And we were worried here.
This is another, I heard from, who heard from story, but it takes place in Iran. An Iranian-American travelling through a major airport claims they were stopped by police who asked her if she had a Facebook account. She said no, at which point the police are said to have taken her laptop, done a search for her name, and then jotted down the names of all her friends.
Full story at NPR:
Foreign Policy: Iran’s Terrifying Facebook Police
Filed under: Good Food, Korea, Travel, War | Tags: ajammas, Chomchi Jigea, kim jung il, pancreatic cancer
We get out of work around 11pm, which leaves the dinner selection quite limited. By the time I finished grading papers tonight, all the other teachers were gone without even saying goodbye. I guess it was a rough one for everyone. I think the humidity before the rain broke kept the energy level for students and teachers alike pretty low.
There is a great 24 hour restaurant right next to the school that we frequent. The night staff is two Ajammas who are always chatting away with each other when we walk in. The waitress Ajamma and the cook Ajamma. Sipping tea, gossiping I assume, and ready to whip up typical, really cheap Korean food at anytime of the night. I’ve learned more Korean from these two ladies than from anyone else in Korea. Endlessly patient, and used to all the foriegn staff at our school, they’ve taught each of us individually how to order, what to order, and how to figure out how much it costs at the end. They are amazing teachers. I stopped in by myself tonight and had a hot tuna and kimchi soup with rice on the side (Chomchi Jigea). Pretty tasty, and really spicy.
Aeri’s Kitchen – Blog with pics and how to make chomchi jigea.
When I left the restaurant it had started pouring rain. I keep forgetting that this is the monsoon season, and one should keep a compact umbrella stuffed in their purse at all times. The Ajammas were so worried about me going out in the rain, they insisted I take an umbrella from their stash with me. I fell so loved. Fed and kept dry, what more could you ask for.
On a completely different note….
It appears that Kim Jong Il has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
I saw it first on Air America Radio, which I enjoy but don’t always believe. A quick search around the internet, and it appears to be true. It seems he was diagnosed with cancer after a stroke last summer, but managed to keep it quiet.
The Guardian
The Korea Herald
NY Times
The biggest fear I have heard, is that people are worried about his son being a much worse despot than “the dear leader.”
Squids
I exhausted myself spending another day rambling around the markets. This time I headed to Bucheon, a much, much nicer neighborhood than Bupyeong I might add. A gorgeous view of the hills, really nice apartment buildings, and a great little downtown with tons of shops, thrift clothes stores, restaurants, and the usual flashing lights. I wandered up the main drag from the subway station, and was directed by signs saying “The Pearl S. Buck Memorial Museum.” It was the only thing for miles in English, so I might as well follow it. I have to admit to The Good Earth
Fisheees
When I was taking pics in the market, the vendor from the fish stand pointed to the big boy in the back and insisted I take a picture. I’m not sure what kind of fish it is, but I was meant to be very impressed. Unfortunately, I made some mistakes trying to figure out the new camera, and the only pics that really came out are ones of the fish. So that’s what you get.
I accidentally have a new camera. My old one is quite bulky and only has a resolution of 3.2 megapixels. Although it is quite durable and has travelled to many countries with me, I have to admit to looking at other, newer camera models. I mentioned this to a coworker, and he jumped in with,”Oh, I have a camera you can have.” It was left in a pile of discarded things from a teacher who left right before I came. Although it is newer and slightly nicer than my old one, it doesn’t seem all that great. It’s a Nikon coolpix L5. I’m going to try it out for a couple of weeks and see….
Octopus and Pretty Shells
Filed under: Uncategorized
Story on NPR regarding a computer hack that happened simultaneously to the US and South Korea. Effected major government agencies and began on the 4th of July. Believed to be done by either the North Korean government, or supporters of them.
Unlike Nepal, and similar to Thailand, one of the joys of living in Korea is that there is a seemingly endless variety of food. There are lots of mom and pop restaurants that have a speciality dish that the menu revolves around: pick your meat, pick how spicy, noodles or rice… and there you have it, an often veggie loaded, fairly healthy, tasty meal – usually for well under $10.
But even with all the variety, sometimes I get a craving for something that can only be found elsewhere. Say last week when we stumbled across a “western” bar in our neighborhood. Complete with topless statuettes of German beermaids, old Texas and Tennessee license plates, and plenty of plaques displaying humorous slogans regarding beer in English. There was something on the menu that to me looked like cheese covered bowtie pasta with red sauce. Cheese! Pasta! I’m not a huge fan of red sauce, but, cheese and pasta! We also got some fried shrimp and a beer. All set.
The shrimp came out first, and they were amazing. Large, tasty, great breading: the works. Feeling satisfied and triumphant, I was excited about my first glimpse of pasta since being here. Out came the next dish, a giant plate, covered with cheese. We dive in, not looking too closely, and everyone realizes at the same time that what we are mashing between our teeth is really way to chewy to be pasta. Chew, chew, chew, chew. It’s not really going anywhere. Taking a closer look, it was yellowish/white with little nobbies all over it. My first thought was Octopus? I can live with that. I’ve eaten octopus at Japanese restaurants before. But this doesn’t taste like octopus, and why would you put cheese on such a thing?
Next theory – well, they do eat a lot of intestine and such over here, maybe that’s it. Poking around the dish some more, I find our culprit. A very distinct, nobbly, skin textured piece that very clearly shows that it is indeed part of a foot. A chicken foot to be exact. We are eating sauce and cheese smothered chicken feet. Which explains the smell when it was brought to the table.
If it had been delicious, I’m sure we would have eaten it, declawed or otherwise, but, alas, it was not. It was tasteless rubber with an odd odor. When the waitress noticed we weren’t eating it, she took it away and brought us a plate of french fries. Something the whities always like.
The funniest thing about the whole experience was how convinced my brain was that it was pasta, that I was able to convince everyone else that’s what was in the picture. Looks can be deceiving.
Video from Gourmet magazine on Korean food. I highly recommend this for people who are interested in what we are really eating over here. Really entertaining and informative video. The North Korean grandma making mung bean pancakes was so adorable. Thanks to ZenKimchi for pointing the video out.
When I left the house this morning, I did not intend to come home wearing different clothes then the ones I had put on before going out. But that is how it goes during a day of shopping in subway tunnels and open markets.
I shouldn’t even say this morning, the schedule of starting work at 4:30 in the afternoon to get done teaching at 11:30, and begin winding down by 1 or 2am has gotten me in the habit of sleeping until almost noon. I wake up, have a coffee while catching up on facebook and e-mails, and then finally making my first ventures out of the house somewhere in the early afternoon. Since I have not bought any groceries yet, or even figured out how to turn the gas stove on, getting lunch is usually the first order of business.
I decided to meander down to my favorite place, in part because I love the food, and in part because the proprietor has become my only real friend outside of work in my neighborhood – a Pakistani man selling roti and kebab oddly enough. Through the open market, I spotted a skirt I adored. It is not easy for a well-rounded American girl to find clothes that fit in Korea. As I was holding up the skirt trying to judge if it would fit or not, the clerk, a short old lady, ripped it out of my hands, brushed it off like I had contaminated it with dirt far dirtier than what is all around on the street, and then spit at my feet. I guess she doesn’t like foreigners. I was pretty shocked, but didn’t think much about it until I started to walk away and realized it actually stung inside pretty good. So I slunk up to the Pakastani restaurant, told my story to Khan, who with a big smile said, “Don’t be sad, she probably drinkie. I make you curry, you feel happy.” And it was so.
Several cups of tea and conversations with a couple of Khan’s cousins later, I decided to head down to Kyobo to get a new discount card since my last one was stolen with my wallet. I needed to pick up the new choice for the book club with Susan and Veronica: The Lightning Thief 
I believe that American men pride themselves on their ability to examine your breasts without you noticing. It’s almost like sport. And although Koreans tend to be fairly subtle speakers by nature, that quality seems to be lost when it comes to the subway and my chest. I’ve been wearing more conservative shirts, but that doesn’t seem to stop the open gawking. To top it off, my boss was drunk the other night and declared that he picks his female candidates based on their chest size more than anything else. I don’t know if he was serious or not, but my friend Jon declared that he probably didn’t even listen to my answers during the phone interview, he was probably just penning “big American boobies” in the margin of my application over and over again while intoning, “uh-ha” and “yep” at the proper times.
Which brings me to the final excursion of the day. Again, a dress caught my eye, I stopped, and an extremely friendly clerk came out and helped me look. I said “maybe small”, and she said “no, no this big size”. She grabbed the dress, grabbed me by the hand, pulled me to the inner area of the market booth, held up a sheet, and made it clear that I was to try on the dress right there, in the middle of the market. Behind a sheet. In the open air. Well, okay.
So I tried on the dress, loved it, and although it was a little more than I would have liked to pay, I already had the damn thing on, which I suppose is the ploy. At that point she wouldn’t let me put my other clothes back on, joking that the dress was too beautiful. That’s some damn good salesmanship. So I bought it and was trying to chat with some of the other women buying clothes, and started to notice they were all pregnant. That’s why the dress was big enough for me – it was a maternity clothes shop. The only clothes I can wear in Korea are for pregnant ladies. Great, just great.
So in the course of a day I got spit on, had a great lunch, bought a beautiful (pregnant lady) dress, and got a great haircut for 10,000 won (less than $10). Now off to see if I can’t convince Jim to have a fourth of July beer with me. Yes, 4th of July is almost over here already, I’m way ahead of you.
Filed under: Korea, Travel | Tags: facebook, Foreign teachers in Korea, Jeollanam, Korean Prison
Jim went into Seoul to hang out with a teacher friend he made in an interesting transaction buying a motercycle. He learned some interesting news about a group of teachers that work at his friend’s school. Apparently one of the guys had set up an “event” on facebook inviting other teachers over for a rowdy game of poker. They were halfway though the game, which did include some wagers of won just between friends, when a fully decked-out police force entered the apartment, arrested the guys playing the game, and the last we heard they had been in jail since Friday night. The friend heard they are being deported for illegal gambling.
So the word is out that the cops troll facebook for things to nail foreign teachers with. I have a hard time chalking this one up to cultural differences. I don’t think there many folks besides extremely conservative religious types who would consider an inside game of poker true gambling.
If this a such a crack team, maybe they can find my wallet.
The fantastic blogger Brian in Jellanam posted a story about Korea opening its first “Foreigner Only Prison”. Of course, to justify the expense of such a thing, I imagine they would have to start finding prisoners, to, ahem, put in such a thing.
Update: New news and testimonial from one of the people involved in the poker night at The Marmot’s Hole.
Update: Jim talked to his friend again, and apparenlty where the Facebook connection comes in is that the police found a Korean friend on their facebook list and asked/forced that person to take them to the address of the poker game. (This is second hand information, that is the story I’ve been told, but I don’t know how accurate it is.)
Filed under: Books | Tags: Ann Patchett, Chuck Palinuk, Harry Potter, Madeline L'Engle, Manil Suri, McCall
A pretty lackluster reading month. Two titles really stood out, but most of what I read was stuff I wouldn’t have normally picked up, but the last teachers in my apartment were kind enough to leave an entire stack of books behind. Maybe luck isn’t as bad as it seems. 😉
The Sunday Philosophy Club
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Book 6)
The Magician’s Assistant
I don’t know how to explain it, but there was something about this book that was both engaging, yet devoid of life. As I was reading, I enjoyed the story, I was compelled to keep reading, but in my head the story viewed flat, like a movie on a banged up old screen. It is one of Patchett’s earlier works, and although not of the quality of Bel Canto, the premise was interesting. A magician’s assistant marries her magician, who she has been madly in love with for twenty years even though he is clearly gay, and he and his lover die of an unnamed, but identifiable disease soon after. She discovers that everything he told her about his younger life in their twenty years of friendship is a lie, and pursues his real family for answers to who her husband really was.
The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America
The Death of Vishnu – Manil Suri
Fight Club
I think the only reason I enjoyed this book is because I’m the only American under 35 who has never seen the movie. Interesting, disturbing, great twists, and can be read in it’s entirety on the subway ride from Anguk to Bupyeong Market.
Many Waters
I am sunburned and exhausted from my trip down to Suwan today, but here are some pics.
Every Sunday at 2pm they do a traditional dance and cultural event. There was some great tea to be had as well. Look Carrie, it’s like fire dancing and drumming all in one! The streamers are actually attached to their hats and spin around to leave their hands free to play instruments. It was fun to watch.
An old percussive instrument.
A story etched in slate on the side of the building.
From the palace, I looked up the hill and saw what I’ve been looking for. Finally a Buddha!
I think this was a temple on the grounds of a school for young monks and people studying Confucianism.
So while I was sleeping last night, Jim went out to the store. He didn’t bother to lock the door, since we live in a private building, and he was only stepping out for a little while. Plus it was about 3am, the only people on the street are fellow foreigners calling their families and chatting, and some incapacitated drunk Koreans. Well, while Jim was out, and I was asleep, someone came into our apartment, stole my purse, dumped it out in the hallway, and made off with my wallet. Which had about $200 cash, my American drivers license (so I now can’t get a Korean one, not that I’d f&^%ing drive here), my Alien Registration Card, my American and Korean bank cards, my SS card, and what made me saddest of all since to me it makes me more of a resident than my ARC by my standards: my shiny new Kyobo card. (A chain of bookstores that sells English language books.)
Luckily my passport was hidden elsewhere.
It just keeps getting better and better.
One of the Korean teachers at the school graciously went down to the police station with me and filled out all the required forms in Korean. The cops were attentive and friendly, but basically said they couldn’t do a whole lot. I asked if they could knock door to door on our floor and ask if anyone saw anyone suspicious. They said that wasn’t within their authority. Well, what the fuck, what authority do they have? (To be quite honest, we’re pretty positive it was the crazy girl across the hall and her drunk, pilled-out boyfriend.) We knocked on her door this morning, pointed at my purse, and without even prompting the boyfriend said “You want money?” and then slammed the door in my face. The cops didn’t seem to think that was very compelling.
Although this has been an inconvenient set-back, for the most part things have been pretty positive. Even with the quarantine, even with a chauvinistic pig of a boss, even with someone walking in out of who knows where into my house while I’m sleeping, I have to say that the other teachers both Korean and foreign are awesome. I adore my students, even the ones that give me hell, and I’ve been amazed at how accommodating a lot of the shopkeepers are at my lack of learning any Korean aside from hello and thank you thus far. Korean restaurant staff and shopkeepers are masters of reading mime, and are usually full of smiles and good will.
So here’s to another week of not getting bombed by the Dong II master and my own series of unfortunate events.
Ruby Ramblings 