yakihito

Nagasaki Food

2012-02-01T23:18:00.000-08:00

On my recent trip to Nagasaki, aside from spotting Korean items, I made it a point to eat very good food. Nagasaki has some famous dishes that I wanted to try plus there was the usual Japanese food to eat. It was a good food trip.

My first meal in Japan was this plate of chicken namban, which I had at Fukuoka Airport. Chicken namban is a specialty of Miyazaki, in southern Kyushu, and I often ate it while living in Oita. It's basically fried chicken with a mayonnaise sauce. "Namban" means "southern barbarian" and is an old word to describe the Portuguese and other Europeans who arrived from the seas south of Japan. So, it's the Japanese idea of what European chicken would be.

Seeing as I live in a small town with no ethic food variety, I'm always on the look out for good Indian food. This was a nice mix of traditional Indian with Japanese (read: sweet) curry. I ended up eating at another branch of this same restaurant later in my trip.

I like to stay at the Toyoko Inn, an affordable chain of business hotels. They have a free breakfast that's pretty good. I especially liked the egg but they only had it that first day.

Nagasaki is famous for champon, the local ramen. It has seafood and pork as well as cabbage, and is unique in that the food and soup are cooked together in the same pan. I picked this place randomly and it was just OK.

One of Nagasaki's more bizarre dishes is Turkish Rice, which involves absolutely no Turkish food at all. There's a European component, usually spaghetti, and an Asian one, which in this case was fried rice. Bridging the two food continents was a breaded pork cutlet, or tonkatsu. So, like Turkey, it's both European and Asian. Get it?

Here's another example of Turkish Rice. I didn't eat this one.

Although Korea has a raw fish food culture it's different from Japan's and I was hankering for some good sushi. This place I found on the water did not disappoint. As is my wont, I also had a tall glass of jizake, or local sake. It was delicious.

It wouldn't be a trip to Japan without a plate of tempura. This was lunch in Shimabara, a city with a castle a few hours south of Nagasaki. It was cold and sleeting outside and this food hit the spot. You can't see it but under the usual vegetable tempura is a battered and fried slice of white fish. It was shockingly good.

Seeing as my first bowl of champon wasn't so hot, I decided to ask for a recommendation at my hotel. They sent me to this place in Chinatown and it was incredible. The bowl was piled high with ingredients and the soup was heavenly. I had to go back to the hotel and lie down after eating it, I was so full.

Nagasaki is also famous for castella, a kind of pound cake based on recipes brought by the Portuguese. Castella is popular all over Japan (and Korea too). Here I'm having some castella with a melon soda at the top of a mountain overlooking Nagasaki harbor.

Nagasaki has a few famous castella bakeries but the most famous is Fukusaya, which has been in business right at this spot for almost 400 years. I bought a box here for the teachers at my school. It was really delicious.

Riding The K-Wave

2012-01-31T14:24:00.000-08:00

Kara encourage you to buy chocolate for Valentine's Day.

I recently spent five days in Nagasaki. It was my first time back in Japan since the recent Korean wave took over. Seeing as I live in Korea, I was pretty in tune to all the Korean stuff that was floating around. Here's a few of the things I noticed.

I first became aware of how much the Korean thing has taken over Japan when I was watching TV in the middle of the day in my hotel (yes, exciting vacation). There were Korean dramas on not one but two stations, and one of them was a period drama. Japanese people are interested in the Jeoseon Dynasty? Modern Korean soap operas are full of attractive people being petty to each other and who doesn't like that? But period dramas are pretty culturally specific.

I popped into my local Family Mart and spied makgeolli in cans. Makgeolli is a kind of unfiltered rice wine that's recently outgrown its farmer roots and become popular all over Korea. It's also become popular in Japan. I noticed makgeolli in plastic bottles (how it's usually sold in Korea) in Japanese grocery stores too.

Do you want delicious makgeolli or Seoul makgeolli?

The same convenient mart also had a big display out for Valentine's Day, with Kara as the advertising centerpiece (see above). As in Korea, Japanese Valentine's Day is a day for women to buy candy for men. So the use of Kara here is interesting. Kara are telling women to buy chocolate, not men. K-pop is much more popular in Japan with women than with men, who still prefer their idols teenage and peppy (AKB48 *ahem*).

K-pop in general has gotten really popular in Japan, with most big groups releasing Japanese-language albums. The local Tower Records had an entire wall devoted to K-pop CDs. While taking a small, local line out to see a castle I spied this Kara poster in the window of a tiny countryside train station. Just out of sight are posters for Shinee and Beast.

I think the station master's daughter forced him to put up this Kara poster.

Lastly, it seems like Korean food is getting more popular too. I saw a commercial for a kimchi sauce to use in casseroles. The commercial showed a family with two young children all super excited about this sauce, which they were liberally pouring into nabe (hot pot) and other dishes. They even used it in tteukbokki, a spicy rice cake dish popular with teenagers in Korea, which I don't recall ever having seen before in Japan.

Of course, nothing compares to the real thing. When I arrived at Busan airport I was greeted by this sign featuring K-pop group Secret and their legs, exhorting me to drink this brand of soju "everyday."

The name of this soju is Good Day. It is now.

Want A Ride

2011-12-27T13:30:00.000-08:00

I've been sitting on this story a week or so, letting it percolate. It was one of those things that wasn't so big, considering all of my experiences in Korea, yet is representative of the kinds of innocent cultural clashes that can occur here.

I take the bus to school. The bus stop is along a major thoroughfare so people often stop to give me a ride. Usually it's a teacher but on this one day it was a student's father, giving his son and another student a ride to school. They stopped and motioned me over. I got in and almost immediately the father, who looked to be not much older than me, was saying, "Everyday, everyday." He wanted to give me a ride everyday.

I have learned from experience that this kind of kindness is often a trap. Not like there's a hidden agenda but for every act of kindness you receive, you become beholden to that person in some way. This is doubly true when it's a student's parent. Teachers are expected to be paragons of moral virtue and any slip-up will result in problems not just for the parties involved but for the whole school. So you can understand why I got nervous when he told me, "Everyday." But I was trapped. I was in the car with him and two of my students. I had to say yes.

And so it was that I found myself leaving the house 15 minutes earlier everyday and getting a ride from this man, who owned an intestines-soup restaurant around the corner from my house. I would show up at the restaurant at 7:55, the time instructed to arrive. I would watch his son eat his breakfast, politely refuse a similar breakfast for myself, and then we would drive across town to pick up the other student and be dropped at school almost 30 minutes earlier than I needed to be there.

Aside from the change in schedule, things were going along fine until a few days in, when the usual probing (read: uncomfortably personal) questions and typical teacher treatment I was used to began to change. When the father found out I was close to his age, he started yelling, "Chingu ya!" ("Friends!") and switched from parent/teacher mode to drinking buddy mode.

I should mention here that what determines friendship in Korea is less shared experience than similarity in age. When even a one-year difference can preclude intimacy, the fact that you're the same age means you don't have to worry about who's junior or senior and can meet each other as equals. We weren't exactly the same age but it was close enough for him to go straight to bosom pals without—as we Westerners might prefer—earning it.

It started mildly enough, with jokes about how sleepy I looked and such. I was surprised at first. I'm used to this kind of teasing from my fellow teachers. I don't always like it, usually because there's a language barrier and humor is also very culturally specific, but they have earned the right to tease me. I rarely tease them back for a variety of reasons but I know them so I know their hearts are in the right place.

One morning I was sitting at a table, watching the son stab at his meaty soup with his chopsticks, when the father came right up to me, stuck his finger to within a few inches of my left eye, and said something in Korean. It's very rude to point in Korea, let alone stick your finger in someone's eye. I turned to the son, waiting for the translation. His son was only a first-year middle school student and his English, while not as bad as many, was not that great. His vocabulary was limited and he tended to over-rely on the "to be" verb, even sticking it in sentences that already had perfectly good verbs. He looked at me, thought about what his father had said, and translated, "Dog eye."

"I have dog eyes?" I asked, incredulously. Dogs are not animals of privilege in Korea. A common Korean insult is "dog baby," or as we might say, "son of a bitch." I turned to the father and said "dog eye?" in Korean to make sure he really did say that. He just laughed. The son quickly added, "Handsome!" but the damage was done. I had dog eyes.

Over the next few days it got worse. Korean men like to pretend they're angry. It's a joke, of course, but for someone who isn't used to it and can't understand what's being said, it sounds identical to real anger. Imagine sitting in a car. The man who is sitting one foot to your left is yelling at you in a foreign language. You assume he's not really mad but all you have to go on is the tone of his voice. The translation that arrives is garbled and heavy on the "to be" verb, if one comes at all.

I began to dread these morning rides. Why did I agree to this, I kept asking myself. I could feel my stomach knotting up as I was getting ready to go to school. I don't mind taking the bus, I would say. I don't like getting to school so early, I would justify.

On the last day of our carpool, while sitting in the car on the way to school, the father asked me if I had gone to see his daughter dance in the local Christmas pageant the night before. I really did want to go but in typical Korean fashion he only told me about it the morning of the event. When I said, "Busy," he started in on the anger thing. I knew it was coming. My stomach was already starting to hurt. All of the emotions I had been suppressing the past few weeks came out: "I don't know if you're really angry or joking," I said, the desperation ringing in my voice. His son translated and he clarified, "Joke, joke." I explained that in America we don't yell at acquaintances like that, to which he said something back in Korean in what I can only assume was meant to be a joking tone but sounded to me like sarcasm. No one spoke the rest of the ride.

I consulted with my co-teachers about what to do and my head co-teacher volunteered to mediate. I felt like a coward, having someone else fight my battle for me, but in Korea it's better for a mediator to handle things than for there to be a confrontation. He explained that Americans aren't comfortable with others helping them and that they like to do things by themselves. He didn't mention that I was offended. I still felt sick over the whole thing, especially since my students had been in the car, but it was over now. Almost.

A few days later the middle school vice principal called my co-teacher. Apparently the father came to him to find out what happened. He had been trying to lighten the mood and I had gotten offended. He was embarrassed and wanted to clear the air. My co-teacher never mentioned that the father had been rude and wasn't treating me like his son's teacher so the vice principal thought I should take rides from him again. But my co-teacher insisted this way was better.

I fully believe that the father was only trying to be funny. He wasn't trying to offend me. But in general, if you tease someone and they don't tease you back, or they laugh uncomfortably, it's pretty obvious they're not enjoying it. Had this situation happened in the US I would have deflected the blame by explaining to him that the time was inconvenient for me and refused the rides. But here, without the luxury of fluency, I could only get frustrated.

The person I truly feel bad for is the son, my student. He's probably the most embarrassed of all of us.

Never Say Never Again

2011-12-06T16:27:00.001-08:00

I've gone and done it. I've applied to JET again. After such a long application process, to be put on the waiting list was more than I could bear. I ended up in Korea and figured when I finally did make it back to Japan, it would not be with JET. Also, JET had an age limit of 40 which I was fast approaching.

And then they went and dropped the age limit.

And so I found myself once again gathering together letters of recommendation and college transcripts, writing an essay about why Japan needs me, and stressing about little things in the online application. Ah, natsukashii. I even had a moment of terror when I was hospitalized with pneumonia before I had finished the application. But, thanks to a liberal patient containment policy and a very helpful co-teacher, I was able to get everything printed out and mailed to Washington D.C. on time.

Now the waiting. Come January, JET will hopefully inform me that they want me to interview. I figure my chances are pretty good, now that I have actual teaching experience to back up my BA in Japanese. Then I'll fly off to Guam for a combination job interview/tropical vacation. If all goes well, I'll find out in April whether or not I got the job, and then start in August 2012.

Lord help me if I end up on the waiting list again.

Two Weeks In Jaeil: The Hospital Diaries

2011-12-04T17:09:00.001-08:00

Portrait of the author as a hospital patient.

After almost a weekof constant fever and already at least two visits to doctors, I had myco-teacher meet me at Jaeil Hospital to ask the doctor to take some tests andsee what was going on. He told me again he didn't think I was all that sick butindulged me with an X-ray, blood work and a piss test. It's a good think hedid: I had pneumonia and needed to be hospitalized right away, for at least twoweeks. How did I go from "not serious" to two weeks in the hospital?He showed me the X-rays. I could plainly see the sea anemone blooming in myleft lung. And that was that.

After a quick tripback to my apartment to grab a few things I was being shown to my new room. Iwas never even checked in. At one point I sat for a few minutes in a room thatlooked like it might be for new patients but then I was gone again. The onlytime I ever signed anything was for a CT scan.

My bed was in a roomon the third floor. The room had six beds where even four might be considered cramped.Each faced away from the wall with just a retractable yellow curtain to offer asuggestion of privacy. I changed into the hospital pajamas they provided—thankgod they didn't open at the back, I was spared that one indignity—said goodbyeto my co-teacher, and climbed into bed.

I finally allowedmyself to look around. I had avoided making eye contact with the men in theroom because I knew they were all staring at me. I knew they had watched myevery move with a curiosity reserved for those for whom nothing much new everhappens any more. They were staring, baldly and boldly. I decided to ignorethem for the time being and try to relax.

I laid flat on myback, my head on a rock-hard rubber pillow. The bed did not recline. It did notmove at all. If we needed to sit up, we pulled ourselves up. If we needed tolie back, we used our arms, often leaning on the IV tube to do so. After acouple of times of doing this and smarting from the pain, I learned to keepthat plastic leash away from my body. (I also eventually realized that the painwas just the tape pulling on my arm hair and not the needle breaking off in myvein.)

With my co-teachergone, the full weight of my situation began to come down on me. I was going tobe in this place for two weeks. I had never stayed overnight in a hospitalbefore in America, let alone Korea. I was in a room with four old menwith obvious respiratory issues. And from what I had seen so far, hygienedidn't seem to be high on the list of hospital priorities.

The bathroom waspublic. It was for the whole floor. You dragged your IV stand down the hall andeither stood in front of the urinal or you parked it in front of a stall andlocked the door on the tube. There was hand soap but not always paper towels.

Next to the bathroomwas the public washing area. This consisted of a row of sinks with showerattachments for hair washing. There was a rubber bed under a nozzle in onecorner. I was reminded of those scenes in The Wall when Pink is running aroundin the military hospital, reading poetry in the grim stalls. I had no hand soapto wash with. I had no shampoo. Hell, even Korean motels provide that. I was in aplace lower than a love motel.

Bed with a view

The hospital didn't even have that antiseptic hospital smell. Usually that smell is enough to turn your stomach but I was longing for it. Watching two old ladies slop water around the floor of our room wasn't enough to convince me that the hospital really was clean.

I settled back intomy bed and tried to sleep. There was a TV mounted to the wall at the foot of mybed that stayed on from 6:30 in the morning until 10:00 at night. I hadforgotten earplugs. Luckily I had my iPhone and iPad, and busied myselfcomplaining on Facebook until I fell into an uneasy unconsciousness.

Around 9:00 pm theheater next to my bed, which I had been eyeing worringly all day, finallykicked into life. It started innocuously enough but soon was pumping out hotair into my face. The door to the room closed, the lights went out, and thetemperature crept ever higher. I don't know if I ever even fully slept thatnight. I remember sitting up in bed, staring out the window in the direction ofmy apartment, which I knew was forgivingly cool and spacious and private. Theveil between Korea and myself had been completely obliterated. I was naked in ahot wind, and I cried.

Not long after Iawoke the next day, a sixth patient was brought to our room, filling all thebeds. Although I rarely saw him, he being hidden by the curtain that Istubbornly kept drawn, I began to think of him as the Executive. In glimpses, Icould see he was not as rough warn as the other men in the room, who had theweathered skin of farmers or manual laborers. His hair managed to stay neatlyparted even though mine had already taken on the appearance of old straw.

Occupying the thirdbed on my side of the room and closest to the door was the Sleeper, a man Ionly ever saw curled up in his blankets. He hardly made a sound except for whenhe called out for his wife, who invariably was not there. I had him pegged asthe first to die.

Across from me wasthe Baritone, so named for his surprisingly deep voice. I would hear himtalking and in my mind I would see a big bear of a man. Reality provided asquirrel. He was frail, with knobby knees, and was blessed with completefreedom of motion. I never could figure out how someone could be sick enough toneed to be in there with us but not need an IV. It meant he could wear his ownshirt though.

Next to the Baritonewas LulzSec. At first I was calling him the Hacker because of the nearconstant, pained coughing. But in the middle of the first night, I was awakenedby what sounded like a hyena laughing. It was him, trying not to cough. Thiswent on all night. In the morning I gave him the new name.

Lastly, there was McMurphy.He didn't seem to be sick at all. In fact, I'm pretty much convinced he livesat the hospital full time. He didn't have an IV and he wore a regular jacket.He also seemed to be the captain of the room. He turned the TV on and off atthe appropriate times, and let me know when it was time to eat. He even bussedmy tray for me. At one point he swapped out my IV stand for a different one. Iwas a little miffed at first but then realized my old one didn't have a littletray for carrying stuff. (The new one, however, seemed to have bird droppingson it.)

I was visited laterthat day by my fellow teachers, who brought me sympathy, thousands of caloriesworth of desserts, and an envelope of money. One of them mentioned somethingabout a private room and my mind immediately went into overdrive. A privateroom? You mean I don't have to sleep in this respiratory quarantine room? I canhave privacy? Yes, please. And after another night of blast furnace heat andmoist hacking, I was able to move up one floor and into my own room.

After two days inthe lung ward, I was happy to be getting my own room. Although there weretwo beds, the second was unoccupied, leaving me in dreamy peace. I had my ownbathroom with shower, a closet for my clothes and quickly accumulating giftsand desserts, and even a small refrigerator. I was also pleased to find out thatthe quality of the food improved. It wasn't gourmet but at least it was ediblenow And best of all, I could turn the TV off. It was heaven.

Of course, heaven isn'tfree. I was paying around $70 a day for my privacy. The dorm room, on the otherhand, was essentially free, the price of the room included with the dailymedical fees. Thanks to nationalized health, this amounts to something like$5.00 a day. In a poor area like this, it makes sense that people would becrammed into small rooms to save money. It also makes sense giventhe Korean love of company. But if the Republicans ever need another scaretactic to keep people away from a nationalized health plan, a photograph of aKorean hospital room would be enough to keep people up at night.

Now that I wasgetting enough rest, I was able to get around more during the day. The doctortold me I needed to get some exercise so I dutifully did laps around thedarkened first floor of the hospital after dinner. I also exercised my right toleave the hospital and made trips to the convenient store across the street tostock up on necessities, like cookies and canned coffee. I also took occasionaltrips to my apartment, which was just across the street, to get fresh towelsand change the music in my iPhone. I should probably mention that I was stillplugged into the IV during these trips. I wasn't the only one out and about either.Patients in pajamas sucking down soju in the local restaurants, their IV standshovering over them like nervous parents, is a common site in my neighborhood.Don't mind me, just another patient on the lam.

The morning routine.

I quicklyestablished a daily routine. Get woken up at 5 am to take oral medicine. Fallback asleep and wake up again at 7 for breakfast. Eat very little of saidbreakfast, which is exactly the same spicy and garlicky food as lunch anddinner. After breakfast, wash my hair and sponge myself down, frowning at thesmell that will not, no matter how raw I scrub myself, go away. Next, drink acan of coffee and surf the Web on my iPad, and maybe play some Scrabble. Thattakes me to lunch, which I can eat more of than breakfast. In the afternoon Iwatch a movie that I rented from iTunes and maybe play some more Scrabble. Thenit's dinner and my walk around the first floor. Finally, a little TV and then tobed around 9.

The day was alsobroken up by visits from the nurses, who forced big turkey basters full ofantibiotics into my veins three times a day. This was my only discomfort, asthe medicine often burned going in. The nurses were delightful though and I didmy best to flirt with them. It helped pass the time and it also got me thingslike candy and fruit, which would be brought to me with smiles.

After 12 days, thedoctor declared me well enough to go home. I slept all day at home that day and then wasback to work the day after. Including the fever at the beginning, I wassick for around 3 weeks. I'm still getting my energy back, and still smartingfrom the hospital bill. I think about how cheap it would have been had I stuckit out in the lung ward, but then again I might still be there, roasting in theheat and nurturing a brand new case of tuberculosis. No, I made the rightdecision, expensive though it was.

Classroom Management

2011-11-12T01:53:00.001-08:00

The following piece was written for an essay contest held by EPIK, my employer here in Korea. I decided to write about classroom management, the hardest part for me of teaching in a high school.

The new English teacher in Korea faces all kinds of issuesin the classroom, from indifferent and tired students to indifferent and tiredco-teachers. As someone who had never taught before, my first year was spent justlearning how to plan effective lessons and find that elusive balance betweeneducation and entertainment. Hey, I like to have fun as much as my students.But one element had continued to elude me: classroom management. But, thanks totwo new policies, I have been able to more fully manage my classes and teachmore effectively.

I teach middle and high school boys in ruralGyeongsangbuk-do. My school is academically focused and for the most part Idon't have many problems with the students. They are a lot more driven tosucceed than I ever was at their age and they consistently impress me with theirdedication and discipline—in other people's classes, at least. In many of myclasses they were undisciplined and wild, seeing it as a time to cut loose, tolet off some steam in the middle of a pressure cooker day that starts early inthe morning and ends after midnight.

I sympathize with them, I really do. I could not imaginehaving to keep up the kind of academic pace they do. But I also did not flyhalf way around the world to be their punching bag. Don't get me wrong. I'm notthe kind of teacher that requires absolute silence. I like a little chaos inthe classroom; it keeps things interesting. But there's a level of respect thatI expect and for the most part, it wasn't being met.

I should stress that this was only an issue in high school.My middle school classes are largely free of these kinds of issues, for anumber of reasons. Co-teacher involvement plays a large part, I believe, and mymiddle school co-teacher is pretty strict. But it's also the studentsthemselves. I work with these kids in after-school classes and they'rerespectful and pay attention, for the most part. But they're also not under thesame kind of intense pressure that the high school students are, so there'sless of a need to go wild.

After a few particularly bad high school classes, in whichstudents were actually standing up and hitting each other while I waslecturing, I decided that I needed to make some changes. I first identified whatI thought the problems were so that I could find solutions. The common factorsamong the problem classes were uninvolved co-teachers and a large number ofclass clowns. It was a bad ratio. Other classes might have a lot of clowns but aninvolved co-teacher was there to temper their behavior. In another class, theco-teacher might be out to lunch but the class was generally low maintenance.Another problem, I have to admit, was myself. I had been waiting for theco-teacher to discipline the students, or the students to work it outthemselves, but this Zen approach only enabled their behavior. I at last cameto the realization that there must always be a boss in the classroom. If it'snot the teacher, it will be the students.

My first solution to becoming the boss was to implement a threestrikes policy. Any time the class is goofing off and not listening to me, ifstudents are standing or walking around, if students forget that this is indeedclass time, I write an X on the board. I don't yell, I don't make a big fuss aboutit, I just write it. They know what it means and will do my policing for me:they will tell whoever is talking to be quiet. Should the class end up withthree X's on the board, the entire class is punished. So far I've only had topunish one class and that involved everyone doing push-ups in the hall. Part ofthe punishment is that it's in a public space. They are embarrassed, andstudents in other classes know I'm serious about discipline.

The three strikes rule addresses the symptom, that beingunfocused students, but not the sickness, as it were. Why are the students notmotivated to pay attention in my classes? Because there's no specific academicreason to do so. They're not tested on the material I teach and it onlymarginally relates to their eventual college entrance exams. One reason themiddle school classes pay attention is because I teach from the textbook, andthe material covered is on their tests. But for high school I create my ownlessons unrelated to the material in the textbooks. Unless they have aninterest in English there's no reason for them to participate or even payattention.

The obvious solution would be to make my class countacademically, and this is just what I did. I approached my co-teachers andexplained the situation as I saw it, and asked if they would mind if Icontributed questions to the midterm and final exams. I had actually assumedthat they would not be interested, that they would have asked me to do italready if they were. But to my surprise they loved the idea and even praisedme for taking the initiative.

The change in my classrooms is like night and day. Betweenthe three strikes rule and the test questions, the students are much morebehaved. They're focused and contribute more to the class, even the classclowns. There's also a new and palpable level of respect towards me. I havebecome a real teacher in their eyes, not just the foreigner with the fun-timeclass. I feel more like a real teacher now as well, as what I say really countsin their lives. My teaching has become more academically oriented and I findmyself explaining grammatical concepts more.

Of course, they're still teenage boys and are prone togetting out of control. After a few weeks of paying attention, they forget. Butthe occasional X on the board serves to remind them that my policy is still inplace, and that I'm serious.

As my students have responded to my needs, so must I respondto theirs. I contributed questions to the recent midterm and they wereuniversally regarded as "too difficult." Even the top students hadtrouble with them (and were none too pleased with me for causing their scoresto be lower than usual). This is a learning experience for me as much as forthem. I have told them that because we don't use a book in my class, they musttake notes, and study them. But I have also made a concession to them: I willdevote the last class before the test to review so they have an idea of what tostudy.

Also, my head co-teacher has informed me than my questionsneed to be in a format that is more like the other questions on the test, whichare reading-based. I had a hard time agreeing to this. Why should form dictatecontent on a test? I don't teach a reading class so why should my questions bereading based? But we have come to an agreement. I will create dialogues forthe test based on the lessons. The questions will be long and thus conform towhat the principal expects. I still think it's silly but I am willing toconform to what my school requires.

I have come a long way since I started at my school more than a year ago. Ihave gone from green and inexperienced to, well, slightly less inexperienced.But through trial and error, and with the help of my co-teachers, I havearrived at a place where I can feel good about what I'm doing here. Thanks tothese two solutions—the three strikes policy and making my classes countacademically—my classes run more smoothly and I'm able to more effectively dowhat I was brought over here to do: namely, teach.

A Year In Korea

2011-08-19T21:24:00.000-07:00

This week marks one year in Korea. I feel like this sort of momentous occasion demands a blog post (which I haven't really been updating lately) but I'm having a hard time coming up with something to write about. Yes, I've been in Korea for a year but what does that mean, other than a marking of the passage of time? What have I learned, if anything?

The biggest change for me lately hasn't been personal but technological. In the space of about two weeks I got not only an iPhone but an iPad. I'm actually writing this on my iPad right now. Although I have a wireless keyboard for this purpose I though I'd try writing on the screen to see how it goes. It's surprisingly not that bad. My two-finger typing style is well-suited to this hybrid texting style of writing. So far the hardest part is remembering where all the punctuation is, as most of it is hidden in a sub-keyboard under the qwerty keyboard.

But what does this have to do with Korea? Not much, other than the fact that it's my job in Korea that has allowed me these technological luxuries. I suppose this is the biggest achievement of the year: that I finally have the kind of extra income that allows me these fun toys. Of course, I still have debt but thanks to a nice year-end bonus coming my way I will soon be putting a big hole in that.

With one year ending, it's also time to think about the year that is beginning. This will likely be my last year in Korea. Japan and graduate school beckon. I want to make the most of this year. If I don't start planning trips now I know that soon the cool fall will give way to a freezing winter and I will sit in my apartment for 6 months. Likewise for spring next year. I will be pouring over my travel books in the next few months.

I would also like to improve my proficiency in Korean but at the same time I'm going to need to start refreshing my Japanese. Is there room in my life for both? We shall see.

So, one year in Korea and not much to report, other than new toys. Looks like I'm badly in need of a mystical and wonderful experience. It's waiting out there for me. OK, here I come.

One More Year—And Then After That?

2011-05-14T23:12:00.000-07:00

I did it. I signed up for another year at Hamchang School. That means I'll be here until at least August 2012. I'll get a monthly raise as well as a bonus for re-signing.

What'll I do after that though? I'm not sure. There are lots of things I want to do in the future.

Eventually I want to be teaching at a Japanese university. That means a masters at least, and a doctorate at best. I've been looking at a Japanese studies program at Sophia in Tokyo. I'm particularly interested in Japanese yokai (goblins) and ghosts and such and am hoping to write my thesis on that. Also, the program offers Japanese-language courses for no additional charge, as you're expected to do your thesis research in Japanese. Thankfully you don't have to write it in Japanese.

I also want to achieve some kind of fluency in Korean. Maybe I'll get to a level that I'm happy with by August 2012, or maybe self-study won't ever cut it. I've been looking at the language program at Yonsei University in Seoul. I could study there full-time for 6 months before going over to Japan if I decide it's what I want. It seems strange to study Korean and then leave, but it will help me achieve a long-standing goal of wanting to learn Korean.

The other thing I want to do is travel, particularly around South East Asia. I don't know if I would want to do it for 6 months but for a few months at least.

Or who knows, maybe I'll end up teaching in Korea longer than another year. Whatever path I choose, it will be an exciting and rewarding adventure.

The Wedding

2011-04-18T00:54:00.001-07:00

The call came at 9:30, Sunday morning.

"Adam, are you bored?" It was my co-teacher, Mr. Lee. "Come to the wedding today!"

I hadn't been awake long enough to determine if I was bored or not but I certainly wasn't going to pass on the opportunity to go to a Korean wedding. Weddings, along with funerals and birthday parties, are the ceremonies that mark important moments in our lives. Every culture has a unique way of going about them. I had yet to experience a Korean wedding, so I got my suit out of the back of the closet, shaved and prepared for what I hoped would be a memorable event.

The wedding was being held in what appeared to be a city building put up in the 1950s. Every floor was packed with men in suits, simultaneously shaking hands and bowing. Older women in hanbok (traditional Korean dress) floated back and forth, while young people in jeans and tracksuits obediently nipped at the heels of their elders.

We followed the flow of people up to the third floor, passing what appeared to be a cafeteria. I had been promised lunch and wondered if this staid place, with its dim lighting and hunched over diners, was going to be it. But no time to ponder, for we were climbing again.

I spotted familiar faces milling around in the foyer and, having already lost my co-teacher, made a beeline for them. All of us teachers and school administrative staff had gathered to witness (or so I thought) the wedding of the daughter of Mr. Kim, the Japanese teacher, who often gave me a ride to school in the morning. After saying hello to everyone, I went over and shook Mr. Kim's hand, and congratulated him in Korean and Japanese, just to be safe.

There was a wedding already in progress on the other side of a glass partition, and I couldn't tell if this was Mr. Kim's party or not. Intriguingly, two majorettes in full uniform and tall hats ran past me and into the hall, taking their places on the red carpet. A guest was standing on the trail of the bride's wedding dress. No one seemed to be moving. I watched some of the other teachers take a few tentative steps into the wedding hall, look around, and then come back out. Apparently this was not Mr. Kim's affair. They were double-booked.

I popped into the bathroom to relieve myself before our ceremony started and when I had come back out, everyone was gone. I panicked momentarily but then caught sight of Mr. Lee, who lead me not into the wedding room but back down the stairs and outside.

"Is that it?" I asked him. "No wedding ceremony?"

"Now we eat," he said by way of explanation.

And so we all got into our cars, having been at the wedding building for a grand total of 10 minutes, and drove to the outskirts of town where we ate beef and drank. The wedding party never even showed.

The Schedule

2011-04-14T17:54:00.000-07:00

This semester I am decidedly more busy than last semester. It has nothing to do with being used to teaching yet or not (I am). What's making things more busy is I have agreed to teach evening classes. From Monday to Thursday, I teach either a middle school or a high school conversation class at 7:10pm. This means I am at school for pretty much 12 hours a day, four of the five work days a week. Hence, busy.

I am getting paid overtime for these classes, which I appreciate. The other thing I appreciate is how being at school for longer hours makes me feel like I'm more of a real member of staff and not just the foreigner that arrives after everyone later and leaves before everyone else. Now I'm just like them, overworked and tired all the time.

Being at school late also gives me more chances to talk to the students, both in my evening classes and outside. The students are here all the time. Many live in the dorms and so study in class until all hours of the night. The more I'm here, the more comfortable we are around each other, and the more we talk. It's fun getting to know them; they're hilarious.

What I don't like about this schedule, though, which should come as no surprise, is how tired I am all the time. Because of bus schedules I often don't get home until 9pm. Sometimes I walk home for the exercise, as I don't have time for the gym during the week now, and end up home at the same time, but it's hard to walk for 45 minutes after being at work for 12 hours.

After a month of this schedule I'm finally getting used to it, mentally if not yet physically. I'm very overdue for a trip to the gym this weekend. My creative side has been atrophying as well. Hopefully I can do some writing or maybe even work on some music this weekend—anything other than lesson plan. I am very much looking forward to midterms next week. Finally, a break from lesson planning.

Korean Coffee Conundrum

2011-03-16T17:11:00.000-07:00

I like coffee. I suppose I could also say that I need coffee. But let's not get into whether I am or am not addicted to coffee (am) but rather get into the meat of this thing: the coffee in Korea sucks. It's not like there's a lack of it either. There's actually a surprising surfeit of coffee. No matter where you go, no matter how small the hamlet, there will be coffee at every turn. And all of it will be swill.

Surely I'm exaggerating, you say. I wish to God that I were. The situation is incredibly dire. No, really. I don't often use words like "dire" but it describes the coffee situation in Korea perfectly, I believe.

Allow me to explain.

Although you might think of Korea as being primarily a tea-drinking country, being part of Asia and all that, the country has taken to coffee in a big way. There are coffee shops and cafes everywhere. Even my small town of Jeomchon has at least five places that I can think of that serve coffee. Go to a big city like Seoul and you can't stumble 10 feet without passing another coffee joint. So what's my beef, with so much coffee around? The coffee is invariably going to be bad.

Let's start with the big cities. Seoul has seemingly billions of variations on Starbucks, all with circular logos and frothy lattes and all that other unnecessary coffee claptrap. I don't drink that stuff. I like drip coffee, and I like it black. That means that I actually taste the coffee, not the syrup and the whipped cream and the fireworks and whatever else they're going to dump in there. I want a cup of coffee, not another meal. And when Starbucks is considered the top of the line, it goes downhill quickly.

This is assuming I can find drip coffee at all. Most places don't serve drip; they only serve espresso. This means I usually have to resort to drinking an Americano if I want something resembling a cup of coffee. Even coffee places that profess to serve drip, and have the hardware to do so, often don't even brew it. I can recall asking for a cup of drip in Seoul at 8 in the morning and being told they were "sold out." Right. You never even bothered to brew it. In my town there are exactly zero places that will brew a cup of coffee. Aside from my kitchen, of course.

But far and away, the majority of coffee consumed in Korea is of the instant variety. Pretty much any business has a small machine that, with the press of a button, will fill a Dixie cup with coffee, milk and sugar. Always with milk and sugar. Anytime you have the occasion to wait for some service—at the bank, while getting a prescription filled, at the mechanic—a cup of this "coffee" will invariably be pressed into your hand.

My school used to have one of these machines but it has recently been replaced with packets of instant coffee that also contains milk and sugar. My fellow teachers have given up offering it to me, as they do to everyone else, because I am lactose intolerant and thus can't drink it. This is always embarrassing at a business because it appears I am refusing their hospitality when I don't drink the instant coffee. For that is really what this is about, hospitality. It's a small symbol of the bond that unites the people in a community. I would love to partake of this bond. I would happily do my part and drink this sour, so-called coffee if it weren't for the built-in milk. I tried it a few times. The results were catastrophic.

I hope and pray that single press coffee will make it to Korea in a big and affordable way ($10 for a cup at a Seoul hotel doesn't count). In the meantime I will drink Americanos and politely refuse the instant coffee, bonds be damned.

Japan

2011-03-15T23:44:00.000-07:00

From the NY Times.

It's been a rough week. But not nearly as rough a week as it has been for the millions of Japanese affected by the earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster still unfolding in Japan's north east. For me, it's been tough watching the footage of all the devastation, reading tweets and Facebook updates and looking at pictures online. It's a mixture of sadness, helplessness and, I have to say, a little bit of relief, because I very well could have been right there where the tsunami hit.

I applied to JET last year, as readers of this blog will know. My top choice was Sendai, what turned out to be one of the hardest hit cities. I could have been there when the earthquake and tsunami hit. I could have lost my apartment and all my possessions, like one JET teacher apparently did. But, had things gone differently, I would also be there right now, possibly helping in the relief effort. It's hard to look at pictures from so far away and not be able to help out. I donated to the Japan Society Relief Fund (and I encourage you to do the same; the box to the right of this story will take you to their site) but it still doesn't feel like enough.

I had pretty much decided I'd be staying in Korea for another year before this disaster struck. But I for sure won't be going to Japan for any length of time for awhile. Japanese nationals are being sent to foreign branches of companies to work. Friends of mine who were scheduled to go to Japan to teach English or go to school have been told to stay home. Of course, not all of Japan has been affected by this disaster but I imagine that ESL positions will suffer nation-wide. Priorities rightly will be shifted for probably years.

For now, I will continue to enjoy living in and exploring Korea, and I will continue to hope that the Japanese people are able to overcome this tragedy quickly.

A New Semester

2011-03-09T18:16:00.000-08:00

Today is one of my periodic desk-warming days. I don't have any classes to teach (they're giving mock college entrance exams all day) but I still have to come to school, so I'm just wearing a groove in my chair and looking for things to do on the computer. I brought the book I'm currently working through, "The Museum of Innocence," but despite a strong start I'm having trouble with the long, slow middle part. I'm even contemplating giving up on it but I don't have another book waiting in the wings. Let's see, today I've already looked over the lessons for next week, gone to the school store for an orange juice, drank honey water with some other teachers in my office, ordered some books from What the Book? to replace the one I'm tired of, and even updated my bookmarks in Firefox.

Hence the blog post.

It's a new semester here at Hamchang Middle and High School. I made it through the first week with no real problems to speak of. This is a far cry from my first week last semester, which involved technical difficulties, student difficulties and general difficulties related to working again after years of being in school. Now I have all around Teacher Confidence. I can navigate my way around the in-class video and audio systems, I can effectively teach, control and entertain students of all ages, and no longer get tired after a day of teaching. I do have a cold, but that's to be expected as I get one pretty much every month.

My schedule this semester is a bit different from last semester. I'm not teaching the third-year high school students at all. The first-year high school students are not broken up by ability this year, and to fill out my schedule I'm teaching each of the four first-year classes twice a week. I don't really mind as I like this group of students. I had a number of them over the break in my "winter camp" so I already know some of them as well. The other big change this semester is I'm teaching two teacher classes. Twice a week I'm teaching English conversation to any teacher that wants to learn to speak English. I've had one class already and am really looking forward to working with people who want to learn, rather than have to learn. I'm also going to be teaching evening and Saturday classes for overtime. It's going to be physically demanding, with long hours doing the week and the loss of every other Saturday, but the money will be good, and I think the added time with students and other teachers will be good for my own feeling of belonging, something I struggle with.

Overall, I'm feeling really good about this semester. I've been given a little more autonomy, now that I have some experience, and with all of the new teachers that arrived this term I'm not the newbie anymore. Some of the new, young teachers even defer to me as a senior, which goes a long way in reinforcing in myself a sense a confidence. I don't feel like the useless foreigner in the corner anymore. I feel like the useful foreigner in the corner.

And you know what? I may just sign up for a second year after all.

Noraebang Insanity

2011-03-05T15:59:00.000-08:00

Friday night was the first teacher dinner of the new semester. I've been to enough teacher dinners now that I know what to expect, and know how to navigate all of the little rituals that transpire. If you've never been to a traditional Korean restaurant, you might not know that you sit on the floor in front of a low table, and you usually cook your own food over a gas burner. This time we had pork and duck, the latter of which was really spicy and rich. There's also a lot of drinking, of course, and although everyone encourages you to drink a lot, if you're not in the mood to drink they'll understand if you refuse politely.

Friday night I was drinking beer. I was enjoying myself but not "going for it" like I did at the previous teacher dinner, when I was drinking both beer and soju, the local rice wine. That night was fun but I really paid for it the next day. This dinner, like the dinner before, ended early and most everyone headed to the noraebang after.

Noraebang means "sing room," and from that you can probably guess that it's karaoke. Noraebangs are extremely popular in Korea. They're everywhere. In fact, there are so many that often the owners will hire touts to drive around, looking for revelers, and offer to drive them to their noraebang. You get a private room with couches, food and drink, two microphones, plenty of tambourines, and of course ear-splitting music.

This semester, our school got 11 new teachers, most of whom are under 30. This has resulted in a fantastic influx of young energy into the school, which can be a little on the "mature" side (yours truly included, of course). At dinner they shouted when they clinked glasses, and at the noraebang they quickly took control, cramming into the small space in front of the video monitor that displays the song lyrics and going crazy.

Come on feel the norae.

This is not to say that the older teachers don't get into it. This is my third time going to a noraebang with my school and people get down every time. Last time, I was twisting with an English teacher while the other teachers were pretty much moshing down front. Case in point: that's our school principle right at the center of the mosh pit in the above picture. But these new teachers, well, they know how to party.

Having been to a few of these events before, I knew I was expected to sing a song. I chose "Girl" by The Beatles, not the best song for my (horrible) voice but the perfect song for the situation. I had noticed that the four new female teachers were all lined up against the wall, so when I grabbed the mic and took my place down front I essentially had four back-up singers at my side. So when I sang the chorus, "Ah girl..." I would motion to them with my hand, and they would sing harmony.

I hung around for another hour or so and then, tired of drinking and the loud music, I walked home. It was a 45-minute walk through the fields but the stars were out and it wasn't too cold. A very nice night here in rural Korea.

Ultra Brothers Versus The Space Monsters

2011-02-27T02:09:00.000-08:00

The Most Beautiful Place in Jeomchon

2011-02-22T17:55:00.000-08:00

The other day we were blessed with really nice weather, so I decided to seize the opportunity to get out of my apartment and take a walk. While walking, I noticed a little temple perched high on a hill. I spent much of that walk just trying to find the path at the base of the hill, and when I finally had I really had to go to the bathroom. The next day, I came back to discover this:

This is the rock that marks the entrance to Cheonhungsa. Just behind the rock, and past the small pavilion on the right is a stairway leading up the side of the mountain.

Keep climbing and you'll reach the temple grounds, which are cut into the side of the hill.

It's the most beautiful place I've found in Jeomchon. Granted, there isn't much else to challenge this title. In fact, I was surprised to find anything of beauty at all here. I will definitely visit this little temple again.

The Giant Encyclopedia of Ultraman Monsters: Monsters Charge!

2011-02-18T20:42:00.000-08:00

In Praise of Laver

2011-02-18T16:10:00.000-08:00

I came back from the Lunar New Year holiday to find a large box on my desk. It was big and yet very light. "What could be inside?" I wondered, but not out loud because talking to yourself is usually not a good idea. I carried it home on the bus, opened it up, and found:

Lots and lots of dried seaweed, or what is commonly called laver. No, I had never heard this word before coming to Asia, either. I always just called it nori, which is the Japanese. In Korean it's kim, as in "kimbap," or seaweed rice. See how that works?

Anyway, what would I ever need this much seaweed for? Don't get me wrong, I like seaweed. I've eaten it many times with sushi and even occasionally on spaghetti in Japan. But an entire box? Seems a little excessive.

Koreans eat laver in more ways than the Japanese do, it seems. Koreans eat it with rice, using their chopsticks to fold the seaweed sheet over some rice. They'll even eat it as a snack with alcohol, as is. All are good. But again, how am I ever going to consume all of this seaweed?

How indeed. These are, of course, the words of someone who has not yet consumed this particular brand of seaweed. Since opening a pack and eating the contents with rice, I have realized just how wonderful seaweed can be. I am now orienting my meals around the seaweed, it's so good.

I'd say come on over and have some with me, but I don't think I have enough for two. Sorry.

The Snake Cult of Beppu

2011-02-07T23:33:00.000-08:00

Just a castle?

It was two years ago that I first heard rumor of a castle in Beppu. I was preparing to leave Oita after a year of studying Japanese there. Beppu, the next town up the line, was famous for its hot springs but it apparently also had a castle. Odd this, as it was never a castle town. Had some millionaire decided to erect his own castle and infuse it with his own, bizarre personality? Alas, I was too busy with preparations for leaving to find out.

Fate (and some time off from work) brought me back to Oita for a week, and I was determined this time to find that elusive castle. Whether historical recreation or vanity project, I just had to see it. Like Americans and their love for roadside attractions, the Japanese are not above building shrines or landmarks that bare little to no resemblance to accepted reality.

"Does Beppu have a castle?" I asked the woman behind the counter at the little tourist office in front of Beppu Station.

"Well, not a real one," she answered, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

"That's the one!"

With map in hand, I boarded a bus bound for Kifunejo, something like High-class Boat Castle. What would I find, I wondered. What lay before me? There was no way I could have prepared myself for what was to come.

I got off the bus at the stop marked on the map and started up the steep hill towards the castle. The bus stop was named for the castle, and there were plenty of signs along the way. This was a bigger deal than I thought. Strange that I hadn't heard of it long ago. Why the secrecy, I wondered.

I reached the top of the hill, huffing and puffing, and paused to take a look at the castle. Although small, with only three stories, it was indeed a normal-looking castle. Someone had obviously spent a lot of money to erect this here. Still wondering why, I paid my 300-yen entrance fee (around $3.00) and headed for the entrance.

I had paused there momentarily to catch my breath, as I was still wheezing from the climb, when a man started beckoning me inside. I tried to tell him in Japanese to wait a minute but he kept insisting. Strange to be so insistent, I thought. I took off my shoes at the entrance, not unheard of for original castles, and followed him inside.

Most castle interiors follow one of two plans: original castles are left as-is. They are largely empty inside, being built to withstand sieges and not for everyday living. Recreations usually have museums inside. You follow the museum plan up and up, eventually reaching the top. This was different. The entire first floor looked like the lobby of a mountain lodge, complete with exposed wooden beams, furniture like couches and chairs, and even European-style paintings hanging on the walls. One entire wall was taken up by an open stage, on which was placed a shrine. This was not your typical castle.

Just like home.

Take it to the stage.

The man made a beeline for a small door directly across the open room from the shrine stage. He opened the door, which was only a few feet high, and then started to descend a ladder into a kind of pit. I hope he doesn't expect me to follow him, I thought, feeling a little weirded out by all that was happening.

Is that an albino snake or are you just happy to see me?

And then he emerged with a snake. A large, white snake. It was some kind of albino python. Still sitting inside the little door, he placed it on the ground and let it slither around. He was talking non-stop in Japanese and I only caught the occasional, "This is a snake. Mr. Snake. You know snakes?" I smiled gamely and nodded.

"Touch it!" he demanded. I hesitated and he said it again. I reached out my hand to lightly touch the pinkish-white scales. "Touch it!" he said, even more loudly, and brought his hand down on mine, pressing my hand onto the hard, muscular snake. Alarm bells started going off in my head and I pulled back. This was decidedly odd and I really wanted to get away from this snake-obsessed man, so I backed up, a smile frozen to my face. He must have seen the panic in my eyes because he said something about taking pictures inside the castle being OK and then disappeared back into the snake pit.

The upstairs shrine.

I rushed up the stairs, happy to be free from the snake man. On the top floor was another shrine, this one with what looked like two massive, origami snakes draped over either end of a narrow table. There was a picture of an older lady holding an albino snake on a nearby shelf, the date marked 1990. They must really like snakes here, I thought. I walked around on the outside of the top level, a little concerned at how rickety the construction was, and then went back down to the first floor, ready to leave.

As I came down the stairs, I heard the voice of the snake man, praying. There, sitting on the ground in front of the snake pit, were four people, all in their 20s or early 30s. They were kneeling with their eyes tightly closed, their hands clasped in prayer. The snake slithered disinterestedly around their legs. I couldn't believe it—they were praying to the snake. I dared to get a little closer, hoping to maybe take a picture, and an old lady sitting to one side noticed me and motioned me to join them.

There are few things in this life I wanted less than to join them. I was overcome by the strangeness of it all and went into flight mode, my only desire to get away from this scene and outside. I rushed out, the sound of the man's intoning voice retreating behind me. At last, I was outside, the wind of freedom on my face. I kept going a good 30 feet away from the castle before I stopped and turned around.

Yes, that's a dead snake under the glass.

And that's when I noticed it. The shrine that was right at the entrance to the castle was no ordinary shrine. Sitting inside was a large glass case. And inside the large glass case was a very big, very white dead snake. My body shuddered involuntarily and I turned away from the castle, wanting only to get back on the bus and away from the insanity.

Riding the bus back down the hill, surrounded by the comforting sight of people going about their daily routines, it occurred to me that I may have witnessed a fertility rite. Certainly the color and shape of the snake suggested the male member. And I couldn't say for sure—I was too flabbergasted at the time to notice—but it may have been two couples praying over the snake.

Perhaps the snake man assumed I had come there not as a fan of Japanese castles but as a man wanting to increase his virility. I hadn't touched the snake with enough passion, so he pressed my hand down even more. I wouldn't say it was virility coursing through me at that moment, not unless virility feels a lot like panic.

Japan has quite a few "fringe" religions that combine elements of Shinto, Buddhism and whatever else seems appropriate, like extreme cleanliness or fear of lasers. With the odd hodgepodge of items in that castle, I wouldn't be surprised if this weren't some kind of cult. The fact that the castle was attached to a house is pretty odd. I guess the recruits need a place to sleep in-between praying to the pink behemoth.

The funny thing is, not a few hours after touching Mr. Snake I had a very unexpected romantic encounter. Coincidence? Only the Snake Cult of Beppu knows for sure.

No Phone For You

2011-01-22T16:03:00.000-08:00

The Fist of English.

We're currently between semesters at my school. The Korean school year is kind of odd. There's almost 4 months of classes in the fall and winter, and then between New Year and March 1 the students are at school but there aren't really classes, per se. They're just there. This happens again in the summer. I suppose studying is a full-time job.

Right now I'm teaching some of the incoming high school freshmen. They're all brand new to the school, having not gone to our middle school. This is immediately apparent as their behavior is—how shall I put it?—a little lacking. They're hilarious and keep me laughing from bell to bell but they don't always exhibit model behavior. This is especially apparent when it comes to cell phones. I had never seen a phone in one of our middle school classes until these new students arrived. They just can't keep them in their pockets.

It's all the usual distractions: text messages, Internet, games. Plus they have Japanese comics downloaded onto their phones. The other day I saw a kid looking at his lap so I sauntered over and caught him with his phone. "Don't play games in class," I told him, sternly. "No game! No game!" he protested. "Reading comics."

All of the teachers carry around "teaching sticks," big honking sticks that they swat the kids with when they get out of line. The swatting ranges from playful to possibly illegal. Corporal punishment is on its way out in the school system but for teachers who grew up with it, and students who know only one kind of discipline, it's slow to die. I disagree with hitting kids, and it's just not my style to carry around a bat, so instead I bought a big novelty fist that squeaks when you bop something with it. It's harmless and funny but it presents a visual that says, "I'm a person of authority." It's also embarrassing to a student who gets a squeaky bop in class. Lately there's been a lot of phone-related bopping.

I don't know if these new students are being so cavalier because it's technically between semesters, or if their previous schools were really permissive, but this is just annoying. I have warned them about phones in class. I have bopped heads. I have even confiscated phones. But they're addicted, it seems.

"I'm nice," I told them. "But be careful when you get upstairs and take real high school classes. Those teachers aren't nice." And it's true. They will not suffer phones in class. These kids are in for a rude awakening in a few weeks.

And The DJ

2011-01-21T20:47:00.000-08:00

I recently posted a YouTube clip of "Panic," a song by the 80s British band The Smiths, to my Facebook page along with the confession that when I was young I thought the lyrics went, "And the DJ, and the DJ." A silly thing to think, for the song is famous—even infamous—for advocating listeners to "hang the DJ." My confession was met with incredulity, a little scorn, and astonishment, this last one from my high school girlfriend, with whom I shared a particular passion for this band.

"But I was only 14," I responded defensively. And the song might be famous now for that lyric—indeed, entire articles have been written about it—but when I was listening to The Smiths or any other music in my teens, it was in a void, with no markers to guide me or signposts to show me the way. I had only my exploding interest in unusual music and my own fervent imagination to guide me. In the UK, The Smiths were massively popular, their every release a cause for celebration. But in Foster City, a small suburb outside San Francisco, they were known only by a few, and loved by even fewer.

Nowadays, young people have the Internet to turn to for information. Indeed, anything you could ever want to know about anyone, at any time, is there. But in my youth, we had to rely on books and magazines purchased in the faraway Big City, or on word of mouth from similarly minded friends. So it's no surprise that I should mistake that lyric, or any other, because lyrics to our favorite songs were not easily obtained. In those days, there was less certainty but certainly more mystery.

Spurned on by its mystery, music was my everything. I remember being so besotted with a certain song, I constructed an entire lesson plan in my head for my English teacher to use, one involving us choosing the lyrics from a piece of music to offer as a modern equivalent of poetry, just so I could tell someone, anyone, how much it touched me. And I would listen to music on my cassette Walkman on the bus every day, my favorite songs soundtracking my young and confusing life.

But I never even dared try to listen to music in class.

In my day all we had in our pockets was our house key (if we hadn't forgotten it somewhere) and maybe a crumpled-up note from our best friend. Today's Korean young are overwhelmed with privilege. They have cell phones and MP3 players, electronic dictionaries and mini-TVs, often all one and the same. And they all seem to think they should be allowed to access any of them at any time in class, the teacher be damned. For all of the much-lauded Korean respect for teachers and the system of discipline in place, these students get away with some things that would have gotten us sent to the principal's office back in the day: things like drawing on desks, constantly getting up and walking around, and listening to music in class.

They think they're being sneaky. They look around to make sure no one is watching and then they slide their ear buds in. Maybe they'll pull up a hood or rearrange their hair to cover their ears. And then they spend a considerable amount of time staring at their laps and moving their fingers. Or maybe they'll make a small consent to authority and only block up one ear. But no matter how you look at, they've tuned the teacher out.

As a first-time teacher, I really have no idea what's going on. I'm just trying to keep it all together while creating lesson plans from scratch, trying to manage the time so we get through everything in the lesson, and trying to keep the class from devolving into an indoor riot. So when I see students do things like plug into their MP3 players, it drives me crazy. I'm doing my best to reach them. They don't have to like it but they do have to listen. Am I really so boring that the first chance they get they want to tune me out?

Throughout all of this, I have been thinking of my students as these incredibly young people. They are kids, of course, and range in Korean age (that being one or two more years than everywhere else) from 13 to 20. My first-year middle school kids are as child-like as you can get. They love professional wrestling and candy, and collapse on the floor in laughter when someone farts. My senior high school students are men in almost every sense of the word bar the legal. Very few are shorter than I am. But they're still kids compared to me.

But what about me when I was in middle school or high school? Was I ever like this? Did I run to the school store between classes for candy, or horse around with friends in class, or willfully ignore the teacher to look at something a friend had brought to school? Did I have bad days and resent the teachers, even the ones I liked? Did I sometimes wish I could be anywhere but that class, my hormones driving my emotions into the red? Did I even cut class one time, just once, because a cute, older girl asked me to cut with her?

Of course I did, and I was a good student. I was a good kid.

But I have also always been me. It's hard to separate the now me from the then me, the 38-year-old me from the 14-year-old me who spent hours listening to music from England and reading weird books bought in Haight Street bookstores. My personality is largely unchanged, now as then. I am still overly sensitive, prone to solitude and intensely fond of music. But I am also patient, weathered and mellow, things that I have arrived at only after taking the trip that has been my life.

I try my best to be a good teacher. While other native teachers just play games, or try to get by on the most minimal of lesson planning, I like to think I go the extra mile. I left a previous job as a magazine editor to go back to school so that I could teach English in Asia. As fun as writing was, it just wasn't rewarding enough. I wanted a job where I was giving back to the world in some way, contributing to the better good. I imagined myself answering students' questions, being there for them when they had hard questions, and enjoying the camaraderie between student and teacher. All of my romantic fantasies featured angelic, smiling students, with not one challenging delinquent among them.

However. Life is not a dream, despite what some poets might have you believe. Reality is a messy thing. And the reality of teaching is even messier.

There's a tendency when teaching to focus on the bad students. A class is made up of many different kinds of people. There's the good students, who sit in the front and always pay attention. After class they offer to carry my laptop or buy me juice, and tell me how much they like my class. There are the class clowns, who like to participate whether or not they have any idea what the answer is, just as long as they can say it loudly. There are the precocious students who know English but don't want to do it my way, who challenge what I say at every step. Mostly they drive me crazy but I also secretly love them because they're exercising critical thinking skills, however crudely. And there are the students who just don't care, for whatever reason. Maybe they're math whizzes but they stink at English, so they sleep or read or talk. It is a room of individuals, each thinking differently, with different goals and ambitions.

Because we expend so much energy on dealing with the problem kids, it's easy to generalize the whole class based on them: to see the class as a unit. For example, my 1-4 class is terrible. Their English ability is low so they don't care, and often resort to mimicking me. A downside of this is that I find myself not trying as hard with this class. They don't care so why should I? I dumb-down their lessons and often entertain the idea of abandoning lessons altogether in favor of games with minimal English. But a class is not a discreet unit. And when I fall into thinking of it as such I have effectively abandoned the good students in that problem class.

I have also abandoned the bad students. Like those students who just want to listen to music, these "bad students" that drive me so crazy are people, just like me. But they are not patient and weathered and mellow. They are emotional and annoyed and occasionally angry. I saw one boy give a co-teacher an intense look of hatred and then storm out of class. I couldn't believe it. But they are also sometimes funny and mischievous and, I believe, really want to be respected.

There's one student in my 1-4 class who has been trouble since the beginning. This is, however, partly my fault. He is the "king" of class, I have been told by the other students, and will always raise his hand even when he doesn't know the answer. On one of the first days, I rebuked his enthusiasm with a dismissive, "Not you." What I should have said, of course, was, "Let's give someone else a chance." But I didn't. And what resulted was a power struggle that waged for months.

I still don't understand his motivations. For the most part we are friends now. I encourage his enthusiasm and depend on him to keep the class in line, for the other students seem to respect his authority. But he also pushes mine on occasion.

"Hello, Adam," he said to me in the hall one day.

"Adam Teacher," I corrected, hoping to be thought of in the same way as the Korean teachers, whose names are always appended with sangseongnim (which can mean either "sir" or "teacher," it seems).

"Adam Student," he retorted, a mischievous smile on his face.

Of course he was joking but he was closer to the mark than he may have realized. Although I was hired to be a teacher to these boys, in many ways I am their student. And not just because I am a first-time teacher going through what is effectively on-the-job training. It's more than that. They're teaching me about life. And, strangely enough, about death.

I'm almost 40. I have never been married. I don't have any children. Until recently, I never even thought about my own mortality. The fact that the human race might continue after my death had never really occurred to me. Call it profound selfishness or just an unwillingness to look beyond my own ego. I suppose most people realize this when they have progeny; staring into the face of their own flesh and blood, they know that this miniature version of themselves, different yet somehow the same, will carry on living after they're gone.

Not me. I have no spawn, no Mini Me. Until coming to Korea, I had very little contact with young people at all. But these kids, these students I see everyday, will still be chugging along, living and laughing and loving long after I'm gone. I'm not so vain to think that their weekly interaction with me with blow their minds enough to make an impression that will last a lifetime, but if even just a few remember one thing I say to them, that will be enough.

When I was 14, there was a substitute teacher who would occasionally teach at our school. His name was Don Gross, and he was the coolest adult I had ever met. He wore Doc Martens boots and Levis jeans, and thrift store sweaters. He had unkempt hair and published books of poetry through City Lights, the same company that published Allen Ginsberg's "Howl."

He didn't even talk like an adult, at least not like any adult I had ever met. I remember the first time he taught at our school, he was filling in for an absent English teacher. He had to give us a lesson on superfluous commas and so started with a justification for why we should care about such a thing. No teacher had ever bothered to justify English for us before, ever. And yet here he was, trying to convince us why this dry grammar lesson mattered.

"Let's say you've got a good job for an advertising agency," he started, leaning against the big desk at the front of the room. "Things are going really well. You get to fly all around the world first class and write advertising copy. What you write is really well received and you're like a star. You get to hang out with celebrities and famous sports players. It's the good life. But then one day you turn in some copy with a superfluous comma. Your boss fires you, and poof! Gone are the jets and the celebrities and sports stars. Your wife leaves you and you become an alcoholic and end up living on the streets. All because of that one superfluous comma."

He was making it up as he went along, of course. I'm sure he walked into our class that morning not having any idea what he was going to say. It may even have been his first time substitute teaching ever. But the point is that it was not only what he said, but the way in which he said it, that touched me. What he said moved me enough that I remember it to this day. Twenty-five years later I can still recall that off-the-cuff lecture on superfluous commas. And not only that, but I often think of it while I'm writing. I'm actually thinking of it right now, wondering if the commas I'm placing in this piece are really all necessary.

Of course, I'm hoping that I can make an impression on these students somehow. That something I say, some little bon mot about English will stick in the back of their mind and make itself useful sometime in the future, like during an interview for college, or during a job interview. Or even if it's just a smile that they remember, that will be fine.

The 14-year-old me who loved music passionately and didn't always pay attention in class is still here. He stands beside me everyday while I teach. He reminds me not to see the students sitting before me as a unified class, but as individuals. And he reminds me to cut the bad kids some slack, because they're just teenagers trying to make their own way in the world, and they really don't mean it, even if what they say does sometimes hurt. And he tells me to try to see things from their point of view. The dedication and determination of these kids astounds me. They study from morning until night, everyday. No wonder they're tired. No wonder they don't always pay attention, or get mouthy. I would too. I do, actually, and take it out on them sometimes. Only I get paid for it; they get punished for it.

And the 14-year-old me reminds me that it's not me that my students are tuning out when they try to listen to music in class, but music that they're tuning in. I saw a student that I had previously caught listening to music in the hall after class and asked to hear what he was listening to. "Korean hip-hop," he said, by way of excusing the music as not being of my taste. "That's OK, I said. "I'd like to hear it." The music was light and melodic, a world's difference from what I usually think of as hip-hop. "I love hip-hop," he said proudly as I handed the headphones back to him. "It's good," I replied, happy to have made a small connection with him. "It's really good."

This was my entry to a provincial essay contest. I don't think I won.

Korea On Its Own Terms

2011-01-21T20:20:00.000-08:00

You'd think I'd be familiar with culture shock by now, having lived overseas before. And I am. I'm familiar enough with that unwelcome house guest to know when it's moved in, but not familiar enough to know how to entice it to leave. But leave it will, and did, so now I can look at the mess it left behind and see what it all means.

I'm declaring myself free of Korean culture shock. For now. If I remember correctly from my year in Japan, culture shock has a nasty habit of dropping by unannounced just when you think you've gotten rid of it for good. Well, next time I'll be prepared.

So what have I learned? I have learned that I have to take Korea on its own terms. Generally when people experience culture shock they're fighting against the fact that their new host country is not like home. But for me, I was upset that Korea was not like Japan. I had adapted to Japan. I knew what to say when, what the cultural peculiarities were, and what the worse days to travel were. Now I was in a new country that looked a lot like Japan (and by rights should have been Japan, if JET had not forsaken me) but everything I knew was wrong. Speaking Japanese here was not only incorrect, it was likely to get me lynched.

Korea and Japan are similar, to an extent. Both have borrowed a lot from their neighbor, China, including bits of culture and elements of the language. Both are also hierarchical societies that stress seniority and deference to authority rather than individual will, and both have strong undercurrents of Confucianism running through them. The Japanese language is even considered to be an offshoot of Korean. But you would never confuse the two countries, just as you would never confuse France and Spain, or Germany and America, even though they share many similarities, both culturally and linguistically.

So I have come to learn. But not only have I learned it, I have accepted it, and doing this, embraced it. I don't want Korea to be Japan any more. I want Korea to be Korea, in all its messy, noisy glory. I am enjoying Korea for what it is. I am enjoying learning the language as well, which is close enough to Japanese that it's not a bear to learn but different enough that it's an ongoing, enjoyable challenge.

I look forward to what Korea has to show me next.

What, 40 Already?!

2010-12-21T16:16:00.000-08:00

Here's something unexpected: In Korea, you're already one year old on the day that you're born. They count gestation as life (don't let the right to lifers know) so newborns greet the world with a full year already under their belts. That is, if babies wore belts.

This is a fun fact, isn't it? What's not so fun: I have gone from 38 years old to 39 without the presents and the cake and the party. Even though I'm 38 back home, in Korea I'm almost 40. ALMOST 40. This is very unfair.

But wait, there's more: in Korea, seniority in everything is determined by age. If you're older, you're better. Doesn't matter how much of a knob you are. If you were born before the next guy, you win. Don't like it? Tough titty, that's the way it is.

To keep people from going nuts and getting really nitpicky about it, they let everyone born in the same year be of equal status. This has the added benefit of creating bonding opportunities for strangers. It doesn't matter if you have nothing else in common, if you were born in the same year you're instant best buds. Time to drink.

To make sure everyone born in the same year really understands that they're the same age, your age advances not on your birthday but on January 1. (Some will argue that it happens on the Lunar New Year.) This is all wonderful and fascinating but what it means to me is that on January 1 I will turn 40. Goddamn it!

See, I was born in 1972, making me 38 everywhere except Korea. My birthday is February 1, so everywhere except Korea I will turn 39 on February 1, 2011. But in wonderful, wacky Korea I am already 39 and thus will turn 40 on January 1, a full 13 goddamn months early. This does not please me.

But, I hear you saying, isn't being older a good thing in Korea? Doesn't that make you even more superior? No, it doesn't, because I'm a foreigner and therefore don't get to win at anything. I'm just a 40-year-old foreigner.

At least the kimchi is good.

The Year In Adam

2010-12-20T16:42:00.000-08:00

Photo credit Summer Shetenhelm

What an odd year, this 2010. I cannot recall a year with more ups and downs. Two years prior I was in Japan, studying the language and having what I have since called the best year of my life. And then 2009 I spent back in the Bay Area, depressed at having to come back from my beloved Japan, commuting long distances to school and feeling generally unmoored.

However, 2010 started on a high note. I finally finished at San Francisco State, with my graduation becoming official in January. After more than four years back in school, plus the three years at UC Santa Cruz in the early '90s, I had a bachelor's degree and could proudly call myself a college graduate. I cried the night of my last final. It was such a relief.

And then everything slowed down. For the first two or three months I did nothing. I poked around online, I downloaded music, I watched Netflix DVDs and waited to hear back from JET about whether I would be teaching in Japan come the fall. I stayed generally positive through the application and interview process, and managed to make it past the first round of cuts.

But then the real cutting began. At the end of March I went under the knife for the first of three surgeries on my feet. I had been putting off bunion surgery for years but with a (possibly permanent) overseas move looming I decided it was time to get it done. And then while laid up on the couch, with my feet propped in the air and dosed on pain killers, I got news that I was put on the waiting list for JET.

As the months and subsequent operations went on, and I still hadn't heard either way from JET, I began to get more and more depressed. I hardly left my room—I couldn't walk—and so I put on weight. By mid-summer I had watched all the movies I could stand, read more books than I had in years, and put a permanent, Adam-sized dent in the couch.

With the possibility of JET acceptance moving further and further away I started applying to other jobs, in both Japan and Korea. While lying on the couch, my feet in bandages, laptop balanced on my belly, I filled out application after application. I started obsessively checking e-mail for job interview requests, a few of which I took, suiting up late at night for Skype interviews. At last, I decided on a job with EPIK, teaching English in Korea.

With my feet still sore but declared healed by the doctor, I boarded a plane for Korea. Since coming, my depression has all but disappeared. I still have ups and downs, of course, but that crippling (get it?) sadness of the summer has thankfully stayed away. I am living my life at last, and even though it's not the life I imagined while in school it's still pretty damn good.

Bring it, 2011. I'm ready for a good, solid year.

The Drama Contest

2010-12-19T02:49:00.000-08:00

I was asked by one of my co-teachers to help choose four first-year high school students to act in an English drama contest. This was not long after I had just started. I didn't know any of the students yet; I barely even knew my co-teachers. But I dutifully wrote the script (a comedy about the end of the world) and selected a quartet of students with good English pronunciation. Little was I to know how close I would become to those students.

I work with more than 600 middle and high school boys. After three months, I can recognize most of them in the hall between classes but there are still times when a student bows to me and says hello and I have no idea who they are. Some students have graduated to the level of chit-chat. Their English is good enough that I'll joke with them before class. But do I consider it a personal relationship? Let's put it this way: they all know my name but I don't know any of theirs. It's a sad byproduct of a system in which I see many students but don't ever grade them. But with these four, who named their characters after themselves, I was very soon able to put name to face.

After a month of not very regular practice, interrupted by midterms and vacation time, the students managed to send in an audition video with literally minutes to spare. And then they were accepted to perform at the national finals in Gyeonggi-do. We were all ecstatic.

The night before the contest, we all piled into my co-teacher's Santa Fe SUV and made the four-hour drive north to Paju English Village, where the contest was taking place. I was forced to become better acquainted with my students on that trip, jammed into the back seat with them, their snacks and video games and cell phones piled high. We all shared a dorm room as well and I had the opportunity to get to know them even more, their personalities and quirks and dreams now separated from the rest of the horde of 600.

They didn't win that day, and I felt so bad for them, their disappointment so keen. But as we drove the long trip home, stacked on top of each other like broken Pepero sticks, I knew that I had won something that day, even if they had not.

This was written for the main EPIK website as an example of an "episode" from the life of an English teacher.

The Long View

2010-12-15T19:03:00.000-08:00

Moving to a foreign country is a chance to take yourself out of your comfort zone and experience things in a way you normally wouldn't. Notice that I said, "chance," as I definitely see this as a positive thing. Growth happens when you're challenged. Your muscles won't get bigger unless you stress them literally to the point of breaking and then allow them to rebuild. A similar thing happens when living in a foreign country: it hurts like hell while it's happening but afterwards you realize that you've grown from the experience and are just a little better off because of it.

I have lived overseas before. I spent a year studying the language in Japan and was often confronted with challenging and dismaying situations. Having met and surpassed them, I recognize that I have become a better person. This was on my mind when I signed up to teach English in Korea with the EPIK program. And being assigned to a small town in Gyeongsangbuk-do was even better: there was no way I could get through a year without experiencing some personal growth. This was not to be Seoul, where foreigners are a 100-won coin a dozen, and where familiar things are as nearby as the corner Starbucks. No, this was to be the countryside, where no one spoke English, where there were few if any familiar stores or products, and where things would be very different. In other words: pure, unadulterated Korea. I accepted the position with relish, welcoming the kinds of tests that I knew would make me a bolder and better man.

Romantic notions about personal growth and the cold, hard, day-to-day reality of life in Korea are, however, two very different things. I am well acquainted with that unwelcome houseguest called culture shock, who moves into your head and never really leaves, no matter how hard you try to evict him. I prepared myself for the little things and quietly set about conquering them one by one: a diet of spicy food that wrecked havoc on my digestive system; clothes that never seemed to dry, no matter how long they hung on the line; building management that was seemingly incapable of keeping a steady supply of gas flowing to my apartment; and suddenly going from 38 years old at home to 40 in Korea in a matter of months. All of this I could deal with, and did, largely in the public eye of my school. When the entire staff knows you've had chronic diarrhea—indeed, when the entire town knows—your skin gets thick pretty fast.

However, you cannot prepare yourself for everything.

At this point I should probably explain about my feet. I am not a sickly person. In fact, I have been blessed with pretty good health. I rarely get sick even when people are disgorging phlegm and collapsing in paroxysms all around me. I have never had a cavity and never broken a bone. But my feet, my poor feet. They crack, they pop, they're always sore. Although there's no history of it in my family, and although I have always worn comfortable shoes, I ended up with bunions. After putting off surgery for five years because of the horrendously long recovery time, I finally relented earlier this year and had my feet cut open, the bones broken and reset, and then put back together. The recovery time stretched out even longer when I developed complications and had to have additional surgery. All told, I was off my feet for around four months. And then I came to Korea.

I can't place the blame entirely for the problems that developed on this surgery. In fact, my doctor here tells me there's no connection at all. But like an old man who measures his days by his aches and pains, I just want to complain a little. And it sets the stage for what's to come.

Fifteen years ago I had surgery for an ingrown toenail. It was quick and somewhat painless and after a few days I stopped worrying about it. Until I arrived in Korea, that is. Granted, my toenails have bothered me off and on over the years but never badly enough to see a doctor about. But after a few days of walking around Jeonju, where I was attending EPIK orientation, I knew something was wrong. My right big toe was starting to hurt and there was a frighteningly yellow liquid oozing out from where the skin overlapped the nail. I would find out later that this was pus but at the time I didn't want to think about it. I hoped that if I just put it back in the shoe the issue would go away.

I finished orientation and moved on to my placement, a small town called Hamchang in northwest Gyeongbuk. I started teaching at Hamchang School, an all-boys school with both middle and high school classes. As a first-time teacher, I threw myself into my job: I planned lessons, I tried different teaching methods, I worried about how to manage classroom behavior, and I looked for resources and help online and asked for it from new teacher friends. And all the while, my toenail showed no sign of improvement. It wasn't killing me or anything, in fact the pain was quite manageable (more than some of my classes, even) but the issue was plainly not going to go away on its on. Finally, the day my health insurance paperwork arrived, I asked a co-teacher to take me to the hospital.

There is a giant, brand new hospital right across the street from my apartment. I often see patients trudging around the block, I.V. drip dragging behind them like an arthritic dog. The hospital entrance is so close I could even crawl there if I had to—which didn't seem all that far off the mark given the state of my big toe. Fearing for the worst but hoping for the best, I asked Mr. Lee to take me there.

Mr. Lee is one of my six co-teachers. He recently spent half a year in England learning new methods to teach English to second-language learners, so he knows what it means to live in a foreign country. Between him and Mr. Jang, my head co-teacher, I'm pretty much covered for whatever I may need. They've both lived in this area for most of their lives. In fact, they're both alumni of our school. There's very little they don't know about our area, and usually I defer to them on things like where to eat dinner or where to find the good bargains. But when it comes to my body, well, that's another story.

When you're sick, when there's something wrong, when you're in pain, you just want your mommy. If she's not available, you want whatever you're most familiar with and for Westerners that means big, shiny hospitals. Often the most harrowing travel stories are the ones that involve unplanned visits to strange hospitals and odd doctors. You might not remember exactly what you what you had for dinner that night in Cancun but you'll never be able to forget getting stitches when you cut your thumb trying to open an after-dinner Corona.

Mr. Lee really wanted me to go to a local doctor, one just down the street from school. Actually, one above the bus station. Bus station? "But there's a big new hospital right by my house," I protested. "It looks so clean from the outside. And there are no buses there." Mr. Lee insisted that the local doctor was more experienced than any hospital doctor, and was in fact something of a foot specialist.

So it was that I found myself being stared at in a country doctor's waiting room on the second floor of a bus station. I was motioned into the dimly lit doctor's office, which was more of a wide hallway than anything we might call an "office" or even a "room." Privacy is a concept seemingly not familiar to this corner of Korea and so all during my consultation other patients traipsed in and out of the examination room, coughing and wheezing and being generally unwell. I put my feet up on a table, the doctor said I didn't need surgery, his nurse swabbed it with iodine and wrapped it in gauze and they sent me on my way.

A few days later it started to bleed. After taking a look at my toe, which I was asked to display in the teacher's office, everyone agreed that I should get some medical treatment. Mr. Lee asked if I wanted to go back to his doctor and, assuming I definitely needed surgery now, and remembering the dark office and the Grand Central Station approach to privacy, I said I wanted to go to the big new hospital instead. "But my doctor has a lot of experience," Mr. Lee protested. "Hospital doctors are too young." No, no, I thought. I don't want some horse doctor carving up my toenail in barn-like darkness. Big new hospitals are better.

At the big new hospital, under bright lights and in complete privacy, sequestered away from all the expectorating elderly in the waiting room, a young doctor looked at my foot, thought for a few moments and then asked me pointedly if I thought I needed surgery. "Why are you asking me?" I sputtered out incredulously. "You're the doctor." He then had a long conversation with Mr. Lee in Korean, which could be summed up as, "Let's wait and see."

I did not feel comforted in the least bit. My toenail was still bleeding and all this young whippersnapper had done was push repeatedly on the side of the nail and make me howl. Mr. Lee shared my doubt in this youngster's skills as an M.D., so back we went to the country doctor. There, in the half-light of his hallway examination room, patients going back and forth like they were at the DMV, the country doctor explained to me that prevention was the best medicine, and that even if I had surgery the problem could recur again in as little as a month. His English was pretty good but I wanted to make sure I absolutely understood what he was saying so I asked him the same questions repeatedly in different ways, and he patiently answered them all. "The bleeding is a sign that the toenail is healing," he explained. That's all I needed to hear. My fears were finally allayed.

When I got back to school, my toe once again swabbed in iodine and wrapped in gauze, I relayed to Mr. Lee what the doctor had said. "You were right," I told him. "That doctor is great. He really made me feel at ease." And as Mr. Lee headed off to his next class, I added, "From now on, he's my doctor too."

Since then I have done my best to follow the doctor's orders and stay off my feet but this is not always possible. I'm living in a new country and want to experience all that it has to offer. When I stay at home at the weekends I feel hobbled and depressed, like I'm missing out on life. I see pictures of my friends on Facebook frolicking in Seoul and Busan and then feel sorry for myself and my bum toe.

Part of me wishes the doctor had just cut out the bad nail that day. Maybe it would have fixed it or maybe, like he told me, the problem would just recur again. Prevention is the best medicine, essentially. I'm trying to believe this is the case but it's hard for me, as this notion is all but lost in the West where quick fixes rule the day. We can't imagine waiting for anything, not even our own bodies. I cut my finger the other night trying to open a package with a pair of scissors and became extremely worried when the cut hadn't completely closed up by the next day. Ultimately, we'd rather go through the pain of surgery now and get a quick fix than wait for something to heal on its own.

"Koreans don't like to harm their bodies," Mr. Lee explained to me. "You know Confucianism? Our bodies are gifts from our parents, whom Confucianism teaches us to revere. We should not do anything to harm this gift." This is essentially what the country doctor told me too. Western doctors are so quick to suggest surgery, even when it might not be necessary. But wait a minute. Wait a month. Wait and see.

Recently the toenail has gotten a lot better, although it's not perfectly healed just yet. It sounds like it's going to be a long process, more of a change in lifestyle than anything a quick surgery could fix. "Actually," I thought to myself the other evening while I was poking at the nail to see if it had healed, "isn't that a lot like my desire for self-growth?" Korea is not a quick fix for whatever ails my soul. It's not going to slap a band-aid on me and send me on my way like a Western doctor. Korea requires the long view.

And what a view it is, too.

This was my entry to the 2010 EPIK essay contest. I didn't win. If the subject of the essay seems familiar, it should: it's an extension of a previous blog post, entitled Changing The Way I Look At Things.

In Praise Of Ondol

2010-12-12T18:19:00.000-08:00

Behold, the ondol floor in my apartment.

China usually gets the accolades for having invented things before everyone else but Korea is no slouch either. Aside from movable metal type, which Korea perfected 200 years before Gutenberg, there's central heating. Called ondol in Korean, heat is distributed evenly under the floors throughout the house, creating a cozy and warm atmosphere that is (no fooling) absolutely wonderful.

It makes sense that Korea would come up with this. Koreans spend a lot of time on the floor. Traditionally, this is where they slept, on futon-like mats called yo. Tables are often built low as well. In my apartment, I sit on the floor on flat pillows to eat. You'll see this in restaurants too. With all this living on the floor, it just makes sense that this is where the heat would be.

Traditionally, heat was dispersed by burning wood or coal in a furnace, and the smoke would be funneled under the floor, where it would warm stones. This served a dual purpose of cooling in the summer, as the stones tended to stay cool under the floor. Of course, the system wasn't perfect, with some spots being warmer than others, and leaking smoke causing carbon monoxide poisoning. In modern buildings, hot water is forced through pipes coiled under the floor.

This morning, I woke up around 5 to use the bathroom. Before falling back asleep I turned on the ondol. An hour later I was gently awoken by the heat rising through the bottom of my bed. It was perhaps the coziest I had ever been. When I stepped out of bed my feet were greeted with a warm floor and the heat continued into the kitchen, which has the same wood grain-like flooring.

However, there are drawbacks. There is no ondol in the bathroom. With no vent system to push hot air into the bathroom it stays cold all the time. Also, gas is used to heat the water in the ondol pipes and gas is expensive in Korea. My apartment is pretty big as well. I bought a space heater to try and cut down on ondol usage but it's just not the same. Also, it takes a while to heat up, and if you fall asleep without setting the timer you wake up in a sauna.

Unless, of course, that's what you're after.

Adam Has To Desk Warm

2010-11-30T16:03:00.000-08:00

Desk warming. It's a term that may be exclusive to the ESL community. It means having to come to school and sit at your desk even when there's nothing else to do, often during school vacation time when everyone else—students and teachers alike—are on break. We as foreign teachers are contracted differently from the Korean teachers, with different vacation schedules, and so we come to a barren, abandoned school and mess around online all day while everyone else takes nice, long vacations.

This video, done as part of the "Downfall" series where people re-subtitle a section of the film about Hitler's last days, encapsulates the situation perfectly.

Right now I'm looking at 2 weeks of desk warming because the students are taking finals, but starting at the end of December there's something like 6 weeks of vacation and I expect a lot of that will be spent desk warming. The frustrating thing is I don't even know how much of it I'm expected to do.

Winter break starts December 30. I know I'll be getting a few days off for the Solar (Gregorian) New Year but then I imagine I'll be back at school on January 3rd to start desk warming. I have been told that for the last 2 weeks of January I have to take a bus everyday to Sangju, 20 kilometers away, to run what they call English camp. No, it's not camping out in the cold, thankfully, but it means teaching a class full of students I have never met English for 4 hours a day, by myself. This actually won't be that bad, with games and movies taking up most of the day.

That takes me up to the beginning of February, when I'll get another few days off for the Lunar New Year, which is February 3rd this year. Then there is inexplicably a week of school, from February 7-11, and then another 2 weeks off, during which I imagine I'll also be desk warming. Then the new semester starts on February 28.

According to my contract, I get 10 days paid vacation during the winter. I have asked when that is going to be because it would be nice to, you know, plan something but I have been told that the school cannot plan that far ahead. No, seriously. Basically, I have to sit around until someone tells me (likely the day before) that it's time to take my vacation.

I feel Hitler's pain, I really do.

Gaya Kingdom

2010-11-22T16:51:00.000-08:00

The little town where I teach, Hamchang, isn't even a real city. It's designated as an eup, which I think is more like a village or a hamlet. Anyway, it's definitely not a city, which is shi. It's a tiny little town, this Hamchang. I don't even live here, I just teach here. But from the roof of my school, I noticed something out of place, something that belies this area's past.

This is the tomb of King Taejo, the founder of Goryeong Gaya, one of the city states of the Gaya Confederacy. I confess that before coming here I didn't know that there ever was a Gaya Confederacy. As far as I knew, this was always Shilla territory. Shilla was one of the three kingdoms that vowed for domination of the Korean peninsula in the first half of the first millennium. But while Shilla was growing to the east, the Gaya Confederacy fluorished right here.

The city state eventually fell to the Shilla kingdom, as did all of Gaya. Later, during the Joseon era, this tomb was discovered and statues put up to honor the king. I think the chair is a recent addition.

The burial mound has a few other shrine buildings around it which are obviously used by the locals for things other than worship. This one had persimmon slices drying on a mat, and an old metal desk parked inexplicably in the back. Oddly enough, there was English signage, as well as Japanese. It's said that Gaya metal-smithing was particularly advanced, and items were sold to Yamato in Japan.

Pretty cool that something so important is right in my backyard.

You can see more pictures from this excursion at Facebook.

The Mythical Sick Day

2010-11-17T16:40:00.000-08:00

I have a cold. It's not a terrible cold, not by any stretch. I can remain upright with little or no difficulty and can occasionally breathe through my nose without sounding like a sucking gun shot wound. All I need is a little rest, a day or so lying in bed, drinking orange juice and watching TV. But that's not going to happen.

My contract with EPIK says I get 11 sick days a year. There are all kinds of addendums to this, such as needing a note from a doctor after being absent from so many days, and how many days I can miss and still get paid for them, and so on. It's all very usual and proper and expected for a job. And it's all complete crap.

No one takes a day off at my school. You're sick, you come to work. If you're too sick to work, you go to the hospital and get a shot of vitamins in your ass and ride that vitamin high until the end of the day. I suppose if your eyes fell out or a lung popped out of your mouth they might let you go home after lunch, but really it's very frowned upon.

Not to mention inconsiderate of other teachers, as there's no system set up to accomodate illness. There are no substitute teachers. If you miss a day, the entire schedule gets reorganized so other teachers can cover your classes. And so everyone works sick. The students too all seem to come to class sick. They cough and sneeze all over the class, or sit with their foreheads against their desks, the other kids covering for them by saying, "He very sick." My God, kid, stay home. But no, you can't.

Last year (before I was here) Korea was gripped by H1N1 terror. People were terrified of getting swine flu. Events were canceled and people were really scared. If people had just been allowed to stay home when they got sick maybe there wouldn't be so much virus walking around the country.

I have been told that the reason I have not been able to kick this cold yet is because Korean colds are stronger than other colds. I have also been told it is because I don't exercise enough (any opportunity to get in a dig about my weight...). I retort that if I could just stay home for a day and rest it would magically disappear. Your body needs rest to effectively fight off the invading sickness, etc., etc. They only look at me and smile at my delusion.

Coming to work sick shows solidarity with the group. The woman who sits next to me has been sneezing and sniffling for months now. One of my co-teachers is sick every other week. I was told that the previous native English teacher did a good job, for the most part, but he took a few sick days and tut tut tut.

I wonder how hard I'd have to cough to pop out a lung. I could use the rest.

Korean Alcohols I Have Known And Loved

2010-10-22T06:15:00.000-07:00

Korea loves to drink. Korea loves a good bargain. Therefore, Korean alcohol is cheap. This works out well if you're more interested in trying alcohol than enjoying it. In my two months here I have made it a point to try different alcohols. Here's what I've imbibed (in alphabetical order for no good reason):

Cafri
Cafri is fake Corona. Or possibly fake San Miguel, which is the Philippines' fake Corona. It is drinkable like Corona and forgettable like Corona.

Cass 2X
There are three main beer companies in Korea, Hite, O.B. and Cass. This is Cass' 2X beer, which is pretty much a useless brew because it only has 2.9% alcohol while all other Korean beers sit in the 5% range. The text on the can says (in English): "Extreme and exclusive beer for the explosive minds." Perhaps my mind wasn't explosive enough to understand it.

Cass Fresh
As you can see from the picture, Cass Fresh is the "Sound of vitality." In this case, vitality is carbonation. Cass is highly carbonated. It's the Fresca of beers.

Cass Red
If Cass Fresh is the Fresca of beers, then Cass Red is the Mountain Dew. With an alcohol content of 6.9% and a surprisingly sweet flavor, it's designed for getting the job done as quickly as possible. Seemingly only available at convenient stories.

Hite
Hite is far and away the most popular beer in Korea. It's what most restaurants serve, either on tap or in bottles. It's bland like most Korean beers, which are brewed with rice as a main ingredient. That being said, Korean beer tastes really good when paired with Korean food, or when mixed with soju, Korea's answer to vodka. (Mixing beer and soju, called some in Korean, is not recommended for beginners and often results in hand-holding with your male co-teachers and dreams in which you've woken up from a black-out to find your arms covered with Korean prison tattoos.)

No, your eyes do not deceive you. That is beer in a plastic bottle. And yes, it tastes terrible that way.

Hite D
I'm actually drinking this right now. And not only because of the taste, which is strikingly similar to what you or I would call "beer." It's also because I prefer to "Refresh your spirits. Break away from the daily grind. Hite D is brewed with our exclusive Dry Finish process using the select dry yeast."

Foreigners like to joke that Hite rhymes with shite.

Makgeoli
This is makgeoli, an unfiltered rice wine not unlike nigorizake, if you know what that is. It's cloudy and sweet and, well, comes in a plastic bottle. It's apparently popular with young people and farmers, and I read it's got a following in Tokyo as well (but then again what doesn't). This particular bottle was around $1.50, carbonated (not common) and nasty. I'm ready to be converted, really, but this brand isn't going to do it.

Max
Max is a sub-brand of Hite. Foreigners seem to like it but there's something odd about Max to me. It tastes like they added some artificial citrus flavoring or something. That won't stop me from drinking it if I'm out and that's what they have on tap but you won't find me kicking it at the Family Mart with a 1000ml plastic bottle of Max. At least, not any more.

Pitcher
This, dear readers, is a pitcher of beer. It holds 5000ml of beer. That's 5 liters. It's almost too much. You're really working to get that last liter down.

Bokbunjaju Black Raspberry Wine
Koreans make alcohol out of all kinds of things, including black raspberries. This is actually really delicious and is a lot more like grape wine than I expected. It's sweet but not cloyingly so, like a dessert wine. (A friend warned me to stay away from this brand, the most common, as people have gotten sick from it. Oops.)

Soju
Here it is: soju, the national drink of Korea. What vodka is to Russia, sake is to Japan, and wine coolers are to teenage girls, this fine drink is to the Land of Morning Calm. It doesn't always come in a juice box but I'm partial to booze served in child-size portions. Man do I miss drinking Oni Koroshi sake from a juice box in Japan. Anyway, soju tastes like sweet, sweet lighter fluid and will knock you on your can. I avoid it as much as possible.

Style S
This is diet beer. With fiber in it. It tastes like liquid smoke. I bought a six pack of it. I'm an idiot.

Tesco Imported Premium Lager
My local grocery store is somehow related to Tesco, the UK supermarket chain. This is nice in that I have access to decent breakfast cereal and spaghetti sauce. I also have access to stuff like this. I bought it because it says, "Continental strength." So exotic. So forgettable. So Tesco.

And there you have it. Quantity over quality. Power over finesse. Me over the toilet bowl. Thank you and good night.

DJ's Take Control

2010-10-12T22:06:00.000-07:00

I like teaching. For the most part. I have one class that's been a real challenge. All of my classes have their share of class clowns but, for the most part, I'm in on the joke. I think their antics are hilarious and as long as it doesn't derail the class, I love it. But that one class, oh man. There are two kids who sit in the back and run things. I'm not in on the joke—I'm the butt of the joke. And for 6 weeks I've been putting up with it because I ~~didn't really know what to do~~ was intimidated.

Standing in that class, my high school days came rushing back to me. Suddenly there I was, powerless to stop some cool kid from stepping on my shoes or making fun of me in the halls. All I could do was smile like a chump and hope he went away. And that's what I was doing in this class, and as long as I kept it up they would never respect me.

So today I decided it was time to take control.

All morning, I started chanting "I'm the boss" in my head. Pretty soon it had a backing beat, a steady house kick and Chicago acid house bass line. The voice dropped an octave and started to sound pretty scary. There was no way these punks could mess with a song like this.

It's the same tactic I would take when DJing and I was losing the crowd. Did I flounder around, worried that I was losing control and hope they would come back to me? Sometimes. But usually I would grow a pair, throw on a kick-ass record and command the crowd to come back.

Here's how I did it with my class:

The first thing I did was make everyone stand up. Now they were awake. I made them say what their favorite song was and wouldn't let them sit until they had said it. Power was thus transferred back to me.

Next, I made sure my Korean co-teacher was very involved. My first-grade high school classes are organized by ability. This class isn't the lowest but they act like it, and I'm pretty sure the other teachers treat them like it too. So I made sure my co-teacher did a lot of translating. The kids stayed more interested. I mean, it makes sense. You'd get bored and start goofing off too after 10 minutes of not understanding what was being said. The teacher seemed to like being involved too.

Third, I tried to make the lesson interesting. The topic was idioms in pop music, so I showed a few music videos, including a Korean one (Wonder Girls' "Nobody") and one that has been turned into a Korean song and is currently a huge hit (B.o.B's "Nothin' On You"). I had a game in the middle of the lesson and a few group activities. They stayed active and focused and then the class was over.

I don't know if I have their respect yet but I certainly have my self-respect back. And if they step out of line again I won't be afraid to discipline them. First, those two clowns are getting separated. Next, they have to stand in the hall. And if that doesn't work, well, there are Korean teachers ready to discipline them who are a hell of a lot meaner than I am.

Nana Everywhere

2010-10-10T18:00:00.000-07:00

My grandmother, whom we called Nana, was one of a kind. She grew up on a farm in the Ozarks in Missouri, near the Alabama border, the daughter of a Scottish immigrant and a Cherokee woman. As long as I knew her (she died in 2004) she favored the same style: bold print polyester shirts and slacks, her hair cut short, permed and dyed black. She didn't really look like anyone else's grandmother. She had her own style. Nana style.

Nana with my brother and I in the late '90s. By this time she had pretty much stopped dying her hair.

So imagine my surprise when I arrived in Korea and found that my Nana's style was the style for old ladies. And when I say the style, I mean it. There is no variation. All of the halmoni (grandmothers) here dye their hair black and wear it short and permed, and they favor bold print shirts and slacks. They're even her same size: tiny! My Nana is everywhere.

Nana style at the bus stop.

I really miss my Nana. She and my grandfather, whom we called Joe, lived nearby, so my brother and I often stayed with them while my parents went out of town. We were pretty close, and since she passed there's been a Nana-shaped hole in my life. But now I can see her everyday.

It's wonderful.

Signs That Signify Nothing

2010-10-10T01:40:00.001-07:00

So there I was, waiting for the bus to take me school. I almost didn't see it, the English writing on the back of the person in front of me. English is so ubiquitous on clothes here I don't even bother to read it any more, funny though it can be in a nonsensical way. But this was not nonsensical. This made a whole lot of sense. Here's what it said:

H.R. – Throat
Dr. Know – Guitar
Darryl – Bass
Earl – Drums

In case you don't know, this is the credits text from a Bad Brains album. And in case you don't know, Bad Brains are an incredibly influential black, Rastafarian hardcore punk band from D.C. who released albums in the early '80s. What is a twentysomething Korean out in the boonies doing with a Bad Brains shirt? What, indeed.

Here's the shirt.

It was put out by an American skateboard clothing company called Supreme a few years ago. The brand is popular in Japan, where it has more stores than in the US. Apparently it's also popular in Korea. I've noticed a lot of my students wearing the brand. Supreme is legit, and chooses bands and artists like Bad Brains and The Clash that it considers important for its clothes. The bands themselves often supply the artwork.

The choice of Bad Brains for a skateboard company is obvious. That it should be popular in rural Korea, where no one skates, let alone listens to early '80s hardcore punk, is not so obvious. And here's where the bizarre part of globalization comes in: the brand itself is popular, no matter what is on the shirt. A brand that specializes in repurposing classic album art and band logos as a kind of homage has become popular with people who have no idea who these bands are. It's like buying a painting—an expensive painting—because you like the frame.

For someone like me, who is familiar with Bad Brains, seeing a piece of their album replicated on the back of a T-shirt invokes a very specific reaction. But for the person who bought the shirt because of the brand? There is no reaction. To them, it's a sign that signifies nothing. It's just another part of the riot of meaningless English that swirls before them every day. I would have a hard time paying a premium price for what amounts to a fake Bad Brains shirt when I know I could get a cheaper version elsewhere. But to pay a lot of money for something that you don't even understand, with no emotional attachment to at all? That just boggles my mind.

Now if you'll excuse me I've just seen a cool shirt with Chinese characters on it that I want to buy.

Changing The Way I Look At Things

2010-10-08T17:27:00.000-07:00

One of my reasons for coming to Korea was to have my perceptions challenged. Living in a country as different from America as Korea is a great way to challenge the way I think about things. On paper. When you're actually living through such an experience it's like having your teeth pulled—you recognize on some level that it's good for you but it's hard to see that through the blinding pain.

I recently had an issue with an ingrown toenail. It's been an ongoing issue, actually, but I didn't have time to take care of it before leaving the US. That's a shame because I had been seeing a really good podiatrist for bunion surgery. Actually, I think it's because of the bunion surgery, and having limited mobility for almost 4 months, that when I arrived in Korea and started walking a lot the toenail problem came back with a vengeance. I won't disgust you with the nasty, infected details but after a month of walking around in pain, waiting for my health insurance to be processed, by the time I was able to see a doctor things had gotten pretty bad.

The bus terminal, where my new doctor's office is.

I asked an English-speaking co-teacher to take me to the big new hospital by my house to have this taken care of. I assumed it would require surgery, having had a similar problem on the left side 15 or so years ago. But my co-teacher insisted on taking me to see his doctor, who, it turns out, practices in a dimly lit office above the bus station down the street from our school. Privacy is a concept not familiar to Koreans and so all during my consultation other patients traipsed in and out of the examination room, which was more of a wide hallway than anything else. I put my feet up on a table, the doctor said I didn't need surgery, his nurse swabbed it with iodine and wrapped it in gauze and they sent me on my way.

A few days later it started to bleed. After taking a look at my toe, which I was asked to display in the teacher's office, everyone agreed that I should get that nastiness taken care of. My co-teacher asked if I wanted to go back to his doctor and, assuming I now needed surgery and remembering the office and the Grand Central Station approach to privacy, I said I wanted to go to the big new hospital. "But my doctor has a lot of experience," my co-teacher insisted. "Hospital doctors are young." No, no, I thought. I don't want some horse doctor yanking on my toenail in barn-like darkness. Big new hospitals are better.

At the big new hospital, under bright lights and in complete privacy, a young doctor looked at my foot, thought for a few moments and then asked me if I wanted surgery. "Why are you asking me?" I sputtered out. "You're the doctor." He then had a long conversation with my co-teacher in Korean, which could be summed up as, "Let's wait and see." I did not feel comforted in the least bit, and my co-teacher doubted this youngster's skills as an MD, so back we went to the country doctor. There, in the half-light of his hallway examination room, the country doctor explained to me that prevention was the best medicine, and that even if I had surgery the problem could recur again in as little as a month. His English was pretty good but I wanted to make sure I absolutely understood what he was saying so I asked him the same questions repeatedly in different ways, and he patiently answered them all. "The bleeding is a sign that the toenail is healing," he explained. That's all I needed to hear. My fears were allayed.

When I got back to school, my toe once again swabbed in iodine and wrapped in gauze, I relayed to my co-teacher what the doctor had said. "You were right," I told him. "That doctor is great. He really made me feel at ease." And as my co-teacher headed off to his next class, I added, "From now on, he's my doctor too."

Things I Have Mostly Gotten Used To

2010-09-30T17:51:00.000-07:00

News flash: Korea does things differently than America. Duh, right? Except that when you live here, even though on some rational level you understand that there are differences, on a purely reactive level there are some things you just can't get past. Or so I thought. When I first arrived there were a number of things that I figured I would never adjust to, but here I am a month later pretty much adjusted (or at least resigned) to those very things I thought would bug me forever. This doesn't mean I have embraced them, of course, but they no longer piss me off so much.

Specifics, you ask for? Ask and ye shall receive:

1. Cars on the sidewalk.
Korea is not necessarily bereft of parking spaces, although I wouldn't say it's blessed with them either. But whether spaces or no, Korean drivers will pull their car onto the sidewalk and park it there. They even occasionally drive down the sidewalk looking for a space to get back on the road. Never mind that you might be walking on the sidewalk. Bob and weave, bob and weave.

2. Pedestrians never have the right of way. Never.
Which brings me to number 2. Whether you're crossing the street, walking on the sidewalk or watching TV in your home, you will never have the right of way. If there's any kind of motorized vehicle present, whether that be a luxury Hyundai with dealer door ding protectors still attached, a delivery scooter or an old man on a tractor, you're assed out. My recommendation? Practice a sideways dive and roll, and remember: your biggest threat may be behind you.

3. Cutting in line.
Koreans may take their sweet-ass time when they mosey down the sidewalk, linked arm-in-arm with 15 of the closest friends, but come time to get in line and they're in front of you before you realize you've been punked. And it's not just the old folks, who, in a hierarchical society, are now enjoying the fruits of being on top. No, it's just about anyone. I've been told that Koreans have less personal space than Westerners and so stand closer in line (which is hilarious when you're waiting for the ATM and the person behind you is practically wearing your pants) but even when I'm dry humping the counter at the head of the line someone will still manage to get in front of me. All I can do is laugh. They obviously want it more than me.

4. The toilet paper garbage can.
Korea may have one of the largest economies on earth, and boasts a large-screen HD TV for every citizen (I assume) but it has miserable plumbing. Even though it's called toilet paper it's not allowed in the toilet. It goes in an open garbage can next to the toilet. An exposed can of literally shitty toilet paper. Next to you. And you put your own newly browned paper in there. With the other befouled paper. And Koreans think leaving a fan on at night will kill you. But hey, I hardly ever retch any more. Amazing what you can get used to.

5. The community bar of soap.
So you've just spent a good couple of minutes with your hand inside a waste basket full of other people's poop and now it's time to wash your hands with a communal bar of soap rammed onto the end of a metal stick. Does soap remain clean even after it's been touched by hundreds of poopy hands? I doubt it. And the fact that it's on a stick is hilarious. As if I would want to take that thing home with me. Good thing I'm not a germaphobe.

6. Wet bathrooms.
The shower in a Korean bathroom is not partitioned off from the rest of the bathroom. It's right out in the open. You take a shower, the bathroom takes a shower. This is fine when you're as wet as everything else but when it comes time to dry off the presence of standing water makes the process difficult. So you stand there still partially wet while you do your getting-ready thing. My previous bathroom habits were based around being dry, which meant I could do things like wear pants while shaving, etc. Now I stand there naked and dripping. Why dripping? You try drying your feet and not getting the towel soaked in all the water on the floor. But I'm adapting, which means using a series of hand towels instead of one large towel. And accepting the fact that I'm going to be wet for awhile.

I was also going to write about eating kimchi and spicy food everyday, and while my mouth may have adapted to this culinary change, my bowels have not.

Things That Annoy Me About Korea

2010-09-28T20:49:00.000-07:00

I have been in Korea for a month, long enough to have become adjusted to the fact that I'm in a new country and become annoyed with some things. Maybe this is culture shock settling in. Or maybe this is just Korea being annoying. Here are the things that bug me most.

1. Look where you're going
Koreans do not pay attention to the people around them. They stop in the middle of the aisle at the grocery store, with their cart angled in such a way as to block the entire aisle, and talk on their phone. They park their cars on the sidewalk and block you when you're walking. They'll even throw water into your path from a doorway. It's bad enough out here in the sticks, but in Seoul, which is by some accounts the most densely populated city in the world, there's nowhere to turn. Human gridlock.

2. Korean beer
For a country that loves to drink beer (called "mekju" by the locals) they sure do like it bland. Granted, Korean beer tastes great with Korean food. The distinctly unhoppy flavor of the local brew is a good match for the red peppers Korean use to flavor their food. But sometimes I just want some good, flavorful beer. And apparently Koreans don't because—with a very few and expensive exceptions—you just can't find good beer here. Heineken is as "exotic" as they like it.

3. Sour face
I don't know what the reason is but so many people here seem to wear a sour face all the time. Maybe it's just the look that my presence elicits, but I swear, every shopkeeper, pedestrian and bus driver looks like they've just finished sucking on a bag of lemons.

4. Bus drivers
And speaking of bus drivers, hey Mr. Bus Driver, would it kill you to be nice? Just a little? I understand that you have a schedule to keep, and a confused foreigner on your bus might throw you off 5 seconds, but put yourself in my shoes. Imagine you're in a strange place, in the boonies, where you don’t speak the language. You need to rely on other things to survive, such as timetables and consistent routes. Not always stopping in the same berth at the terminal doesn't help, nor does laughing in the face of the foreigner who is trying to go home after a long day at work. So come on, give me a break. And a smile wouldn't hurt either.

5. Thanks for staring
I realize I really shouldn't complain about being stared at. I mean, I signed up to teach English in the Korean countryside. And I have yet to get a really hard stare out here like I get on the Seoul subway from old men. But here it isn't even just old people. It's everybody. Cab drivers will hang out their windows at the light and stare like I was a soju ad. Middle-aged women will stop chatting and watch me walk by. At least high school students giggle and say hi.

Korea, mildly annoying. Got to love it.

The Affordability of Korea

2010-09-27T21:37:00.000-07:00

Judging from my last post, you'd think I walked around Korea in a funk all the time, full of ennui at being alone. But there really is a lot here I like. I'm working in a great school with fun students and supportive co-teachers, and I make a great salary. And my salary goes far because Korea is splendidly affordable.

Before living in Korea, my experience with Asia was exclusively Japanese. And compared to Japan, anywhere on the planet is affordable. (Well, maybe not Norway.) But Korea is affordable pretty much anyway you look at it. A co-teacher remarked the other day that she heard movies were expensive in America. Still thinking in terms of Japanese prices (which range from $15 to $25 a ticket) I tried to say they weren't. But when she quoted the price of $7, well, I had to agree that that is cheaper than America.

Movie ticket prices are only the beginning. Public transportation is affordable too. Although my local bus is about what I'd expect ($1.50 a ride) I can take the express bus to Seoul for around $10. In fact, I could take the bullet train the length of the country for around $50.

Eating out is cheap as well. Unless you eat off the value menu at McDonald's, you'd have a hard time finding a good meal in America for less than $5.00 these days. But that's the rule here, not the exception. One of my favorite cheap meals is gimbap (like a sushi roll) from the supermarket. For only $2.00 I can buy way more than I can eat. Of course, these prices are for Korean menu items. If you want any kind of Western food, the price goes up a bit but it's still affordable. (Unless you're in Seoul, where the price automatically doubles. A good rule of thumb: no kimchi = twice as expensive.)

Even little things, like bottled water, are cheap. What would cost $1.00 at home is half the price here. The Korean version of onigiri (rice and meat wrapped in seaweed) is less than a dollar, half the price of Japan. And Japanese candy that would cost $3.00 in Japan is $.75 here. Granted, it's invariably a knock-off but it tastes exactly the same.

Electronics are affordable too. In Japan, prices are kept artificially high by the government, holding the consumer hostage. There are no low-priced Chinese goods, only locally made items. Korea keeps out the competition as well but thankfully offers lower priced items as well as luxury ones. I'm thinking specifically of rice cookers. You cannot live in Korea or Japan without a rice cooker but good luck finding a new one in Japan for less than $100. Here, I've got my eye on one for $50.

Of course, not everything is cheap. Going to the supermarket can put a good-sized dent in the bank account. And I don't mean just imported foods, which I would expect to be pricey. Chicken, which is the cheapest meat here, is about twice the price than at home. And toilet paper, my God. It's no wonder no public bathrooms stock TP when it's $15.00 for a family pack. We're spoiled in America in terms of grocery shopping, particularly for fruits and vegetables, which are hilariously expensive here. But if you want to buy locally made alcohol, you're in luck. A beer-sized bottle of soju is less than a buck, and makgeolli, something akin to nigorizake (unfiltered sake), is similarly priced. You can see where the priorities lie.

It's a pretty good deal all around. Korea may be one of the world's fastest growing economies but the prices are still low. Now if only they could get some decent beer.

Eating Alone

2010-09-19T18:19:00.000-07:00

I am often asked by Korean people who know that I have lived in Japan what some of the differences are between Japan and Korea. I usually mention that Koreans like to eat outdoors in groups, and that I think this is a really great custom. There are raised platforms and little gazebos everywhere, all set up so people will have a place to share a meal and conversation, seemingly one of the chief joys of life in Korea.

A meal and conversation. The two are inseparable. The act of eating is always done in a group. In fact, it is rare to ever be alone at all in Korea. From what I have observed, they really dislike it. And so it goes that the outsider is at a distinct disadvantage in Korea as so much of the culture is geared towards the shared group experience. Japan will never let the foreigner forget he is different; Korea has no room for anyone, foreigner or otherwise, who is on his own.

I had been living in a hotel for 3 weeks and thus had no way to cook my own food, so every night I wandered out into the streets in search of a restaurant. The first place I tried, which was shaped like a train and called Galaxy Express, seemed inviting enough until the waitress automatically set down two glasses of water at my table, even though I was obviously alone. It's not that she was mocking me—she just couldn't comprehend that I could be dining solo.

Another night I tried a "hof," the Korean word (borrowed from German) for a place that sells beer and food. Basically a Korean pub. After the flurry of confusion that erupted from a foreigner entering their business, I was sat at a table and given a menu. The prices seemed especially expensive and I feared that it was some sort of price extortion, like the snack bars in Japan. You want to drink? You pay for the privilege. But no, that's not Korea's style. The dishes were expensive because they were all for two. And again I felt all the more alone because of it.

I have finally moved into my own apartment (ironically located just behind Galaxy Express) and so I can start cooking for myself and thus avoid the pariah meal. And I have gone out to eat a number of times with co-workers and thus experienced the true Korean meal experience, complete with shared food and complex drinking etiquette, the latter of which will get an entire post of its own in the future.

And if I don't feel like cooking? I buy a premade sandwich from the convenient store and eat it at home, alone.

Welcome To My School

2010-09-15T19:01:00.000-07:00

I'm posting this from work. Normally this wouldn't be an acceptable use of my time but today the high school students are taking some kind of standardized test so I've been told I can sleep on my desk all day if I want. This is good news, as I went out drinking last night with some Korean co-teachers and was introduced to the wonders of so-me, a mix of soju and beer. I actually have to teach two middle school classes today but they're so much fun that shouldn't be a problem.

Anyway, let's take a tour of my school, Hamchang Middle and High School.

This is the main entrance. The school sits on top of a hill so the gate is down on the street, but this is the main building.

Here's the foyer. To the right are the administration office and the principal's office. I rarely see him, he's usually doing principal things in this office. I surmise, I really don't know what he does.

To the left is a hallway leading to the small library and the English Only Zone. The latter is a special English classroom that I occasionally teach in. In other schools, the EOZ is the permanent classroom for the native English teacher but here it isn't utilized all that much.

There's also an extra classroom that I don't think ever gets used. I took a picture because it'll give you an idea of what a typical classroom looks like here.

Here's a shot of the new gym, which is currently under construction. I have no idea when it will be completed. I didn't even know that I wouldn't be teaching any high school classes today until 8pm last night. Welcome to Korea.

This is the teachers' shoe cubby at the top of the stairs on the third floor. Everyone, students and teachers alike, changes into slippers when they arrive for school. You only take them off if you step onto dirt or leave the school. The students' cubbies are in their classrooms, as are their lockers. Unlike in America, where teachers stay put and students come to them, here it's the other way around. Students stay with the same group all day and the teachers go to them. So it makes sense for their lockers to be inside the room.

This is a student lounge area, located just to the right of the above teacher shoe cubby. Students do occasionally lounge here but usually they're so tired from studying a more apt name would be the student coma area.

This is the third-floor teacher's room. Usually there's at least one teacher in here. I'm not sure why it was so empty on this day.

Here's my desk. Instantly recognizable by the alien Apple computer. Korea has to be the least Mac OS-friendly country ever. If it's not a PC it's just baffling to most people here. (The students, however, ooh and ahh over my Mac. There's hope for this country yet.)

A shot of a third-floor hall. Shoe cubbies can also be outside a classroom.

The view from the stairwell.

From the roof looking south. Those train tracks will take you all the way to Pusan, Korea's second biggest city.

On the fourth-floor roof. It amazes me that this area is open to students, as is the fifth-floor roof (with the blue awning). In my day any dangers, such as that exposed rebar or the precipitous drop, would have been exploited by the students for maximum bullying potential.

Looking down from the fourth-floor roof at the music building (on the left) and the science building. The school cafeteria is on the first floor of the science building.

The school cafeteria in full swing. It's not all that big so they control the flow of students by grade. These are middle school students. And yes, there are two large HD TVs in here. It is Korea, after all.

A middle school class before the bell rings. They're remarkably well-behaved when I'm in the room. I can walk in to pandemonium, with kids in all sorts of gravity- and pain-defying positions, but as soon as they see me they sit down and get ready for class.

So there you go. Maybe next time I'll give you a tour of the town where I live.

A Long-Ass Post From A Small-Ass Place

2010-09-10T04:22:00.000-07:00

A lack of posts on this site should not be taken as an indication that there's nothing going on in my life worth blogging about. On the contrary, blog-worthy things are happening to me on an almost hourly basis. It's a little overwhelming. There's no way I'll be able to cover everything but I can at least give you an overview of what's happening in my life these days.

In a nutshell, I am now teaching English at an all-boys' middle and high school in the Korean countryside. Specifically, at Hamchang Middle and High School, in Hamchang, Gyeongsangbuk-do, population 8427. My school has around 600 students, 150 middle school and 450 high school students. I teach English to them all.

Not all at the same time, of course, although I have appeared before them en masse at a ceremony to welcome the new teachers (that would be me and a new middle school science teacher). No, I see each class once a week (and in a few cases, twice a week). My class is called "applied English." The rest of the week, they learn grammar and reading comprehension and other things that they can (and will) be tested on. My job is to make sure they can speak English too.

I have a Korean co-teacher for each class. This is the students' regular English teacher. Some like to be involved with my lessons, for a variety of reasons ranging from making sure the class understands what I'm saying to a desire to co-teach. Others are content to let me take the reins, plan the lesson and teach the class. I'm happy to teach in whatever way the co-teacher prefers. It's fun to plan a lesson and see it succeed but if it fails and it's just you bombing, it sucks. It's also nice to have some of the pressure taken off and let the Korean co-teacher lead the lesson.

The kids, for the most part, are great. They're enthusiastic, respectful and endearing. I've had students offer to carry my laptop, randomly buy me juice or give me candy, and pop into the teacher's room just to say hi. They all bow when they pass and say "hello" or the Korean equivalent, "anyeonghasseyo." In Korea, respect is automatically given to an elder, particularly to a teacher. In America, respect must be earned. Their automatic respect makes me want to be a better teacher for them, to try harder so I do not fail them. And of course respect goes both ways: when they bow to me at the beginning of class, I bow back (only not as deeply).

The school has been great to me. Aside from some confusion about what my relocation bonus is for (I say it's for me, they say it's to pay for my hotel while my apartment is being built) everything has gone smoothly. I started with a schedule of 22 classes per week, what I'm actually contracted to teach, but this was reduced to 20 after they saw how exhausted it was making me. They've also offered after-school classes to me at a higher rate of overtime than what I'm contracted for. And that new apartment? I'm still living in a love motel but once it's ready next week it'll be plush. A brand new one-bedroom apartment with a built-in 42" TV, laundry machine, balcony, and storage area. My school has even offered me use of a car.

All of the teachers have gone above and beyond for me but my vice principal has practically adopted me. There's a long and embarrassing story involving diarrhea and him paying for my doctor visit because I don't have medical insurance yet but I'll save that for another time. But for another example, yesterday I decided I would take a walk through our tiny town and take pictures of places for an upcoming lesson on giving directions. I pantomimed to him that I was going to go take pictures and he jumped up out of his desk and insisted he drive me. "No walk. Long course. I drive." I tried to refuse—he's the VP and obviously very busy—but there's no refusing this man. He borrowed a car from another teacher and off we went the three blocks to take pictures of the bank, police station and other places. When we got to the one grocery store in town he took me inside and made me pick out pastries and cookies and then bought them for me. Luckily Koreans are all about sharing food so I was tactfully able to avoid gaining 5 pounds that day by offering it to the other teachers.

I live in the next town over from Hamchang, called Jeomchon. It has a population of around 50,000 people and thus is not as rural as I was afraid it could be. It has a bus terminal and a train station, a Dunkin' Donuts, a Lotteria Burger (local fast food chain) and two Paris Baguettes (local bakery chain). There are no McDonalds, no Starbucks, no department stores or clubs. There isn't even a movie theater (the nearest one is over an hour away!). Outside of town is farmland and then big, beautiful mountains.

On the plus side, I'm located pretty much right in the middle of Korea. I'm two hours by bus from Seoul, and two hours by train to Daegu, Korea's third largest city. There are lots of small cities not too far away worth exploring, and even a few things in my own backyard that warrant a look-see.

Surprisingly, there are quite a few other foreigners in my town, something like 15 or 20. I seem to run into at least one a day. I was invited to a bi-monthly foreigner dinner party my first week so was able to get some good advice on where to go and all that. But it seems most everyone leaves town on the weekends, something I've already started doing. Last Saturday I went to Seoul and back to get some things for my computer (most people out here don't even know what Apple is) and buy some books. Tomorrow I'm training into Daegu for a haircut and a night out with other new EPIKers.

The days are still a little rough and I pass out around 9 every night, but it's a fulfilled exhaustion. I really like teaching. I like seeing a lesson plan succeed, and the kids understand a grammar point. I like when they attempt to speak to me in English, and when I can see them become interested in what I'm talking about. I like when the other teachers complement me on a lesson. It's nice to make a difference, even if it's only a small one.

I think it's going to be alright out here.

First Post From Korea: Shower Time

2010-08-18T21:44:00.000-07:00

Hello all! I'm in Korea, at orientation for my teaching job with EPIK. Orientation is at Jeonju University, in the southern part of the country. After this week I'll head out to my job in Gyeongsangbuk-do, but until then, the dorms here are my home.

The dorm itself isn't all that special (even though it is nice) but what is worth mentioning is the shower. Korean showers do not have doors or curtains; there's nothing separating the water from the rest of the bathroom. You get wet, the toilet gets wet and the floor gets really wet. There's a drain in the floor to let the water out but not all of the water goes at once, so you have to use the supplied bathroom slippers other times so your feet don't get soaked.

You may be able to see in the picture that the roll of toilet paper is covered with a metal plate. The wall sockets are also similarly covered. There's even a lid for the garbage can. Of course, all of this could be alleviated by just partitioning off the shower space.

But hey, who am I to tell the Koreans how to bathe themselves?

Lastly, here's a bonus photo of our shampoo.

How I Almost Landed A Job Teaching English In Japan

2010-08-12T08:14:00.000-07:00

Although I'll soon be teaching English in Korea my original goal was to teach in Japan. After all, Japanese was my major in college and I've spent quite a bit of time there. However, like the Rolling Stones said, "You can't always get what you want." Although I actually had a job offer on the table at one point (from G.education Nova), I wasn't able to find a job that fulfilled all of my requirements (namely, a decent salary) and so I set my sites elsewhere.

It's pretty hard to get a good job in Japan right now. From what I've seen online, the market there is rough for prospective English teachers with no previous experience. More and more people are falling in love with Japan and going there hoping to teach, while fewer and fewer positions are being made available as schools scale back or even close. Schools that are hiring want people who are already in Japan and don't require visa support. Those that are willing to sponsor you for a visa want teaching experience. It's an employer's market so schools can afford to be picky. That being said, if you're willing to work for low pay for a year or so to gain experience there are still jobs out there. (This option wasn't available to me as I have student loans to pay off.)

As with Korea, there are two main types of English teaching jobs in Japan: public and private schools. At a public school, you're what is called an ALT, an Assistant Language Teacher. You co-teach English with a Japanese teacher at a public school. ALTs are provided by private companies, like Interac and Altia Central, or the government, which is what JET is. There are also private schools, known as eikaiwa, conversation schools. Unlike Korean private schools, which largely use recruiters to find employees, private Japanese schools hire directly.

Requirements
So what do you need to be able to teach in Japan? A college degree is absolutely necessary. You don't have to speak Japanese, although it doesn't hurt. A TEFL certificate is not necessary but could give you an edge over non-certified applicants. And, as I said before, if you already have a visa eg you're married to a Japanese person then you're good to go.

Get your resume together and rewrite it with an ESL focus. Bagged groceries at Safeway? Great, but even better if you tried to teach your Spanish-speaking co-workers some English on your break. Prepare a nice cover letter too. Have a passport photo taken (and wear a collared shirt and tie). You'll need that for your application. Get two former bosses to write generic letters of recommendation for you. Then scan everything, including your diploma and any TEFL certificates. It also wouldn't hurt to write a short essay on why you want to teach in Japan. You can always add in specifics like location when applying.

Should I Stay Or Should I Go?
You don't have to be in Japan to get hired. There are lots of job sites (below) to help you do that. However, being in the country could give you an advantage. That being said, Japan is a very expensive place to be and it could take 3-4 months to land a job so you'll need to being a lot of money with you, something like $5000.

Eikaiwa
Here's a list of some of the larger eikaiwa chains, some of which have offices outside of Japan where you can interview in person. Others will want to interview via Skype or phone. Eikaiwa often pay better than public schools but your hours will vary and be when people are not working or in school, so evenings and weekends.

Amity
ECC
Aeon
G.education Nova (Geos)
Gaba
Winbe
James English School

ALT Providers
If you'd rather work in a public school with normal 9-5 hours, try one of these.

JET
Altia Central
Interac

Job Sites
There are many other, smaller schools also hiring. Look on the following job sites for job postings. Gaijinpot is the biggest and best known, but not every school will post there. Also, everyone looking for a job goes there so there are literally hundreds of applicants for any one job. Check the sites everyday and if you can, check at the end of the day, as that's when new ads tend to go up (it's morning in Japan then).

Gaijinpot
TEFL Jobs Now
Japan English Teacher
Total ESL
You Can Teach English
ESL Job Feed
Dave's ESL Cafe International Job List
All About Teaching English In Japan
Jobs In Japan
Kansai Scene Classifieds
Kansai Flea Market Classifieds
Kansai Free Ads

Information Boards
Check these boards for additional information. As with any expat boards take what people say with a grain of salt.

Gaijinpot Forums
Dave's ESL Cafe International Forums
I Think I'm Lost
JET Forums

Good luck!

How I Secured A Job Teaching English In Korea

2010-08-07T07:34:00.000-07:00

The contracts are signed, the visa is being processed, the plane tickets are bought, and all that's left to do is pack my bags. Yes, I'm finally leaving for Asia to teach English.

I've decided to go with EPIK, a South Korean government program that recruits English-speaking people from all over the world to teach in elementary, middle and high schools around Korea. The pay and benefits are both excellent. As with most English-teaching jobs in Korea, your airfare and rent are paid, leaving you free to take home the lion's share of your paycheck. Add to this a lower standard of living than home, extremely affordable health care, and an agreement between the US and Korea so I don't have to pay income tax for two years. Financially, it's the best deal in Asia.

Long-time readers of this site will be wondering why I chose Korea over my beloved Japan. Truthfully, it's more that Japan didn't choose me. I applied to the JET program and ended up on the waiting list and then applied to a number of cram schools as well. But as I found out, it's a difficult time to get an English-teaching job in Japan, especially with no experience. Fewer jobs and more applicants (curse you, manga and anime) means employers can afford to be picky. Korea, however, has made English language a priority. Now is the time to break into Korea, as more and more people are taking the same route.

So how did I do it? In this piece I'll take you though my job application steps. This is not meant to be a definitive how-to, it's just the way I did it. Hopefully it will give you some pointers for your own job search. (I also plan to write similar articles on Japan and Taiwan, both of which I received job offers from before settling on EPIK.)

Public or Private?
There are for the most part two kinds of schools to apply to in Korea, public schools and private schools. The latter could include private day schools but for the most part this means hagwons, or cram schools, places where kids go after regular school to supplement their education. Both public and private schools offer similar salaries and bonuses but the main difference between them is when they hire. Hagwons hire all year round while public schools generally hire twice a year, for spring and fall intakes.

A note about hagwons: there seems to be a lot of disreputable places out there, so much so that there is a warning about them on the US State Department site. Do your research before accepting a position. Ask to speak with a few teachers currently working there and look around online for warnings. I interviewed with a hagwon but am happy I got the public school job, if just for the fact that public-school hours suit me better. Hagwons operate in afternoons and evenings and on weekends and holidays, basically whenever the kids aren't in normal school. I'm a morning person and I prefer a 9-5 schedule.

For public schools, the two main programs are EPIK and GEPIK. EPIK is a nationwide program that includes most of South Korea's provinces and major metropolitan areas. Seoul's hiring is now handled by EPIK but it's known by a different name, SMOE. GEPIK is just for Gyeonggi-do, the province surrounding Seoul. Additionally, other provinces may hire on their own. Sometimes schools or areas hire directly as well.

Recruiters
You don't have to use a recruiter when getting a job in Korea but I think it helps. That being said, there are lots of horror stories about lying recruiters on the web as well, so again, do your research. The recruiter I used to secure my EPIK job was Korea Connections. They're a little smaller than some, like Footprints or Korvia, but they offer a more personalized approach. I went with them after the recommendation of a blogger I like to read (Seoul Patch) so now I'm passing the recommendation on.

Of course, the recruiter you choose will largely depend on the kind of job you want, as each one has access to different positions. At one point I was working with three different recruiters, Korea Connections for EPIK and hagwons, Korvia for GEPIK and Footprints for other hagwons. Don't apply to the same job twice through different recruiters but feel free to sign up with as many recruiters as you need to to maximize your chances. It doesn't cost you anything to sign with a recruiter; they get paid by the school that hires you.

Some people applied directly to EPIK and haven't had any problems. I like having a recruiter though. It's like having an advocate on your side. Also, Korean immigration is complex and confusing and it helps to have someone work through it with you.

Getting Prepared
You know the kind of job you want and you're ready to work with a recruiter (or not, as the case may be). What now?

You're going to need a resume and cover letter. Make sure these are ESL-focused. Even if you have no prior teaching experience, spin your job experience into something that would be attractive to schools.

You're also going to need a scan of a passport-type photo to send them. It's standard practice in Asia. Also, scan your passport, diploma (required), any TEFL certificates you may have (more on this later) and two or three letters of recommendation. Ask former employers to write generic letters of recommendation and have them address them to: To whom it may concern. You can then use them for any situation.

Interviews
Interviews will take place either via Skype or cell phone. I always wore a suit, if just to get in the right mindset. And if it's a Skype video conference definitely look presentable. Interviews could be as short as 20 minutes or as long as 90, it depends on the interviewer. My policy was to take every interview. Even if I wasn't super interested in the job it was still good practice. Unless you're a seasoned teacher you're going to be answering questions about teaching and classroom management without having done any of this stuff. The more you talk about it the more confident you'll become.

Experience
Better than talking is doing, so why not try to get some experience before you start applying? Volunteer in a classroom, set up a language exchange or even do some private tutoring. It'll give you something to put on your resume as well as confidence in an interview.

TEFL Certification
TEFL (or TESL) Certification isn't a requirement for most schools in Korea but having one sure doesn't hurt. In fact, it can often help. SMOE requires it (or at least one year's experience in a classroom). Because I have one, I qualified for a higher salary bracket with EPIK.

There are lots of different places that will give you a certificate. Make sure the school, whether online or brick and mortar, is accredited. You're going to need at least a 100-hour course. Anything less will not be acceptable to a school and thus a waste of money. I went with I To I, a UK-based online school. I really enjoyed the course and was able to apply things I learned directly to the interview. When asked about class management I had concrete things I could suggest, rather than just vague ideas about keeping kids quiet. It also gave me some much-needed confidence—I may not have any teaching experience but at least I've spent 100 hours reading about it.

Korean Language Ability
It's not a requirement. You'll be working with Korean co-teachers for the most part so you're not expected to speak the language.

Resources
The main resource for all things Korea ESL is Dave's ESL Cafe. It's a good place to do some research and get the lay of the land but take what people say here with a grain of salt. This is a very cranky bunch. The recruiter Footprints also has a board, which has some useful information on it.

Good luck!

ROK It: The Definitive Puntime List

2010-08-05T07:57:00.000-07:00

In keeping with my recent Seoul list, I thought I'd bang out a list of Republic of Korea puns that should be similarly off limits to anyone blogging about life in Korea. So, without further ado, let's ROK!

ROK and roll
ROK around the clock
I want to ROK with you
Keep on ROKin' in the free world
Is that freedom ROK? Well, turn it up!
ROK of ages
Old time ROK and roll
Rodney on the ROK
ROK of Gibraltar
Honey in the ROK
KrautROK
ROKing down the house
Surfing on a ROKet
ROK steady
King Tubby meets ROKers uptown
This is just a modern ROK song
For those about to ROK, we salute you
So you want to be a ROK 'n' roll star
Are you ready to ROK?
Block ROKin' beats
Combat ROK
Jailhouse ROK
ROK me gently
ROK me Amadeus
Don't stop the ROK
ROK and roll part 2
Bongo ROK
ROK music
I love ROK 'n' roll
ROK box
King of ROK
ROK radio
Soft ROK
Love and ROKets
Duck ROK
ROK paper scissors
ROKy road
ROK steady crew
ROKwell
Lover's ROK
ROK on

Thought of some more? Light up the comments.

The Definitive(?) Seoul-Sucking Pun List

2010-08-01T08:03:00.000-07:00

Every Korea-associated blogger has to pun Seoul and soul at some time. I think it's a visa requirement. To avoid having to do it later I figure I'll just get it out of the way now and come up with as many as I can.

(If you're pun-sensitive or otherwise employ a "no pun" life philosophy, please avert your eyes now.)

Heart and Seoul
Seoul mate
Seoul man
Seoul time
Old Seoul
Bless my Seoul
Swallow your Seoul
Seoul fire!
I know you got Seoul
Seoul power
Seoul patch
Come down softly to my Seoul
Free your Seoul
Rubber Seoul
Body and Seoul
Seoul train
Seoulamente
Dark Seoul
What does your Seoul look like?
Hot buttered Seoul
Seoul on fire
Poor old Seoul
River of Seoul
Sell your Seoul
Seoul Sonic Force
Seoul glow
Seoul pride
Dead Seoul
Seoulwax
Seoul makossa
Seoul survivor
Seoul flower
Hug my Seoul
Stone my Seoul
Omar Seouleyman
Seoul to Seoul

I'm sure there are some I've forgotten. Can you come up with any?

Looks Like Kimchee Is Back On The Menu

2010-07-30T18:04:00.001-07:00

Well, I heard from my recruiter the other day and it looks like I'm off the waiting list for EPIK. Furthermore, contracts are on their way so hopefully by next week I'll be able to go to the Korean consulate in San Francisco and get my visa processed. Orientation starts on August 18 so there's not a day to spare.

However. I can't feel completely sure about the position just yet. I'm afraid that after another week of waiting I'm going to hear from my recruiter again that EPIK has decided to withdraw my position, or something. There's no specific reason to fear this; I haven't heard of it ever happening. I just won't be able to relax until I have the contract in my hand.

To tide myself over, I've been listening to a mix of field recordings I made on my visit to Korea in 2008. Here it is:

Korea In Sound

Racial Marketing

2010-07-16T09:17:00.000-07:00

A while back I wrote about Japan's soft cultural power in Asia. Japan is the cultural leader in things like fashion and music in Asia, and has even taken to "discovering" singers in other countries and presenting them as Japanese like, such as with May, the Thai singer in Sweet Vacation. In my original article I also mentioned a Tibetan singer who had been similarly discovered.

Meet alan (known to her family as Alan Dawa Dolma). She was discovered in China and moved to Japan in 2007 to be groomed for their pop machine, learning the language and getting a makeover.

Here are two of her album covers.

If you saw those out of context, you'd think she was Japanese, right? It's only when you hear her haunting voice that you catch on that something is different.

Here she is on Japanese TV. Towards the end she sings and you can definitely hear the "ethnic" in her voice.

Here's another video, also from Japanese TV, in which she sings a traditional Tibetan song.

But how is alan marketed in her native China?

This is interesting. There's a distinct difference from the Japanese covers. I don't think she's marketed as more "Chinese" here but with the blue contacts there's a definite exoticness happening. Also interesting is that the songs have a world music flavor. Her Japanese music is—aside from her voice—largely indistinguishable from other J-pop but this album mixes traditional instrumentation with modern rhythms.

So does this mean that Japan prefers its outside elements to be made more Japanese, while China doesn't mind a little exotica? I don't want to pass any sweeping judgments, but it sure looks that way based on this one isolated case.

As for me, I prefer the Japanese covers and the Chinese music.

10 Things I Miss About Japan (And 10 Things I Don’t)

2010-07-06T08:05:00.000-07:00

There's a lot to miss about living in Japan, but there are some things I absolutely do not miss at all. Here are 10 of each.

Miss

1. Onigiri
This is always on the top of the list of things I miss in Japan. There's just something so perfect about a ball (or triangle) or rice, some dried seaweed and a little salty fish filling. It's been called "Japanese soul food" and I have to agree. And yes, you can buy it here in the States at Japanese grocery stores but it's somehow not the same. Maybe because the plastic wrapping never comes off as elegantly as it does in Japan.

2. Sushi Meijin
This was a low-cost kaiten zushi (conveyer belt sushi) chain in Oita. A dollar a plate. Stuff yourself sick for less than 10 bucks. Brilliant for a student. It was also a family place, with little kids running around and even a kids' play area. I miss this place but I also miss quality and affordable sushi.

3. Japanese Draft Beer
On a hot day, there's nothing better than a frosty mug of cold Japanese draft beer. It's light, refreshing, and served so cold ice crystals form on the head. And there's definitely a head. There has to be.

4. Japanese Sincerity
Here in the West we value irony. Feelings are rarely expressed to friends directly; they're done through jokes and put-downs. You know you've achieved a level of closeness with someone when they start making fun of you a lot. An actual, sincere statement is looked on with bemusement at best and distrust at worst. Not so in Japan. A statement like, "Please do your best" is commonplace, and beautiful in its heartfelt simplicity. I miss that.

5. The Trains
They run on time. They're everywhere and thus extremely convenient. Unless you're way out in the countryside, you just don't need a car. I love riding on trains in Japan.

6. Regional Specialties
Japanese cuisine is rather restricted. It's opened up to accept foreign influences but still, most dishes will contain similar ingredients. Which is why I love the idea of Japanese "regional specialties." It's all the same stuff, just slightly different. Oita, where I lived for a year, has as a specialty tempura-fried chicken. It's different from kara age, regular Japanese fried chicken, in that it's fried in tempura batter. Another place specialized in baked curry rice. The same, yet different.

7. Shinto Shrines
I would live at a Shinto shrine if I could. They give me such a sense of awe, as well as peace. I like Buddhist temples as well but they don't touch me in the same way that Shinto shrines do. Seeing a big torii (shrine gate) just does it for me.

8. Deep Sense of History
I love history and Japan has it in spades. Plus, Japan loves its own history. Castles are constantly being rebuilt, samurai movies and TV shows being produced, and books written. Just take a stroll around your typical small city and you'll find some interesting historical site or other.

9. Being Surrounded By The Language
I really do enjoy learning Japanese, and hearing it spoken on a daily basis is a joy to me. Seeing kanji "in the wild," as it were, is the best way to learn it. I remember making linguistic connections everyday when I lived there.

10. Matsuri
There's nothing like a Japanese festival, or matsuri. And I mean beyond just the food and drinking, which is great. No, a matsuri exists outside of normal society. There's an element of chaos and danger, a feeling hearkening back to pre-civilized man that's all but disappeared in modern society. It's a wonderful feeling that I've only ever experienced otherwise at Burning Man in the mid-90s.

Don't Miss

1. Being Stared At
If you're not Japanese in Japan you're different, and that means you'll get started at. It's not done with animosity (usually), just curiosity and you do get used to it, but you forget how nice anonymity can be once it's gone.

2. Lack of Good Coffee
There are plenty of places to buy a cup of coffee in Japan but few are what I'd call "good." And forget trying to buy any kind of decent coffee at the grocery store for home brewing. Japan still thinks freeze-dried crystals are state of the art.

3. Summer
Oh God, summer is hot and humid in Japan. I'm from the temperate Bay Area, where it's dry and comfortable all summer long. But Japan is like Miami hot. Jamaica hot. After walking around a bit, I would have a V of salt on my back from where I had sweat. I'm not kidding—the salt was visible on my shirt. That's nuts.

4. Drafty Apartments
Japanese apartments are not built for living in, obviously. They're built to hold up the roof and that's all. Hot in the summer and cold in the winter. Useless.

5. Being Excluded
This is part of the whole being different thing. If you're not Japanese then you can never truly fit in. It's one of the prices you have to pay for living there.

6. Mosquitoes
Japanese mosquitoes are sneaky. They attack low, bypassing your head and going straight for your legs. Before you know it, you've been bitten 10 times. And the bites scab over, leaving gross little marks. At least there's no malaria.

7. Expense
Although I've written to the contrary Japan is still an expensive place to live, mainly because there are no budget-priced items. Everything is made in-country and the price strictly controlled by the government. No cheap Chinese imports here. Good for Japanese business, bad for the consumer who has to pay $150 for a rice cooker.

8. Being Illiterate
As much as I love the challenge of learning kanji, it's frustrating and embarrassing to not be able to read at a functional level. Ordering in restaurants often exposed this, with me reduced to pointing at things in the menu I couldn't read.

9. Salty Food
Japanese food is delicious but it's also salty as hell. Here in the US it's recommended we top out at around 2000 mg of sodium a day. A bowl of ramen has like 3 times that amount. Not surprisingly, my blood pressure goes up significantly when I'm in country.

10. Concrete
Japan is a beautiful country, with lush green forests, ample coastlines and rolling hills, but you'd never know it for all the goddamn concrete that covers every inch of natural ground. Tetrapods piled on the coasts, rivers paved over even in the backwoods, and hills encased in concrete. Does Japan even know how beautiful it could be?

Tentacles In My Mouth

2010-07-05T07:56:00.000-07:00

Back in 2008, I spent a little time in Korea. One of the things I wanted to do that trip was eat live octopus, known as sannakji in Korean. It's not a particularly exotic dish there. In fact, just wait until the sun goes down and sannakji food carts will magically appear next to subway stations. One night, Mr. Bong, the owner of the hostel where I was staying, took me and another guest to his favorite.

Here's the owner of the stall preparing the octopus. First, it's taken out of the tank, its legs stretched out on a cutting board, and its body cut off. Then the legs are sliced into bite-size pieces.

The octopus has arrived. The tentacle pieces are still moving, much like a chicken with its head cut off. Grab a piece, dip it in sesame oil and then chili sauce. Pop it in your mouth but stat chewing right away. As you can see in the video, the tentacles are still working and the piece of octopus will try to stick to the inside of your mouth.

I recommend drinking soju while you do it.

Size Matters

2010-07-01T08:44:00.000-07:00

I can't count how many times I've been told that Japan is a small country. I heard it often enough while living there. But is it really? Japan is roughly the same size as California, and California isn't so small. I thought I'd ~~do a little research~~ look on Wikipedia and see just how Japan sizes up to other countries.

In terms of area, Japan is the 61st largest country on the planet. With a total country count of almost 240, that means that 3/4ths of the countries on the globe are smaller than Japan. Germany? Smaller. England? Smaller. Malaysia, Norway, Italy, and New Zealand—all smaller. Even a unified North and South Korea is significantly smaller. I remember I once told a Japanese person—who had been insisting how small their country was—that it was larger than the UK and she just about freaked out. Japan is also compared to America. "Look how small it is next to mighty America." That's an unfair comparison. Every country except for Russia, Canada and China is small compared to the US and A.

Land mass isn't everything. How about in terms of population? In that respect, Japan comes out even higher, with the 10th largest population in the world. In this respect it's larger than Mexico, the Philippines, Canada, and Australia. You win again, Japan.

Why this insistence on being so small? Japan has a larger landmass than 3/4ths of the countries on the planet, a greater population than just about everyone accept the biggest of the big, and even a population density to be proud of (number 36). And then there's that big ol' economy, number 2 in the world.

So why the low self-esteem, Japan? If size really does matter (and it seems like it does to you) then why not realize how big and strong you really are? I'll bet before you lost the war you didn't go around telling other countries how tiny you were. Have you since made yourself psychologically small?

I'm curious what others think.

First Come First Serve

2010-06-15T08:22:00.000-07:00

EPIK is operated on a first come, first serve basis. Unlike JET, which operates by periodically eliminating huge chunks of applicants, EPIK keeps on accepting applications until it overflows with superfluous job seekers, like a clogged storm drain during a flood. And it appears to be storm season.

Here's what showed up on the EPIK website yesterday:

Important Note: Position availability is very limited at this time. Chances of being placed onto a wait list for a province/city are very high. Applicants on the wait list are not guaranteed a position with EPIK.

Although my recruiter has told me I have a very good chance of landing a position, and as long as my papers and such are in order there shouldn't be a problem, this still makes me nervous. I've been languishing on the JET alternate wait list since the beginning of April. I don't think I could stand a repeat of that.

Actually, I tried to anticipate this on my EPIK application. When asked to choose where I would like to be placed, I was given a selection of major metropolitan areas as well as general provinces. I chose the provinces because I knew most people would pick cities first. I came in to this process in the middle of the hiring cycle and knew I wouldn't have as good a chance of getting placed as those in the first wave of applicants. Also, provincial positions pay a little more, which is always a good thing.

Here are my five choices, in order:

1. Gyeongbuk (also known as Gyeongsangbuk), located in the south east part of the peninsula.
2. Gangwon, in the north east on the border with North Korea. Actually, the province is split in two by the border.
3. Gyeongnam (also known as Gyeongsangnam). The southern version of Gyeongbuk.
4. Chungbuk, right in the center.
5. Gyeonggi, the province surrounding Seoul.

As it was explained to me during my interview, after my papers are received by EPIK they are then sent out to my first choice for placement. Assuming there are still positions available and the province board of education likes me, I will be accepted and they will send out contracts. If there are no positions left or they don't like me, my papers will move on to number two on the list, and so on. At this point, the likelihood of my getting a job depends on two things: how popular (or unpopular) the provinces are that I have selected, and how many positions they have left to fill.

Let's take a look at the number of positions available, as posted on the Korea discussion forums on Dave's ESL Cafe by a recruiter from Footprints last Friday.

1. Gyeongbuk: 40 positions (6 already filled)
2. Gangwon: 59 positions (10 already filled)
3. Gyeongnam: 7 positions (1 already filled)
4. Chungbuk: 24 positions (1 already filled)
5. Gyeonggi: 12 positions (7 already filled)

This is good news. My top two have the most positions available in the provinces and are not full (at least, as of last week). Should Gyeongbuk be full, my application will move on to Gangwon, which has a lot of available positions. I like the look of this.

Speed is of the essence right now to make sure my papers arrive at the Gyeongbuk Board of Education before all positions have been filled. There's a lot that could happen to slow down the process though. My papers are on their way to EPIK right now, where they will be triple checked. If anything is found to be wrong, they will be kicked back to me for fixing. They could be languishing at the bottom of a "to be checked" pile while other applications are duly sent on to boards of education. Also, should I be rejected by my first choice, my application re-enters the central bureaucracy and bogs down again before being sent back out.

However. Everyone here is in the same boat. Everyone's papers are being checked and checked again, sent back for reprocessing, rechecked. I have faith in my ability to follow directions and do it right the first time, and to be accepted by my first choice. Let's also not forget that everyone is not trying for these five provinces. There are eight provinces and seven major metropolitan cities with positions.

Hopefully soon I will get an email from my recruiter saying, "You passed at the Gyeongbuk provincial board of education. Contracts are on their way." If not, well, I don't even want to think about it.

*** Update ***

I wrote to my recruiter to try and clarify the EPIK hiring process. I'm glad I did. Essentially, EPIK looks at how many available positions there are in an area and then recommends that number of people. if I'm understanding this right, the "first come first served" part is over and now the positions are being filled by recommendation. Makes sense, right? This is, of course, dependent upon getting your papers in, making sure all of your papers are in order, etc.

Yakihito Is Going Korean

2010-06-12T07:13:00.000-07:00

That's right, folks. I'm going to Korea. After what seemed like a long job hiring process, checking the job boards daily, updating my resume, interviewing via Skype and cellphone, I finally decided to take a job teaching English in public schools in Korea starting mid-August.

"Wait, what?" I hear you say, incredulously. "But Adam, you're all about Japan. You don't even speak Korean, for crying out loud."

You're right. I am all about Japan. But I'm also all about paying off my student loans and Japan is not the best place in the world to save money. It's also really difficult to get a job there right now. Well, a good job. I was offered a position with G.education Nova but given the company's recent history I decided not to take it. Japan will always be there. But right now, Korea beckons.

I'm going to be working for EPIK, a Korean government-run program that's similar to JET. I'll be working as an assistant English teacher in a variety of public schools. I don't know if that will be high school, middle school, elementary school (or a mix of all) or even where I'll be yet, but I have a tentative conformation for Gyeongsanbuk province. It's located in the south east of the country and was the center of the Silla kingdom more than 1000 years ago. I visited there on my trip to Korea in 2008 and really liked it.

None of this, however, is 100% certain. I have passed the interview stage, which means EPIK likes me. My required documents have been sent and will be passed on to the Gyeongsanbuk board of education, who will then give me the final OK. I have been working with a recruiter during this whole process and she assures me it's a done deal, that from here on out any delays are just due to matters of formality. I'm a little nervous that all of this will actually pan out—I've had to turn down that job offer and cancel pending interviews—but with about a month to wait for the contracts, I guess I had better just assume a stance of success and put it out of my mind.

T-minus two months and counting. Or not, as the case may be.

Get A Job

2010-05-13T12:26:00.000-07:00

Well, here I am, finally applying to teach in Japan. After six years of school and such, I'm finally in a position to be able to work in Japan. This was the whole goal when I first set foot on Japanese soil in 2004. Without a degree, I was forced to return home, disappointed but with new-found direction in my life. Now, with a degree, I'm ready to go.

However, there are not as many English teaching jobs in Japan as I thought. The days of just showing up and being handed wads of cash are over. Endless recession in Japan has reduced the amount of jobs, while Japan's growing worldwide popularity is encouraging more and more people to set out for the islands. It's a tough time to be looking for a job. I mean, when I apply to a brand new job posting online and am told that 161 people have already applied, well, that's just rough.

But hope exists. I'm currently applying to positions available for people outside Japan. This means interviewing at a recruiting office (usually Los Angeles) or over the phone. And I have had some bites. I have one interview scheduled for next month, with possibly another coming soon. Hey, at least that's something.

Should nothing pan out here I'll get on a plane and take my chances in Japan. The majority of jobs posted online specify that the applicant must already be in Japan. The problem is if they expect you to already have a working visa, which I certainly don't.

As I mentioned before, I am also considering Korea. I applied for EPIK (Korea's version of JET) and will hopefully be contacted about a phone interview soon. The program pays pretty well but it's the benefits that really make it: they buy your plane ticket, pay your rent, and give you a sign-on bonus plus yearly bonuses. When you factor in the affordability of Korea it's very attractive.

And of course JET could call any day with the good news that I've been upgraded from alternate to teacher. Or they could never call. I have no idea where I am on the alternate list. Maybe I'm at the bottom, who knows.

In the meantime, to make myself more attractive to employers I've been taking an online TEFL certification course. It looks good on resumes and some places will give you a salary bump for it. I'm actually really enjoying it.

So that's where I stand right now. A lot of things up in the air. Hopefully something will land soon.

Didn't See This Coming

2010-04-10T17:03:00.000-07:00

Well, after months of waiting, I finally heard back from JET this week about the job. I'm an alternate. That means I'm on standby until someone with an acceptance drops out. I could conceivably be in this holding pattern until December.

I did not consider this option at all. I figured I'd either be accepted outright (I'm just that awesome) or be flat-out denied (I'm just that sucky). But purgatory? It never even crossed my mind.

I have decided to officially accept the status of alternate, to notify the powers that be at JET that I will dutifully standby and be available should my services be required. Mind you, I have no idea where on the alternate list I am. Apparently every candidate is assigned a score based on the interview and this determines where they fall on the list. I just have to hope that my awesome-to-suck ratio is high. Or that lots of alternates decide they don't want to wait and drop off, bringing me up the list.

Of course, I'm not going to just idly sit by and hope things go my way. Come mid-June, when I'll be ready to start doing job interviews again, I will flood private Japanese English schools (known as jukus) with my application. I'm thinking ECC, Geos, Aeon, Amity, Winbe, and whatever I can find on Gaijinpot.

I'm also thinking of applying to jukus in Korea, what they call hagwons. The money is pretty good, they pay your rent and buy your plane ticket, and because the cost of living in Korea is not so high it's apparently easy to save money, something that's on my mind right now. I'm almost 40 with student loans to pay off and no savings. You bet it's on my mind.

Korea would be fun, almost a vacation for me after 5 years of school, but in the end it's not Japan. I'm hoping to go to graduate school in Japan in 5 or 7 years, so maybe sometime before that I'll do a year or two in Korea to make some extra money. Or maybe I'll end up there in a few months, who knows?

From what I've read on JET sites, the times that I'm most likely to be upgraded to accepted status are in the next month, as people fail to get their acceptance forms and such in on time (and as other alternates drop out), and then in June when placements come through and people decide they really don't want to spend 5 years in the Japanese countryside. It's in my best interest to hold out at least until July 31, when everyone leaves for the islands. A possibility exists that I could still be called up after that point (culture shock is a bitch) but it's not so likely, and anyway I can't wait that long.

Now I wait.

Fight (For) Your Dreams

2010-03-27T08:49:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that I like the J-pop group Perfume. And actually "like" may be too mild a word. Love? Obsess over? Would die for? Well, let's not go that far.

My interest in them started innocently enough while studying in Japan in 2008 but by the time I had come back home in early 2009, I was hooked. At first I played them all the time because I could actually hear them in my car. The super-compressed production was ideal for cutting through the road noise. But then something changed.

"Dream Fighter," a 2008 single, became something of an anthem for me. As with a lot of Japanese pop songs, the lyrics are all about doing your best in the face of adversity. It's amazing how many of these kinds of songs there are in Japan. When I first realized this I laughed. But when I sat down and translated the lyrics to "Dream Fighter," I was struck.

Here's my sloppy but earnest translation:

Dream Fighter

You wish for the best, and this never-ending trip is
Definitely our proof of living so
Actually, even if it seems we'll be beaten and knocked down
We'll definitely look ahead and walk, Dream Fighter.

Hey, the "normal" you speak of,
You say this and that, but the truth is it's probably
Not just mediocre; your ideal is near.
"Usual" just won't cut it.

Until the moment you think, I can finally stay this way—
It's a far, far away place.

You wish for the best, and this never-ending trip is
Definitely our proof of living so
Even if a painful thing happens
You'll never give up.
We have the strength so we can continue to run
And every one of your overflowing tears is a precious thing.
Actually, even if it seems we'll be beaten and knocked down
Definitely we'll look ahead and walk, Dream Fighter

Hey, the future you speak of,
You say this and that, but the truth is probably that
It's not pitch black; the light shines out.
"Usual" just won't cut it

Until the moment you think, I can finally stay this way—
It's a far, far away place.

You wish for the best, and this never-ending trip is
Definitely our proof of living so
Even if a painful thing happens
You'll never give up.
We have the strength so we can continue to run,
And every one of our overflowing tears is a precious thing.
Actually, even if it seems we'll be beaten and knocked down
We'll definitely look ahead and walk, Dream Fighter.

Until translating this, I never knew I needed a cheerleader. See, us Americans are supposed to do it all on our own. It's part of our pioneer spirit. But hearing this silly song, I broke down and cried. "This song is about me!" I sobbed. "That's me hoping for the best and never giving up." And of course: "And that far-away place is Japan!" It was too perfect.

I played this song the night I graduated. And I played it on the way to the job interview with JET. And I'm sure I'll play it many times more until the moment I can say, "I can finally stay this way."

Japan and Whaling

2010-03-14T12:04:00.000-07:00

I've been mulling over this topic for a while. It's a tough one. I like Japan but I also like whales. It's easy to say, "Japan, stop whaling" but it's more complicated than that, and is that a fair thing to impose on a country with a history of whaling? Hopefully through this post I can come a little closer to at least how I feel about the situation.

Twenty years ago, if you had asked me about Japan and whaling I would have said, "Japan, stop killing those cute whales!" I really identified with whales, orcas especially, and their graceful freedom. I had one of those new agey videos of dolphins and orcas swimming, set to Hearts of Space music. I loved that kind of thing.

Now, of course, I love Japan. I would even say I'm a bit of a Japan apologist. I've put myself in a tough position. I love whales but I also love Japan. I'm also the kind of person who can see both sides of a situation. I even ate whale once to try and see what the appeal was (I didn't like it). Both Japan and the anti-whaling groups have salient points, and both do things that are reckless and self-serving.

Endangered Whales

Let's get the easy one out of the way first. Does Japan hunt endangered whales? Yes, it does. Is this wrong? Yes, very wrong. Hunting humpbacks, as it has done, and sei whales, as it continues to do, is not justifiable in any way (although Japan tries. More on this in a bit).

Whale populations have grown since the worldwide ban was placed in the late 20th century. Some whales, like the humpback, are still on the endangered list. Others are not, like fin whales, but many people feel their numbers are still not high enough to resume hunting them. Japan disagrees, stating that their numbers are plentiful.

Scientific Research

The International Whaling Commission says you can hunt a small amount of whales for scientific purposes, which is what Japan asserts that it's doing. Contrary to any other country's data, it states that whales are depleting the world's fish stocks (not humans) and thus should be periodically killed to ascertain how much they're eating, and to prevent them from eating too much.

These assertions—that Japan is engaging in scientific whaling, and that whales are depleting fish stocks—are both met with skepticism from the rest of the world. The amount of whales Japan kills in a year is pretty large, upwards of a 1000 whales. And whale meat is sold in stores and restaurants, which is not very scientific. Japan claims this is to help offset the cost of its scientific whaling voyages, which it has been running at a loss for 20 years.

Moral Issue

But whether or not you feel that Japan has the right to whale, scientifically or otherwise, seems to come down to the way you react emotionally to the hunting of whales. No matter the scientific data, if you're against whale hunting you won't be swayed. And these are the people that Japan regularly clashes with, the Sea Shepherds and Greenpeace and so on.

The movie The Cove is powerful precisely because it appeals to the emotions. I cried when I saw the dolphins being killed. Who wouldn't? But I would also cry if I saw a pig or cow being killed. I think it was unfair of the movie to paint these fishermen as unfeeling monsters who joke while killing dolphins, because this is what anyone who regularly kills animals does. You don't condemn the farmer for having a smoke and listening to the radio while he butchers a pig, right?

But then there's the intelligence issue. Are dolphins self-aware? Are dolphins super intelligent? It sure seems that way. Does that mean they should not be killed and eaten? Does that make them special? Many people think so. The Japanese whaling industry says that dolphins and whales are like any other marine mammal and are not deserving of special treatment. They say that we anthropomorphize cetaceans.

I have eaten horse, which is served raw in Japan. I don't particularly like horses so I didn't have a problem with it. My friend wouldn't eat it though. "Horse is friend," he said, "not food." Is the dolphin and whale issue the same? Friend and not food? And who has the right to say and enforce what it is?

Europe

To throw another wrench into the works, there's the issue of Europe. Iceland and Norway also hunt whales, and as of 2009 collectively hunt more whales than Japan. They also engage in "scientific research" but have at least refrained from hunting endangered species.

But European whaling countries are rarely mentioned as being bad guys while Japan constantly comes under attack. I don't want to say there's racism at work here because I don't see any hard evidence but it is a double standard.

And then there's the indigenous cultures that hunt whale, like the Inuit and Indians of the Pacific Northwest (yes, in America). They're largely left alone because they have a long tradition of whaling, but so does Japan. Japan got into the whaling thing big in the 1800s with the rest of the world but specific villages have been hunting whales for centuries.

Mercury

But I think I have a solution. Whaling may or not be morally wrong. Japan may or may not be being pigheaded about it. But no matter what, eating whale is really bad for you.

Whale and dolphin meat is riddled with mercury. These are big animals that eat a lot of fish, fish that's been tainted with mercury. Tuna even has mercury in it. You can imagine how much more a big whale would have.

The people of Taiji, where The Cove was filmed, who regularly eat whale and dolphin meat, have a lot more mercury in their bodies than those who do not eat it. Mercury is bad for you, but it's really bad for your unborn child. This is what happened at Minamata in the 1950s. Given Japan's history with mercury you would think the government would be extra sensitive to it. Apparently not.

Due to mercury levels, the eating of fish in general is becoming a dangerous thing. And dolphins and whales are the most dangerous because they're the biggest. Forget your traditions, forget your pride. Let's stop eating it because it's bad for us.

JET Interview: The Post Game Wrap-Up

2010-02-19T15:36:00.000-08:00

It finally happened today. My interview with JET. Months of preparation, etc. And now it's over. Thank God.

My interview was at 10am this morning, at a hotel in Japantown. I was expecting the mood to be somber and serious but actually the atmosphere in the waiting room was pretty light. Two former JETs sat behind a table, checking off names, while the head of the local JET organization hung around, dispelling myths about the interview process that he'd read online.

That should have been my first clue that a lot of what's out there passing as information is bogus. Really, if I had this to do over again, I would not read anything on any forums and just prepare as I would for any other job interview. Because that's actually what it was: just a job interview. My professional skills and personality were ascertained via questions. Not so strange, that.

I was really nervous going in but once it started I forgot that I was supposed to be scared and went with it. There was a panel of three people and they were—dare I say it—nice to me. There was even laughter. Of course there were some tough questions but I answered honestly and did my best.

Overall, I think it went really well. I was well-spoken and enthusiastic, and I believe my passion for Japan came across. My lack of teaching experience is a definite minus but I hope my other attributes are enough to overcome that.

Next step: the waiting. I will know either way by early April.

Suddenly I Have an Interest In the Olympics

2010-02-18T09:19:00.000-08:00

I spent a good part of yesterday morning trying to get set up to stream the Olympics on my computer. NBC only televises the events that involve the US teams, but there are tons of other events happening simultaneously. NBC streams all events on its site in real-time. As long as you are a cable subscriber you can watch. I had some problems logging in, but after a call to customer service I was at last able to watch sports on my computer.

That's right, I said sports.

What's wrong with me, you might ask, and deservedly so, for I have taken a life-long anti-sports stance. I do not watch the Super Bowl. I don't care about baseball or soccer. I have no interest in skiing or snowboarding. Whether spectating or participating, sports are boring.

So when my mom saw me watching the Olympics on my computer yesterday, she remarked, not surprisingly, "Why are you watching the Olympics?"

Why, indeed.

This is the Japanese women's curling team, Team Aomori. And unlike some Japanese athletes who are getting a lot of heat for their appearance, Team Aomori is beloved at home precisely because they're so photogenic. And, as a certified menkui, I figured it was my duty to watch as well. (It's the same reason I watched ping-pong in the 2008 summer Olympics. Hey, consistency counts for something, right?)

Curling itself is lot like shuffle board played on a giant deck of ice with 42-pound granite pucks, called stones. One person lauches the puck, pushing it down the line and trying to get it onto target-like markings at the end of the ice. I'm actually still kind of fuzzy about the particulars but it is interesting to watch. I find the push-off stance particularly graceful, and the frenzied sweeping of the ice that others do to alter the course and speed of the stone is kind of cool. But really, for me, it's all about this:

This is Mari Motohashi, the Second on the team (whatever that means). The picture to the left is from a calendar, which tells you how popular she is in Japan. Check out her blog.

This is Anna Ohmiya. She's the Third. Here's her blog.

There are three others on the team as well, Moe Meguro (the Skip), Kotomi Ishikzaki (the Lead), and Mayo Yamaura (the Fifth), who I'm sure are all stellar athletes but for our purposes links to their blogs will suffice.

If you're as ~~lonely and obsessed~~ enthusiastic as I am about Japanese women's curling, go to the NBC Olympics site and set up alerts so you won't miss any games.

日本、頑張れ！

I'm A Face Eater

2010-02-14T08:36:00.000-08:00

A few years ago one of my students in Oita accused me of being 面食い, pronounced "menkui." It literally means "face eater," someone who puts more stock in physical appearance than personality. I argued with her—and am obviously still doing so since I'm writing a story about it 2 years later—that I'm not a menkui. I have very rarely dated someone just for their looks, and if I did it didn't last very long.

The subject came up again last night but among different people. I went to see a movie (a forgettable Hong Kong comedy) with some friends and while looking at the posters for the movies showing in the theater after, I pointed to a pretty girl on a poster for a different movie and said, "I wish she had been in our movie." Oh, do you know who she is? "No, but she's hot." And then it started up again.

So I suppose it's time to admit it: I'm a menkui. Physical appearance is very important to me. However! It is not more important than personality when choosing a companion. But could I date someone who had a great personality but was lacking in the looks department? I'm sorry to say I don't think I could. Maybe that's why I'm still single.

Exploding the Myth of Expensive Japan

2010-02-13T10:14:00.000-08:00

I find it odd that Japan is still thought of as a prohibitively expensive place. Sure, compared to other Asian countries like Korea or Thailand it is, but even compared to America right now it's not all that bad. Even though things are changing, why does this myth linger?

Japan's reputation as a pricey place started in the '70s when its miracle economy started to take off. I recently read Paul Theroux's The Great Train Bazaar, in which he takes trains all over Asia and Europe, and even then (early '70s) there were wild rumors of $40 cups of coffee in Japan. This persisted through the wild Bubble '80s, when Japan was one of the richest countries in the world and people ate gold just because they could.

I first went to Japan in 2004 and Tokyo at that time reminded me of San Francisco in terms of cost of living. Apartment rentals were high but similar to what I was used to at home in the Bay Area. Since then, rental prices have come down. It's possible to get a studio apartment (much like the picture to the right) in central Tokyo for around $600 a month now. Try getting that in SF.

But take a look at an apartment rental site like Apamanshop and you can see just how cheap it can get. Sapporo is one of Japan's largest city and there are literally thousands of vacant apartments, many for under $200 a month. And not all of these are of the rabbit hutch variety either. Some have full kitchens, or a second room. And the dreaded key money—two or three months rent as a move-in gift to the landlord—has been lowered to one month in many cases. And hey, if rent is only $200 a month, what's another two bills?

The Japanese fondness for expensive things ("If it costs more it must be better"), born in the boom of the '80s, is also changing. Today young people want "fast fashion," cheap chain outlets like Uniqlo and Forever 21. They're even famously buying jeans at the grocery store. With 15% of Japan's population under the poverty line this makes sense. If people don't have a lot of money they can't keep spending, so lower the cost of goods to match what people have in their wallets and keep the market moving.

However, Japan can still be expensive. The cost of food is really high. Japan spends more on food (and I don't mean eating out) than most other countries. And because of strict import rules, electronics are all made domesticly and sold at high prices regulated by the government. There's no cheap Chinese food processors or toaster ovens here. And of course the $6 orange juice and $8 cake set are standard prices in fancy cafes.

Almost 20 years of recession have changed Japan from rich to, well, not so rich. Japanese still like to spend money—it's a shopper's paradise—but the difference is now the things they're buying cost $10 rather than $100.

Why I Like Japan Reason #6: My Own Space

2010-02-07T10:46:00.000-08:00

This, the last in a series exploring why I like Japan so much, is perhaps the hardest to write because it's the most complicated. In encompasses both a reason why I like Japan, and a reason why the country sometimes drives me crazy. Two sides of the same yen, as it were. I'm talking about being left alone.

I've always been something of a solitary person. As a kid I would spend hours alone in my room reading, listening to records and designing Dungeons & Dragons adventures. True to my nature, I enjoyed designing the levels by myself more than I enjoyed playing them with other people. This love of solitude has continued into my adulthood. I have absolutely no problem taking trips by myself, seeing movies by myself, and spending hours alone reading and listening to MP3s (I guess that's one thing that's changed). Of course, I don't shun interpersonal contact but I really do like spending time alone.

Japan, I have found, is the perfect place to do this. Since I don't fit in—I'm not Japanese—I am left alone to go my own way, do my own thing. And, because I'm no longer beholden to the strictures of my own society, I'm free to just be me. It's a very liberating feeling and one that, I believe, fuels most long-term expatriates.

Of course, it's not quite this easy. Another way to say "left alone" is "ignored," and in Japan the Westerner is often studiously, intentionally ignored. It's an odd feeling, to know you're being purposefully ignored. usually I can let it go but sometimes it drives me absolutely crazy. But that's the price to pay, I suppose, for the freedom I feel in Japan.

This is part of an ongoing series of articles exploring my fascination with Japan. Previous entries include:

Punctuality
Nostalgia
Safety
History
Honor System

Why I Like Japan Reason #5: Honor System

2010-02-03T08:21:00.000-08:00

In the picture to the right (which I did not take), there are freshly harvested vegetables up for sale. You will notice there is no person guarding them. On your honor, if you take a vegetable you pay for it. There are thousands of these unattended vegetable stands all over Japan. Local farmers put some produce in a box or stand on the side of the road and passing motorists stop, shop, and pay. It's amazing.

In many ways, Japan is a country run on the honor system. It's a very trusting place, on a whole. I love this about Japan. Spend just a little time here and you'll find your faith in humanity restored (at least until the national elections come around again).

To some people Japan is easy pickings. I once had a foreign woman break down for me all the ways to cheat the Tokyo Metro. You can buy a kid's ticket at half the price. No person will ever see the ticket—you buy it from a machine and then put it in a mechanical gate. Or, as the amount increases by distance, you can buy a ticket to the closest station and then go as far as you wish, feigning ignorance at the other end.

Yes, you can do these things (and more, I'm sure) but why would you? It ruins it for everybody. When I was a kid, trick or treating on Halloween, I would occasionally come across a bowl of candy sitting unattended on a porch with a sign that said, "Take one." Of course, I would take only one. It's unfair to the next 50 people if I take it all. But more often than not I would find the bowl empty. If I listened hard enough, I could hear the greedy kids who took it all, still laughing from down the block.

I don't want to live in a place where people take it all. I want to live in a place where the remainder of the candy is left for those who come after. It's called the "honor system" for a reason. When you take all the candy, when you screw the Tokyo Metro, when you steal from old farmers barely able to make a living, you may have made some small material gain but you have lost a whole lot more. You've lost it for everyone.

This is part of an ongoing series of articles exploring my fascination with Japan. Previous entries include:

Punctuality
Nostalgia
Safety
History

Why I Like Japan Reason #4: History

2010-02-02T09:13:00.000-08:00

Japan is roughly the size of California, yet within this compact land mass lies some of the most interesting historical sites in the world. There are thousands of temples and shrines, hundreds of burial mounds, tens of castles (plus plenty more sites of former castles), and on and on. Can you imagine 50 castles in the entirety of the US, let alone California? Even 12, the number of original castles in Japan, seems extravagant for our Western state.

I love history and Japan just bursts with it. Every region has at least one thing to see but often this number is more like a hundred. Even Oita, the prefecture where I lived in 2008, isn't all that exciting in the modern world but was a powerful area in the samurai days. In just Oita Prefecture alone are two castles, tens of castle ruins, the ancient headquarters for the network of Hachiman shrines that stretches across Japan, 2 or 3 samurai quarters, and much more. Multiply this across Japan's 47 prefectures and you begin to get an idea of just how much there is to see.

Perhaps it's because I'm from California that I love history so much. America has its own history, however young that may be, but it's largely confined to the East Coast, to places like Boston and Philadelphia. Out here on the other side of the country there's a distinct lack of past. If you want to see something from before WW2 you have to search for it and once you find... oh, too late, it's been replaced by a Wal-Mart. Japan likes to replace its old buildings too but in the case of shrines and castles, at least it rebuilds it exactly as it was before, preserving the lay of the land as well as the feeling of the place. Try finding that in the diaper isle at Wal-Mart.

Japan is also in love with its own history so there's no lack of homegrown appreciation for samurai and days of old. It's sort of like America's love of the western before Italy took it away from us and made it better. Back in the '50s, you could see westerns on TV, at the movies, and read about it in books. It was part of our national culture. Now no one cares about the past, perhaps because for most Americans now it has no bearing on them. Their past is in India or China or Eastern Europe. It's not right to say that America has no past; its pasts are countless and spread all over the world.

But for someone like me, who so enjoys learning about the past, living in a country without a distinct national past is like a baseball enthusiast living in France. You just have to go elsewhere to get your needs met.

This is part of an ongoing series of articles exploring my fascination with Japan. Previous entries include:

Punctuality
Nostalgia
Safety

Why I Like Japan Reason #3: Safety

2010-02-01T08:31:00.000-08:00

I had been living in Japan for around 6 months when it struck me: I was so much more relaxed walking around town. What's going on, I wondered. I get stared at constantly, so I'm always aware of people around me, and it's not like the streets are so empty that I don't have to worry about accidentally bumping into someone. No, the difference was I never felt like I was going to be attacked.

Japan is famous for its low crime rate, and you really feel the safety living there. Being robbed on the street is a rare thing. A friend of mine once left his backpack on a Tokyo street corner and it was still there days later, its contents unmolested. And I once saw a salaryman passed out face down on a train platform with his wallet in his out-stretched hand. I'll bet you it was still there when he woke up. The fact is, Japan is a remarkably safe place to live.

To walk down a crowded city street and not have to switch your wallet from back pocket to front. To not have to monitor for unpredictable crazy people. To not have to scan for potential muggers. To not have to keep an eye on dark corners and alleyway entrances that could hide assailants. To not have to constantly recalculate escape routes through the shifting crowds. I am blissfully free from such stressful thought processes in Japan.

I know that previous paragraph makes me seem paranoid, and when laid out like that it does seem a bit like safety overkill, but this is really what we're doing in our heads when walking down a busy, urban street. You can't tell me you don't tense up a bit in the Tenderloin or in parts of Oakland. Maybe these things aren't at the front of your mind but they're there in the back. It's called being aware of your surroundings. I really only noticed that I even did these things after living in Japan, when they had gone.

OK, Japan does have some weird crimes, like teenage daughters killing their fathers with axes, and anime fanatics stabbing each other in the streets. But this doesn't scare me. A knife? Come at me with a gun if you really want to scare me. When I saw someone get shot in LA, the killer and victim were standing a mere 5 feet from my car. After the shooting, the killer looked into my eyes and smiled. I was sure he was going to shoot me too. I nearly pissed my pants. If he had been holding a knife, I wouldn't have been scared at all.

It's a wonderful thing to be free from fear, even when it's just that little, everyday fear we call "street smarts."

This is part of an ongoing series of articles exploring my fascination with Japan. Previous entries include:

Punctuality
Nostalgia

The Minimal Life

2010-01-29T10:40:00.000-08:00

Ever since early 2004 I’ve been living a kind of minimal life. Less is more has been my maxim. Few books on the bookshelf. As a matter of fact, I’d rather not have a bookshelf or any other furniture at all but sometimes necessity outweighs what we’d like.

Of course, it wasn’t always like this. Before 2004, I was a hoarder. I loved to buy stuff. I had been collecting records since the age of 13. Books strained the shelves on which they were placed. I knew the location of every thrift store on the Peninsula and in San Francisco, and could tell you which had the best clothes, which the best records, which the best ironic art. It’s sad to say, but acquiring things was one of the hallmarks of my existence.

I was aware that this might not be the best of compulsions (credit card debt was something else I seemed to be accumulating) and so it was with little regret that I began jettisoning my stuff in 2004 in anticipation of moving to Japan. I sold my record collection and turntables. I sold all my CDs (not before ripping them of course—been completely digital for six years now). And I’ve kept the thrift store trips to a minimum, although lately my collection of ironic animal T-shirts is growing again. Shipping overseas can be expensive, so I’ve tried to keep it to two U-haul boxes.

For the most part I’ve managed to keep my possessions to within these narrow parameters for the last six years. And while I don’t miss my old hoarder lifestyle—compulsively downloading music and movies on the Internet has sated this somewhat—I do grow tired of the waiting. There is no overriding philosophy for living minimally, you see. It is in anticipation of once again moving to Japan, and once again having to deal with shipping expenses. Given the choice, I would certainly have more stuff. But it’s more than that. The absence of stuff has become, for me, symbolic of being in stasis. I have been in a holding pattern over my destination, Japan, for six years and I’m so ready to land it’s not even funny.

After wandering with my two U-haul boxes for six years I relish the opportunity to set them down, unpack, and put my meager possessions on a shelf. Until it’s time to move again.

The JET Interview: Weighing My Chances

2010-01-29T08:29:00.000-08:00

A few days ago I got the notice: I had been accepted to interview for a position teaching English in Japan for JET. Seems kind of funny to get excited about "being accepted to interview" but after all the hassle of the application, including letters of recommendation, an essay, etc., I was happy to have made it to the next stage.

And not everyone did. Apparently 5300 applied in the US alone, but only around 2200 made it to the interview stage (I counted up the numbers on the anouncement pdf). That's less than half. And I know there were some deserving people that didn't make it. A friend of mine with pretty much the exact same qualifications as me won't be interviewing in Japantown come February. Which is really too bad. I know he could have done a great job.

But still, 2200 people will be competing from the US alone. I don't know how many more applicants there are in the rest of the world but I imagine there's a lot. We have to include Canada, England, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa, and places like Jamaica and Nigeria where English is indeed the first language. Plus places like India and Singapore and Germany where English might not be the first language but often they speak it better than we do!

America is, however, the largest native English-speaking country by a pretty wide margin, so it's safe to assume that a good chunk of the new JETs will come from the US. Let's be conservative and say half. Now, how many positions will be vacated this year in Japan? That's impossible to know but we can guess. There are 5000 JETs in Japan in any given year. Most JETs only stay a year, deciding to return home after the contracted year is up. Some will renew, according to a former JET friend, but of those that do, few re-up more than once. (You can do a total of five years.) Taking a stab in the dark, of the 5000, we can conservatively assume that 2000 will go home this summer.

So far, our conservative estimate, reached through pain-stakingly scientific logical analysis and good old groping in the dark, says that of 2000 vacant positions, 1000 will be filled by Americans. With around 2000 American applicants, that means I have a 1 in 2 chance of getting the job. These are excellent odds. Interview for a job at Google or Yahoo and you could be 1 of 20 actually interviewing. With 50/50 odds, I only have to be better than the person sitting next to me in the interview waiting room. And I can do that.

I've been steadily studying Japanese in preparation for the interview. I will likely be asked some questions in Japanese. I have no idea what kinds of questions but I want to be prepared to answer correctly, and with the correct level of honorific. I'm also going to start studying English grammar again. Knowing when something is wrong in your own language, and explaining why it's wrong are two very different things. If I intend to be a teacher of the English language, I had better be able to explain it. And lastly, I'm making sure I can answer such questions as "Why do you want to go to Japan?" concisely and with conviction. "Because Japanese girls are hot" might be the truth but something more along the lines of, "Because it's long been my dream to become a JET ALT" might be more appropriate.

Why I Like Japan Reason #2: Nostalgia

2010-01-27T09:02:00.000-08:00

Japan, it has to be said, is gaga for nostalgia. Anything that evokes that "takes you back" feeling is known as natsukashi 懐かしい in Japanese, and spend even a little time in Japan and you'll hear that word a lot. It's big business, this natsukashi. With something like 20% of the population over 65 and rising, anything that recalls the good ol' days is going to be popular. The number one music show on TV is a '70s-style variety show where aging superstars belt out enka tunes that last saw chart action in 1964. Even young people, such as American-born enka singer Jero, keep the oldsters giddy by singing the old songs. And should Japan's graying citizens want to have a little fun, the country is full of amusement parks for adults that resemble Japanese society in thr 1950s. Even entire towns have found that if they open a few penny candy stores and leave an old car lying around, people will flock to see it.

And I love it.

The time period everyone is natsukashi for is the Showa Era, from 1926 to 1989. It includes the war years, the post-war years and economic rise, and some of the bubble years. For many older Japanese, who were born after the war (as with our baby boomers), Showa was a time to look back on with moist emotion. They remember doing without in the lean years after the war, and doing with, during the wild bubble years. They remember their student days in the late '60s, when idealism shut down schools in protest of the college entrance exams (nothing was changed). And they remember the pop culture.

So what does this have to do with me? I was born in Showa 47 (1972), and thus I too am prone to Showa nostalgia. Of course, I was born in the States and didn't experience all that my Japanese counterparts did, but I did grow up in the San Francisco Bay Area, where Japanese media was plentiful. I grew up watching Ultraman and Spectreman, Godzilla and the other Toho monsters, Gachaman (Battle of the Planets), Space Battleship Yamato (Starblazers), and more. The expensive die-cast metal Japanese toys were always the most coveted, as were the Japanese Game & Watch games that friends brought back from Taiwan and Tokyo.

Although I had no Japanese childhood, I have Japanese childhood nostalgia. Even things that were never part of my own experience, like '80s idols and samurai TV shows, instill me with a sense of nostalgia. Perhaps it's the way these things are packaged today in Japan. As I said, nostalgia is big business and anything old is presented with a sense of reverence.

But it's more than that. Watch a film from Ozu, the quintessential '50s director, or a Tora-san movie from the '60s, and you'll feel it too. Perhaps this has to do with the Japanese recognition that all things are temporary and transient, as with that ever-ready metaphor the cherry blossom, which blooms so beautifully for only two weeks and then passes, gracefully, like youth viewed from the midst of ever-increasing old age. Nostalgia is part of the national character, a sweet romanticism that I find enchanting and resonant.

This is part of an ongoing series of articles exploring my fascination with Japan. Previous entries include:

Punctuality

Why I Like Japan Reason #1: Punctuality

2010-01-26T09:16:00.000-08:00

People often ask me why I like Japan. A good question, considering I plan to spend if not the rest of my life then a good portion of it there. I have a lot of reasons for liking Japan. I actually like it more every time I go, and for different reasons. As I get to know it, I find more and more to like. But as I've never actually written specifically about it before, and with the JET interviews coming up where they'll likely ask this very question, I thought I'd devote some blog inches to exploring this topic.

Reason #1: Punctuality

Since I can't remember when, I have lived my life under this maxim: If you're not 10 minutes early, you're late. I hate being late. I would rather be an hour early than 5 minutes late. When I have an appointment, whether that be personal or professional, I will figure out the time it will take to get there down to the minute in order to arrive on time. And not only on time, but comfortably early so that I do not arrive flustered and out of sorts.

However, given the society that we live in, I have never expected others to behave the same way. Americans aren't as lax about punctuality as, say, Indonesians, but they're willing to arrive 10 minutes late and expect that most people will let it go. Time is money, sure, but what's a few bucks here and there?

In high school, I had a girlfriend who absolutely took advantage of my punctuality. I would invariably arrive 10 minutes early. An hour or so later we would finally leave. In between, I would sit on the couch, watch TV and get glared at by her grandfather while she talked on the phone, put on her makeup, listened to records, etc. I was a pushover, it's true, but she could have at least made an effort.

It wasn't until spending time in Japan that I realized that I didn't have to be the only one on time. Although I always resented it when people were (grievously) late, I tried to let it go. I'm the weird one, I thought. Others aren't beholden to the same neurotic compulsions.

Oh, but they are, I learned. An entire country is. You can literally set your watch to the arrival and departure of trains in Japan. The conductors use stopwatches, and the bullet train will usually arrive within seconds of its posted arrival time. And it's not just trains. Set an appointment and get there 10 minutes early, and your friend will already be there. I can't stress how wonderful a thing this is: they will already be there.

I once had a Japanese girlfriend who ended up being a few minutes late meeting me. I saw her coming towards me from down the street, running. She was actually running to keep me from waiting any longer. It was embarrassing but also it made me feel good, that I was worth being on time for so much that she felt she needed to run to make up for being late.

All those times I thought I was ignoring the tardiness of my friends and loved ones I was actually feeling disrespected. I cared enough about them to arrive early so I wouldn't keep them waiting. Why couldn't they do the same for me? Yes, traffic can be bad so anticipate it and leave early. Buses often don't run on schedule so catch an earlier bus. America doesn't work this way, but I do. And thankfully so does Japan.

We're Not All Gun-totin' Maniacs

2010-01-25T08:55:00.000-08:00

In yesterday's post I tried to address some misconceptions people have about Japan. Now, in the spirit of international relations, I'd like to address the Japanese on some misconceptions they have about the West, and the US in particular. These are all things I have personally experienced in my travels.

1. We're all Christians
I wonder where Japan got the idea that we're an overwhelmingly Christian nation? Could it be the President saying "God bless America" every chance he gets? I can understand how such a thing could come to pass, but let's not forget our religious freedom. And that also means freedom from religion.

2. We're all gun owners
Again, I understand. The world sees kids shooting up American schools on the news. But to turn this one around, from the sensationalist news reports I've seen, all Japanese carry around axes and knives to cut up their girlfriends, fathers and English teachers.

3. We all like sports
I am a pariah because I don't like sports. Actually this is pretty much universal. Maybe in France I could find good, sports-hating company.

4. We can't eat Japanese food
Sorry, friends in Japan. I hate to break it to you but your cuisine isn't all that weird. We've been eating raw fish over here for decades now. What else is there, rice and mushrooms? I think I can manage.

5. We can't use chopsticks
Again, been doing it a long, long time. The funny thing is, Chinese people don't think twice about Westerners using chopsticks. Of course they can, it's a useful tool. The next time someone praises me for using chopsticks I'd like to praise them for using a knife and fork.

6. We live amidst horrible violence
I have heard stories from young Japanese people about their parents being terrified to let them go to war-torn America. Killing in the streets! Mass confusion! I think Afghanistan and Iraq might actually be safer than the scenario they imagine for America. But compared to super-safe Japan, I suppose anything else must seem like a war zone.

7.We're loud, selfish and rude
OK, they've got on this one.

De-wackifying Japan

2010-01-24T09:39:00.000-08:00

As a Japan ~~apologist~~ ophile I often rankle at hearing my fellow Americans state the same misconceptions about Japan over and over. There are tons of them out there, reinforced by the popular media, the internet, etc. I tire of politely refuting them so, with this article that perhaps 10 people will read, I hope to put the entire matter to rest and open a clear channel to deeper international understanding.

1. Sushi is all raw
Not true. It may make a better story to tell people that you ate raw octopus, but octopus is routinely poached. Shrimp is also cooked—if it wasn't cooked, it would be gray, not pink. (Oh, and while we're on the subject, those fancy rolls covred with lava sauce or whatever aren't Japanese. They're American.)

2. Geishas are prostitues
The word "geisha" means "arts person," and that's what they are. They're trained in musical instruments, dance, that sort of thing. They may stroke your ego but that's all they're going to stroke.

3. Green tea can be sweet
Oh my God, no. It also doesn't have jasmine in it, or camomile, or whatever. It's bitter and it's good for you, so drink it.

4. Sumo wrestlers wear a "diaper-like" loincloth
I understand that it makes a handy metaphor to describe the mawashi as like a diaper but it's infantilizing, and is often followed by phrases like "giant babies." Yes, Japanese people can kick your ass. Get over it.

5. Panko is special
No, "panko" means "breadcrumbs." That's it, Rachel Ray. It's white bread torn into tiny pieces.

6. Anime is the pinnacle of Japanese artistic expression
Sorry, but it's not. It's also not real life. It is, however, a viable reason to learn Japanese. I have reversed my stance on this. Any reason to learn Japanese is a viable one.

7. Japanese game shows are crazy
They're not. They're not even game shows. What you see on YouTube are C-list celebrities being paid to do those wacky stunts. The shows like "Takeshi's Castle" have been off the air for decades.

8. Japanese TV is amazing
It's not, not any more. Clips of women having orgasms on TV and things like that are from 20 years ago. If you want crazy TV like that, go to Europe. If you want to see a chimp eat with chopsticks, watch Japanese TV.

Next time, to be fair, I'll tackle the misconceptions Japanese have about Westerners.

Jet Interview Preparation

2010-01-21T09:26:00.001-08:00

Waiting. Waiting to hear from the JET Program to see when (or even if) my interview is. According to the American site for the JET Program, interviews start sometime next month. Canadian and English applicants have already been notified, apparently. This is driving me crazy.

The JET Program is my top choice for teaching English in Japan. It pays the most, offers the most assistance, and has high recommendations from former participants. I really want this job. However, getting back over to Japan is, for me, the most important thing, so if JET isn't going to work out then there's tons of other places to send my application to. I just haven't yet because I'm waiting to see about JET.

Then there's the interview. Will they be friendly, or will they be terrible? There's no way to guess. I've done long job interviews before so I know how stressful it can be. As long as I'm prepared and can have high confidence—after all, it's in their best interest to hire me because I'll do an awesome job—then I'll be fine. And if I don't get the job, then there are lots of other places that can use me.

I really want this job though.

(I didn't make that image, by the way. I think it's from Tofugu. I found it on Google image search.)

Finding Japanese Music Online

2010-01-18T07:49:00.000-08:00

Ever since I started studying Japanese five years ago, my interest in Japanese music has steadily grown. In the past, having even a passing interest in Japanese music meant getting hit hard in the wallet, having to pay import costs on already expensive Japanese albums. Well, I won't say why that problem's been solved in the 21st century but if you're reading this, you likely know what I'm talking about. I don't want to out and out endorse the current (anti-)business model of music on the internet, but hey, it sure is convenient for us music fans.

OK, financial part solved. But how do you find the music? I'm the first to admit, it can be tough. Randomly stumbling on good Japanese music blogs is one way, as is getting links from friends who've done the same. I've been stockpiling bookmarks to some of the best Japanese music sites and I thought I'd share them with you.

Beautiful Noise
http://beautifullnoise.blogspot.com/
Not exclusively about Japanese music but there's a lot of it on this site that focuses on post-rock, ambient and shoegaze music.

Japanese Old Prog/Psych Rock
http://community.livejournal.com/japan_old_prog
Pretty much what it says. It hasn't been updated in a while but there's still lots of great old bands from the 60s and 70s here, like Les Rallizes Denudes and Flied Egg.

Oldies But Goodies
http://tsuzilla.blogspot.com/
Here is where I reveal my inner nerd. Yes, this is a repository for 80s idol groups. Yes, I love it. And you should too.

Japshare
http://japshare.wordpress.com/
Name aside, this is a great site for discovering recent Japanese bands that don't make the charts. My latest faves Supercar are well represented (plus their solo material) and there's tons more like them.

Cutetapes
http://cutetapes.wordpress.com/
This is a very recent discovery and as such I haven't had much time to explore, but it looks promising. More on the fringe than any other site mentioned here. A cursory look reveals Merzbow & Pan Sonic, the Japanese Eel, and lots of non-Japanese breakcore.

Another good source for Japanese music are message boards, particularly ones from Thailand, Russia and China (actually, this is true for anything Japanese you may want, like pictures or magazines).

Happy hunting.

That's Entertainment

2010-01-14T09:07:00.000-08:00

Being an American, it seems I've been lead to think that the world copies what we do. That we're the fashion leader and everyone else can't wait to mimic us. This may be true on some level, particularly when it comes to movies and television, but we are not the only force of influence in the world. Far from it. I personally was influenced by British mod and skinhead (this is late '60s skin, not '80s flight jacket skin) looks. And of course Europe, particularly France and Italy, continue to be high fashion leaders. And then there's Japan.

In Asia, Japan seems to be the culturally dominating force. Its music is popular all over Asia, despite the language barrier. It exports its fashion sense, through magazines. I'd even go so far as to claim that—particularly for women—it's the Japanese facial structure that is most desired.

First, music. Like Europe, Asia is comprised of a lot of small (and some not so small) countries in a relatively close area. It makes sense then that cultural products would go back and forth. Being from America, where everything not American is faraway and even undesirable, it's sometimes hard to grasp this. We might get a few British bands reaching into the Top 40, but when was the last time a foreign-language song was popular? The '80s? Japan has been selling its music into Asia for a long time with little trouble overcoming the language barrier.

In the past, concessions to local languages were occasionally made, like Puffy's Mandarin-language versions of its bigger hits. But now, the trend seems to be to co-opt and sell back. Take Morning Musume for example. The decade-strong all-girl J-pop group, like Menudo, graduates its members when they get too old. A few years back the group's producers held auditions in China to find new members and, one can assume, expand its audience. The new members sing in Japanese and are, for all intents and purposes, interchangeable with the other members. But they're there, and China knows it. Likewise with Sweet Vacation, a techno-pop duo comprised of a male producer and young female singer. Same as it ever was, except the singer is actually Thai.

While May sings in Japanese almost exclusively, they have released Thai-language versions of some of their songs in Thailand. Discovered in Thailand, groomed in Japan, and sold back to Thailand. (And, although I don't remember her name, there's also another singer, discovered in her home country and now working in Japan with Japanese producers. I think she may be Nepalese.)

Japanese media available in other Asian countries are not restricted to music. Japanese magazines are readily available, depicting Japan's unique, homegrown styles and fads, which are soon adopted throughout Asia. One example is the recent school girl fashion boom in Japan, as worn by groups like Scandal and AKB48. May, Sweet Vacation's Thai-transplant singer, has even been hired to model school girl-inspired outfits.

Of course, along with clothes comes personal appearance. The Japanese "look," that being light skin and wide, doe-like eyes, is popular throughout Asia. However, for the Japanese this is as much of a construct as it is for non-Japanese, with everyone using skin whitening creams, eyelid glue to hold open the eyes, and contacts for maximum doe-eyed effect. I'm not sure where exactly the blame can be placed. Certainly there's a Western effect happening, with large eyes and white skin valued over Asian eyes and brown skin, but that's too simple. Japan has long valued white skin, centuries before ever encountering Caucasians. And in the West, we're more interested in being tanned brown, images we eagerly broadcast back out to the East. I suppose the stylistic hallmarks of anime and manga are somewhat to blame too.

As in the images in the picture above from a personals site, you can no longer tell whether someone is Japanese, Chinese, Thai, or even human. Japanese style may have been the jumping off point, but where it's going is somewhere else entirely. More than human? Time will tell.

California Haikyo

2010-01-12T08:54:00.000-08:00

Just south of San Francisco is the Gilroy Hot Springs, also known as the Yamato Hot Springs. It's an abandoned hot springs resort of the kind you might find in Japan. Yes, I do mean the abandoned kind you might find in Japan.

Abandoned locations are known in Japanese as haikyo 廃墟. It basically means ruins, but for a lot of people it means a place to explore. For many people, visiting haikyo sites is their hobby, and they take pictures and post them online. Do a search, they're pretty interesting.

I first heard about the Yamato Hot Springs from a friend, who claims there's a big torii (shrine gate) there and everything. Curious, I did a little snooping around online and found out about the place.

It was first established in the late 1800s as a place to "take the waters," as they used to call it. It was a rich person's destination, with the then mayor of San Francisco coming down to party with singers and business tycoons. By the late '30s it had fallen out of favor with the upper crust and was purchased by H. K. Sakata, a local Japanese lettuce grower.

Now known as the Yamato Hot Springs, it became a cultural center for Japanese and Japanese Americans, hence the torii. Although Mr. Sakata was interred in a relocation camp during the war, his business partners kept the springs open, and after the war many displaced Japanese American families used it as a temporary shelter.

The site is now part of a state park and is a State Historic Landmark. It remains closed while it is decided how best to handle the extensive repairs necessary to make it safe again.

Although I'd really like to go, it seems like just hopping the fence would be disrespectful given its history as a sanctuary. However, the Friends of Gilroy Hot Springs, the de facto caretakers of the site, offer guided tours for a small fee. Anyone want to join me on a tour?

New Site

2010-01-09T12:39:00.001-08:00

I've launched a new site, Dope Computer Music, as the home base for my musical endeavors, be they dubstep, ambient, downtempo or whathaveyou. Check it out!

Dope Computer Music

There'll be links to my mixes, songs, all that stuff, plus writings about music, which I feel is a little out of place here (unless it's about Japanese music, of course).

The Secret Life of Youtube Comments

2010-01-08T07:36:00.001-08:00

Back in 2008 when I was living in Japan, I posted a short video of two baby monkeys playing at a monkey park to YouTube to illustrate a story on my then blog. Here it is.

For awhile no one commented, but then a funny thing happened. The more people randomly found it and commented, the more the comments took on a life of their own. It's as if the people didn't even watch the video and just commented based on what people had said before.

Here's the comments list, in its entirety.

thats so cute I love baby monkeys I want one
so cute
hehe this is kwl lol
cute
(So far, so good. Now watch what happens.)
LOL @ 0:24, "GIMME MY STICK BITCH!!"
if i had 2 monkeys id do that with banaanna
69 forever
monkeys are awsome
lol so cute
that monkey got tea-bagged multiple times.
aww so cute lmfao 69
lol hes like gimmie the stick! then hes like fine ima hit u in the head then... SNEAK ATACK! then hes like we can share SIKE! then the other 1s like *sniffle* i wanted thats stick *sniffle* GIMMIE!!! NO!... SNEAK ATTACK! " FIGHT " THEN HES LIKE IM SITTING ON U!! HA HA!!!!! ROFL SOOO FUNNY
cute :)
is the one monkey jerking off the other at the end
hahahahaha thats what i thought.
-Judo floor practicing to me!
Borat: hotel scene...
wow what is he doing at the end???
Just like my junior school,but not the examining of the mating tackle!!!
stupid video
so cute

So there you go. This is the kind of inanity that 26,592 views will get you. Although, now that they mention it, it does look like something kind of fishy is going on there at the end.

Shinto and Me

2010-01-04T08:31:00.001-08:00

The other day a Japanese friend asked me if I had done hatsumode, the first temple or shrine visit of the year, yet. (Take a look at a post I made a few days ago about looking for a suitable place to do hatsumode.) There are plenty of Buddhist temples in the Bay Area but no Shinto shrines. I explained this to my friend, born and raised in Japan, and she asked, "What's the difference?" For me, everything.

Buddhist temples are interesting, and I find the teachings of Buddha fascinating from a philosophical and psychological standpoint. I like the architecture of temples, I like their tranquility. But I am not spiritually moved by them. I am, however, spiritually moved by Shinto shrines.

That my Japanese friend was not sure of the difference of her country's twin religions wasn't all that surprising. Indeed, for more than a thousand years there was no difference. Buddhism and Shinto existed syncretically, supporting and completing each other. Shinto, Japan's native religion, is about life as it is lived in the here and now, Buddhism about life later (or after life). Shinto ceremonies cover children and weddings, and Buddhism funerals. Shinto is animistic and pantheistic, with room for ever more gods. Buddhas, come on in. It was only in the late 1800s that Shinto was separated from Buddhism as part of a political movement to deify the emperor and legitimize a new form of government. This lead to State Shinto and all sorts of unfortunate Imperial expansionist policies.

But getting back to the matter at hand, there are no Shinto shrines in California. The nearest one is the Tsubaki Grand Shrine, in Washington, near Seattle. Not being able to go all the way there myself, I sent away for two omamori, amulets blessed and purified by the shrine. I got one for business, as this is the year I start working again, and one to make sure I choose the right path in life.

That I, raised as an athiest, should care about these kinds of things at all is evidence of how much I feel an affinity with Shinto. What started as a fun way to participate in Japanese culture has become something important to me. Do I really believe that a god will help me get a job? No, not really. Do I believe that by making a commitment and focusing my energies on something, I can help it to come true? Yes, surely.

But there's more. In Shinto, I feel awe. This is harder to explain. In fact, I think that's part of the definition of awe, that it's unexplainable. Let me give you an example. For hatsumode in 2008 I traveled all day from Oita, in southern Japan, to Matsue on the Sea of Japan coast, to visit Izumo-taisha, an ancient Shinto shrine. Set in the forest amongst mossy trees, its beautiful, pre-Buddhist architecture a reminder of a Japan long past, the shrine complex so moved me I couldn't help but cry. It was as if I had been there before. The experience of awe was incredibly palpable.

The Tsubaki Grand Shrine has this to say about Shinto:

Shinto emerged and developed spontaneously as an expression of the deep intuitive connection with Divine Nature enjoyed by human beings in ancient Japan. Shinto, as natural spirituality, is based on a harmonious primal relationship with the "infinite restless movement or Great Nature" rather than on the written or reveled teachings of human beings.

That last part is especially important to me, and until reading this pamphlet that accompanied my omamori I had never heard it said about Shinto. I have long felt that, for me, for a religion to have validity I must feel it directly. To be told how and what to feel by a person, whether that person be the Buddha, Jesus Christ or Muhammad, even should one of those people appear before me to deliver a special message, is still one person removed from me. Shinto, however, does not proscribe. These are no saints or teachers. There is only nature. And this makes sense to me.

I was not able to find a local shrine to visit this year, but I was able to find the Tsubaki Grand Shine online, purchase omamori, and thus receive this message that helped validate my feelings about Shinto. Sounds like a pretty good tradeoff to me.

2010 Horoscope

2010-01-03T08:24:00.000-08:00

Normally I don't put much stock in horoscopes. Sure, they're fun to read, and we're always looking out for connections to things that are already happening in our lives, but the horoscope in today's San Francisco Chronicle was just too spot-on to ignore.

Here's my horoscope for the year in full.

Aquarius (Jan. 19-Feb. 17)
This past year saw you thrust into the limelight in at least one unexpected manner. Now, as the world turns, your own private drama expands even further. Expect a dream to literally come true in 2010 as you move to solidify last year's gains. A friend (or friends) will be involved in a major way. In other words, it's one of those "not what you know but who" things. (Get out your address book.) What you do on Feb. 13 has the power to change your life forever. Come July 25, you'll enjoy celebrating yourself. You deserve it!There's a lot of stuff in here that doesn't apply to my plans for 2010 so we'll just conveniently ignore that and focus on what does.

1. "Expect a dream to literally come true in 2010 as you move to solidify last year's gains."
My dream that is slated to come true this year is finally being able to work in Japan. As I've talked about here before, I've been working towards this dream since the day I came back from my first trip to Japan in 2004. And last year's gains? That would be graduating college with a BA, a necessity for getting a work visa in Japan.

2. "What you do on Feb. 13 has the power to change your life forever."
Assuming I'm granted a job interview with the JET Program, the program to which I applied last year, it will be in February. Perhaps even... February 13?

3. "Come July 25, you'll enjoy celebrating yourself. You deserve it!"
Should I get the job, I'll be leaving on August 1 for Japan, which would put my going away party right around July 25. Uncanny!

Study Resolutions

2010-01-02T07:40:00.000-08:00

I'm not really one for New Year's resolutions but this year it behooves me to stay on top of the Japanese studies. How is this year any different from the past five? Because this year I am no longer a college student and don't have things like teachers and tests to keep me in line.

The plan is still to go to Japan this summer to work, so at the very least I would like to not backslide in my knowledge. Best case scenario is I actually learn and retain something between now and then. So that the next eight months are not a total Japanese language vacuum, I have some books I'd like to finally get into. Most of these I've bought over the past few years but never had time to crack.

Japanese Respect Language, P.G. O'Neill
This is the first. With job interviews coming up next month I had better be clear on my keigo (respect language). I'm pretty good with verb conjugation but a brush-up is in order.

Read Real Japanese, edited by Michael Emmerich
An annotated reader of Japanese fiction. I'm at the stage where I feel I can finally tackle fiction, as opposed to expository writing. Comes with a CD too.

Basic Connections: Making Your Japanese Flow, Kakuko Shoji
I've been going through this in my free time the past week and it's extremely helpful. It covers a lot of little grammar points that tend to be forgotten, like the fine differences between kara and node.

Jazz Up Your Japanese With Onomatopoeia, Hiroko Fukuda
Gitaigo and giongo are my weakest areas in Japanese, which sucks because they're so commonly used. Being able not only to understand but use these effectively will be a big jump towards fluency.

Beyond Polite Japanese, Akihiko Yonekawa
Slang is always fun and breaks up the tedium of studying things like kanji. Speaking of...

Anki
I've loaded up Anki with the JLPT level 1 kanji. Not that I plan to take that test this year but it's a good level of kanji to study. (I highly recommend Anki as a way to study kanji and build vocabulary. Get it here for free.)

Talking about the books I want to study is all well and good, but actually studying them is a different matter. There are all kinds of other things I want to do with my new-found free time, like get back into making music, something I missed dearly while busy in school. However, maintaining my Japanese is important as well. Perhaps if I can set aside a few hours each day and follow a study schedule, assigning different days to different hours. Hmm, that sounds suspiciously like school.

I'll let you know if I make it happen.

How Do I Do Hatsumode?

2009-12-30T10:40:00.000-08:00

I was in Japan last year for New Year's, and was able to do hatsumode (first shrine visit of the year) at a few different shrines, both local and not so local. I was hoping to be able to do it again this year but it's looking pretty difficult.

You'd think, what with all of the people of Japanese ancestry in California, that there would be a shinto shrine here. And if this was 10 years ago, you'd be right. But in 2001, the Tsubaki Grand Shrine of America, the first shinto shrine erected in North America, was moved from Stockton to its present home in Granite Falls, Washington, outside of Seattle. Although I briefly considered making the trek, it really is too far. You can order omamori (amulets) through the website, so maybe I'll do that instead.

But that still doesn't help me come the new year. According to Wikipedia there are also shrines in Hawaii, Colorado and New York, and as much as I'd like a trip to Hawaii that's just not going to happen.

I guess instead of hatsumode I'll just go to Japantown and do hatsukaimono, that being the first shopping trip of the year.

On Fluency

2009-12-24T09:40:00.001-08:00

Having just graduated with a B.A. in Japanese, the question is, am I now fluent in the language? People often ask me this. They assume that since I've spent four years studying the language I should have some high level of proficiency in it. This is sadly not the case. I do OK—I have all the basics down and can understand most of what someone says to me—but what I understand still outpaces what I can say, and what I say often comes out haltingly. I remember reading somewhere that getting a degree in Japanese is "a good start." So when will I be fluent?

Perhaps first we should define exactly what fluency is. Is it being able to communicate day to day, bar some extraordinary circumstances like ones that require medical jargon? Or is it being comfortable in any situation, no matter how rare?

Let's ask Oxford. "Able to speak, read or write a language, especially a foreign language, easily and well." Pretty vague, this definition. Let's say I can hold court at my neighborhood bar "easily and well," but a conversation with a doctor or the stone-faced man at the immigration office finds me lacking. Am I fluent? Perhaps my fluency is situation-dependent.

Let's look at the Japanese word for fluent, "pera pera." This is an interesting word because it means fluent, eloquent, glib, etc. but also to blab or go on and on. Where we say "blah blah blah," the Japanese say "pera pera." So in this case, to speak fluently is to have the ability to babble on in a language.

If the latter is my yardstick (and since I'm talking about Japanese it may as well be) I am not fluent. I cannot babble on in Japanese. Not yet. After a year or two living there I am fully confident that I will have reached babble stage. Whether I can babble on with doctors and lawyers and IT specialists is another thing.

How do other foreign language learners define fluency? Or if not fluency, than being comfortable with how much you know of a language? Comments, please.

The Decade In Me

2009-12-23T06:12:00.001-08:00

All of the usual media outlets are doing their decade in review pieces these days so I thought I'd do one too, although one of a more personal nature. Instead of talking about technology or music or movies, I'm going to talk about me. Hey, it's my blog.

Ten years ago I was facing the new millennium as an editor at IGN. I had helped launch the site a few years before, had maneuvered myself into lifestyles content (music, movies, gear) and was making more money than ever before (or since). It was the high-flying days of the internet boom and we were all told (repeatedly) that we were going to be rich. Like the Y2K bug, it was all hype, and soon, with the market crashing, things started to fall apart for the internet.

As for myself, I realized that I had sold my soul for the promise of riches. I was moved away from music and onto IGN For Men, a Maxim-like site where I wrote about the "Babe of the Day" in the most salacious prose imaginable. I was routinely called a sexist and a pig, and although it stung I rationalized it as being a "persona," not really me. But real or not, it was eating away at my insides, and after the crash I had a sort of revelation about what I had done. So I took off for Los Angeles.

A change of scenery would do me good, I thought, and for 6 months it did. I was still working for IGN, albeit from home in L.A., and I was off the babes and onto music technology. A significant improvement. It was not to last, though, and I soon joined the growing ranks of the unemployed. I went on unemployment, cashed out my 401k, and drank beer with my other unemployed friends.

With lots of free time I decided to devote myself to making music and soon was releasing breaks records as Kemek the Dope Computer. I got DJ gigs, did some traveling, did some remixes, but it wasn't enough to pay the bills so I went back to work, this time as a copy-editor (and later managing editor) on a pair of automotive magazines in Anaheim.

Looking over this now, I can see how I got more and more off-track from what I wanted. I dropped out of college at 23, my rave lifestyle having taken precedence over scholastic pursuits. Because of an innate ability to write (and with the help of a friend) I ended up at IGN. But the days of finding a job with no college degree were disappearing. With so many people looking for a job, getting through that HR filter was harder and harder without a diploma. So I took a job writing about something I had no interest in (cars) in North Orange County, an average 2-hour crawl of a commute away from my home in Hollywood.

By spring 2004 I had had enough. I quit, sold my car, and went to Japan. At age 32 I was finally being spontaneous. It was a tremendous gamble, as any hope of a visa sponsorship hinged on finding a job at an English-language publication willing to overlook my lack of a college degree. Teaching English, the usual route for Japan transplants, was out of reach for those without a diploma. With no degree, and no real editorial jobs available, I had no choice but to go back home to the Bay Area, my tail between my legs, and start over.

But the seeds were planted. I fell in love with Japan and decided that no matter what, I was going to get back there to live, work, and do whatever else it is people do. And so, in the summer of 2005, I started back to school to get a B.A. in Japanese, first at a local community college and then, in January 2007, at San Francisco State University. I also spent 2008 in Japan as an exchange student. And now, knocking on the door of a new decade, with almost a full 37 years behind me, I am finally a college graduate.

The next step is to go back to Japan. I've already applied to the JET Program, to teach English in rural Japan. If that doesn't pan out, however, there are all kinds of other English teaching jobs. Now that I finally have that degree, nothing is going to stop me from living in the place that I love. And, this time 10 years from now, I hopefully can look back on a decade of living in Japan and tell you all about it.