thrust.  You blur every cigarette that is raised to someone's lips.  Man or woman, young or old, as soon as a very visible cigarette in the hand touches someone's lips it is swathed in a pixel penumbra that frankly is not fooling anyone.  Cigarettes are three dollars a pack here and you're going to have children confused why they can see the cig their daddy is puffing on. 

Let this not ruin our good relations.  Let it only be known that we here at the Ministry of "Why the Hell are you Doing That?" are wondering why the hell are you doing that?

Sincerely,

- The Ministry of Why the Hell are you Doing That?

P.S. While we're on the subject, why can see see naked boobs on t.v. while we're eating cereal at 8 in the morning?  You could at least wait until 9:30 when the children are at school.

How to turn a good day into a bad day in four minutes

First, a natural history lesson.  

300 million years ago the Eath's atmosphere consisted of a much higher level of oxygen (about 50% more).  Capitalist biology said "with so much supply, we can increase demand."  With more oxygen to fuel them, bugs threw big, too big if you ask anyone with any sense in their head today.  (For more about bugs and oxygen, go here) 

Now fast forward 300 million.  There is less oxygen, there are no bugs with two and a half feet of wings, (I didn't check on this and don't tell me if I'm wrong) and in South Korea 51 million people packed into a space that is nine times smaller than the Canadian province I grew up in.  I don't know where the air I breath places in the world ranking of the DCTYD* quotient, but everyone's got a car and the old woman who lives across the street from my apartment burns trash beside her rows of cabbage.  

(*Directly Contributing To Your Death)

The point is, why was the cockroach that I killed last night with a sandal in my apartment so god damn big?  Surely there should be some sort of inverse reaction to all  this.  Surely if cockroaches had any sense they would be tiny tiny and gathering at the G20 in Seoul to protest for carbon fuel emission regulations.  The worst part of last night came not when it fell to the floor and required to be hit again because it's thick carapace had evolved a resistance to even a well made German Birkenstock, or the volume in deciliters of guts that marred my floor when I finished him (with the sign of the cross, my homage to Boondock Saints).  No it in fact the worst part came with I glance up from his mess to find that there was already another mysteriously dead cockroach lying withered on his back on a rag by the sink.  Was a vigilante leaving me these grim bones as proof of their work on my behalf?

Sort of.  It was Brittney.  She left it there "for me to see it."  Which is a round about way of saying she hates me and hopes I don't get any sleep.  Did you know that as you fall asleep at night you can mistake the sound of your eyelashes scrapping the pillow when you blink for the sound of thin spindle feet scuttling towards you?  

The point is, two cockroaches in one day means I'm pretty sure they're trying to crawl into my mouth.  

I will not eat you Cock-A-Roach, 

I will not eat you boiled or poached.

I don't want to see you raw in the light.

And certainly not in my maw at night.

The Wise Children

This we are administering speaking tests to the seventh graders.  The speaking test goes like this: you sit down opposite myself and receive a card with five phrases on it.  Like this,

1. 시 간 은  돈 이 다    (Shee gahn eun   don ee dah)

That's only one phrase but you get the point.

And if you're a good and studious seventh grader you will say to me 'Time is money'.

Now the students here get wound up pretty good before any test, but a speaking test is especially tense.  It's them and me and a list of forty English proverbs they are supposed to have memorized.  I really shouldn't then have been surprised when I walked into my first class after lunch and was greeted by forty frantic girls screaming, "TEACHA TEACHA ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKE JACK A DULL BOY LET BEEGONES BE BEEGONES GOOD THINGS COME IN SMALL PACKAGE IT IS NO USE CRYING OVER SPLIT MILK BEGGARS CAN BE CHOOSERS A STONE CAN KILL TWO BIRDS LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP"

This Is Sportsday

Sports Day.  The most universal of all -orts Days.  Teacher and student alike, we are all glad. 

The bob.  I told them it's called this because their hair bobs while they walk like a buoy in the water.  Am I right?

The Swarm.  The Horde.  My Students.  I enjoy their company.

The student President and Vice President are sworn in by the Principal.  Purpose?  Unknown. 

First Event: Tug O' War

I'm not sure if these boys are wearing the war faces or the tug faces.

Their opponents, looking confident.

Mrs. Yi marshal's her home room.  It is hard to say whether they fear or respect her more.  Certainly this is where I have learned all my Korean swears. 

And now, a montage of victories.

:)

Mrs. Kang in her traditional sun gear:  Fur, full sleeves, double wide double long visor and dual flapped anti-bacterial face mask.

I can not convey to anyone who has not been to Korea the importance of 'rock, paper, scissors' in arbitration.  In my classes if there is a tie, those involved will immediately begin to throw signs and even in situations that find four or five different players vying for the prize or position, the matter is settled in forty-five seconds.

Here we see a ceremonial version played 'blind'.  That is to say the combatants, back to back, judge that they've won only by the moans and cheers of their respective teams.  This was to decide which side of the rope each team would tug on.

Event: Tie everyone's feet together.  Run!

Event: Team Jump Rope.  

Rules: Undiscernable.

Falling down:  Funny. 

Event: Run with the long stick

Rules: 

1.Do a barrel roll.

2. Go under.

3. Go over.

 Event: Who can score the most baskets with very poor form.

Rules: 1. Everyone must play only soccer in gym class for their entire life up to this point.

2.  Try and put a basketball in a ten foot hoop.

Event: The dozen+ legged race.

Rules: Don't fall down.

Boys: fallin' down.

 Girls: exhibiting great unity.

Girls: fallin' down.

The girls brought signs.  Very well crafted and often laminated.  I asked them what they said.  It turns out that far from expounding the superiority of their class or grade or school, they are the names of pretty boys from pop groups and dramas that they would like to marry.  They failed to see my point when I told them they were insane.

Event: Taekwondo? 

No.

Shoe kick-throw.

Rules: The farthest shoe wins.

Event: Teacher's three legged race.

Rules: Don't fall an embarrass yourself in front of the students.

I don't even now

After lunch, the student body assembled.

Twelve hundred chairs on the field.  And for what?

The best live music Beommul has to offer.

Performing 'Who Put the Bop in the Bop-Shoo-Bop' it's Girls in Red Bow Ties (look out for them, they're going to be big),

One of these things is not like the other.

Traditionally in Western societies, the talent show choreographed dance is a female dominated endeavor, with  male forays into the form mainly focusing on 'look how funny it is when boys do this.'  Not so in Korea.

These boys, these boys are dancing for keeps.

 Shuffle two three four, pivot turn pause squeak slide shoulder shrug.

And now the girls take the stage-

NUH UH, THE BOYS ARE UP IN HERE.

Gloves AND shirtless with blazer over top.  Magnificent.

The festival was drawing to a close.  Dark clouds joined hands in the sky.  Greg took this picture from behind his drum kit.

But from the light, our heroes emerged.

Did they rock?

Kind of.

 They kind of rocked so

Hard.

As always though, the critics were divided.

Some said, "They were really pretty good."

While other believed that they were in fact, "pretty good, really".

 But that's sports day in Korea.

That's sports day.

P.S. bonus points if you read the title of the post as a '300' reference.  

P.P.S. sorry for the '300' reference.