korea4ayear

Thailand, Ms. Morrison's Visit and Yeonggwang Tour Photos!!!

To all who continued loading up the blog throughout the dark span without any pictures, firstly thank you and secondly, here's your reward. 

I've posted albums in the left sidebar titled "Roz and Rosalyn in Yeonggwang", "Thailand Part 1", and "Yeonggwang County Tour". These titles won't disappoint. The albums include photos from these three events which have been the highlights amidst the daily grind of Winter break desk warming!

Here's a couple pics to wet your whistle but you should check out the full albums. I'm going to be updating captions and titles of pics when I get time, plus I'll be adding the remaining Thailand pics as I can.

  
 
 
 

Thanks to all of our family and friends who do come and see what we've been up to in the past two months...

Pictures With the Luce

Fall time in Korea came and went quickly as the temperature ratcheted lower and lower into December. We experienced three separate weeks of snow where the accumulation totaled over 12 inches and ranged above two feet!

Here is a list of long awaited pictures of Rosalyn, Lucy and Myself during the month of December...

This first set is of the Luce napping:

     

Next we have Rosa's best dog friend (besides Lucy) Oh Dung Ei, some Korean kids who loved lucy, and a woman getting her Korean toddler to hold up a peace sign, even though the Koreans think of the Peace sign as "V for Victory". Lucy eating one of her favorites, a sweet potato, and a "bustling" Yeonggwang Downtown intersection. 

        

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Translating Korean (...or Any Foreign Language) Web Pages into English Made Easy

Should anyone be trying to find an easy way to translate web pages from Korean to English I've found a really effective and simple way to do so. If you download the Google toolbar into Internet Explorer you can simply use the translate button to translate Korean pages into English. It doesn't work on some text and many hyper-linked navi-buttons, but it facilitates easy to understand English versions of articles and web pages such as www.Naver.com and www.daum.net.

Click here to download Google toolbar and then click on the drop-down menu on the top right of the page to get it into English if you're in a foreign country when you load the page.

Be sure to set the language settings of the Google tool bar, by clicking on the "blue wrench" icon, then "tools", "translate" and "edit", so that Google toolbar will automatically translate any page in a foreign language into English. There can be some difficult glitchy circumstances encountered when using the automatic translation settings of the toolbar so I generally use it as needed by clicking on the "translate" button on the toolbar.

Below are before and after screen shots of what you can expect from the translator!

Enjoy...

Before:

 
  

After:

 
 

I Love Lucy!

For most of you who don't know yet, Rosalyn and I adopted a new little girl puppy named Lucy! She is just over four months old and adopted from the animal rescue center in Gwangju. She is a Jindo breed dog but we think is mixed with a German Shepherd as well, making her extremely independant and intelligent. She does everything with us and is getting to know and trust us more each day. She was a stray so she has been slow to warm up, but she has shown that she will be an amazing companion and friend to have during our time here in Korea and throughout our lives elsewhere.

We have pics coming to this page very soon, so check back within a day and you should find some great shots of her, us and the many friends she has made already!

The treatment of dogs and cats in Korea is very different and mostly unsettling to any foreigner from a Western culture. Rosalyn and I are taking this chance to help change the perception of dogs from one of disgust and fear to instead view dogs as a friend, companion and even family member. The practice of eating dogs in Korea is no secret, so we hope that saving Lucy and showing others that she is smart and kind will help change at least a few opinions during our time here while giving us a great new friend.

Fall in Jeollanam-do

October brings out the industrious side of every Korean as the climactic stage of most professions come due simultaneously. All students actively study for mid-term examinations while High School seniors doubly prepare for the college entrance exam. As if watching a silent film from the 30's amidst waves of ambient noise, I make my way to and from school in observance of the many occupations besides my high school teachers and students. Shop owners, farmers and tradesmen span the Yeonggwang spectrum, where the movements of life are evocative of an old and simple life.

Subtracting the things symbolic of economic development and imagining a Korea without LED's, LCD's, CD's, DVD's, MP3's and plenty of other techno-acronyms, I am not sure just how different Korea is now from a time long ago. It's not unusual for a grain mill to occupy less area than some American walk-in closets, while the machine repairman next door lives and works in a "shot gun" style space with a mess of chains, cranks, mufflers, and tools hanging in an intricate jumble from the sides of the long narrow space. The void separating work and home is nearly inconceivable to the Korean shop owner as the merchant lives in, behind, above or below the store front where his living is made. The foyer to many a home may actually be a showroom, kitchen or dining area, perhaps scattered with children doing homework or the family having a meal of their own. This close knit contact is a permanent fixture for most families here, possibly explaining the Korean view that relationships can decide one's fate and that your reputation is all that one has.

Of the area in Korea not occupied by concrete or a sanctioned park, all usable flat ground is covered in vegetables. Much of the land that would be deemed public space in the U.S. has been claimed by some person of rank or ego enough to plant a crop and reap the growth as their reward. Public space is readily occupied by personal ventures as sidewalks become drying platforms for grains farmed feet away and alleys become ad hoc markets for live sea food living in hard plastic buckets and barrels. The aromas of famous Gulbi, a dried and delicate scaled fish salted with sea salt, and tire turned manure mix to fill the evening air. Dusk creeps in early this time of year, offering only an hour of natural light once returning home from work. While many natives adhere to rigid social boundaries defined by seasons, status and sex, the barrier between sun and moon seems meaningless to the nature of Korean life.

The weather is mild yet bipolar in the fall months, gracing us with afternoon temperatures around 60 degrees Fahrenheit but ravaging the nights with lows around 40. The cool nights and persistent winds suggest that much of the weather patterns here are thanks to the massive bay between the Korean peninsula and mainland China, named by Korea the "West Sea" and by China the "Yellow Sea". The dually named bay which brings bountiful fish also bucks the cool falling Siberian winds directly to the Western shores of Korea, as if to symbolize the intensely competitive yet much shared history between the two nations. Dynasties of Korea have spanned over much of China while Chinese emperors have reigned over the peninsula, creating the two cultures now divided but always cogent of a shared ancient past in every day life. 

We're told it snows like the Dickens in our town, so we're bundling up and getting ready for a white Christmas. Wearing layers to school to fight the unheated school hallways is a definite first, while the thought of thermal underwear brings back memories of cold drives to Ballard High in the unheated Volvo. As much as we enjoy the scattered warm days, the evening wind sings songs of winter through the sliding windows of the ninth floor flat and tempts us to test our Ondol heating.

All said, Korean autumn is a frenzy of changing life and preparation for a less eventfully winter. The long break for Korean schools actually takes place in the winter, spanning the full months of January and February, and marks the beginning and end of a school year for students. Almost like a hibernation Korea stops for some time in the dead of winter and initiates the new year in March as life comes back to nature.

Chuseok!

This weekend marks the Korean Thanksgiving holiday known as Chuseok, which falls on different days each year according to the lunar calendar. Roz and I are taking the train to Seoul for the holiday to meet up with some friends from EPIK orientation and live up four days in the big city. Keep an eye out for a long series of pictures to follow, including our vacation to the capital...

Beginning of Class & Boseong Bravery

Seemingly no sooner than walking up the steps to Yeonggwang Go (High), I became well acquainted with the mentality of the Korean school system. Whether the job market is truly as dire as Korean's make it seem is unclear, yet so far this is the only rational reason I have found to excuse the twelve to fourteen hour school days for high school kids. In Korea, most decisions come straight from the top, with orders coming the presidential level or highest minister of education. Ironically, most Koreans embrace only enough of the expectations to honor their leaders while lacking passion and realization for why anything done. It is especially useless to ask "why" as a foreigner, because the answer will most likely be rationalized by a separate Korean norm which may be equally less practical to us. It does however, lead you to wonder how important figures could be decided upon when it is expected for all inferior ranks to think a little bit less than their superior.

It is truly inspiring how able the students of my school can overcome the system's refusal of personal life or choice during the grudgingly stressful months of school work and testing. Initially my arrival at Yeonggwang Go was perhaps the closest thing to starring in a red carpet movie premier I will ever experience. Students, scarcely able to control themselves, would venture towards me in the hallway to utter a "hello" or "nice to meet you" before scampering off in a fury of giggles through a nearby doorway. While flattering, sometimes I just have to laugh my way through my response and shake my head as I take a stab at any similar experience I might conjure up from my past. 

Now things have cooled off and I am beginning to feel the chemistry of each and every class unfold into unique and separate compounds, some more acidic than others and some that can't remain stable. Like a scientist who skipped his way through a masters and into a lab at the CDC, I'm mixing and matching trying to find a cure all method, when my patients are all suffering from different strains of the same virus. While all of my kids suffer inconsonant symptoms, there is always the constant of "fear", which seems most effectively diluted by a solution half parts fun and half parts competition. Like shimmering mirrors, they reflect my efforts and enthusiasm to a "T", always critical yet obliged to respond if given excitement to munch on.

Mrs. Park offered to take Rosalyn and I to visit her son's boarding school in the south of Jeollanam-do, near the town of Boseong, famous for the beautiful landscapes of green tea growing in steep rows. The catch turned out to be a request for Roz and I to provide afternoon English entertainment for a class of ten volunteers on Saturday. Falling on the weekend prior to our first Monday of class, we both knew the "pro-bono" work was sure to calm our first day jitters. The communication gap killed quickly killed any whimsical desires to cancel, as we agreed to crack the mold of our freshly cured EPIK "training" for a true experience of the famous Boseong Green Tea.

The tea fields were impressively fixed like ancient fixtures on the steep terraced hillsides on which the mature shrubs clung, yet it was the custom I first experienced in Boseong which impacted my memory more vividly. The public baths of Boseong are nearly as famous as it's green tea, as the various temperatures of water mixed with salt and tea are said to cure both physical and mental ailments. Not knowing what to expect, this experience happened to included a rude and abrupt introduction to public nudity. The public bath or "Mok Yok Bang" bears striking resemblance to my own conjured images of ancient Rome, where men strut casually across an expansive marble tile room, making their way from pool to pool of various temperatures and additives. The Boseong baths are specifically famous for the fresh sea water, cycled through the baths from the beach less than 200 yards away, and a green tea bath sourced from the steep farm hills surrounding the town. Both drastically foreign and incredibly refreshing, my consensus of these public baths is still undecided.

A Taste of Gwangju

Peering aimlessly over my desk at three framed scrolls, painted with thick charcoal Chinese character strokes, fails to ease my struggle to contain this place with words. Perhaps's these scrolls are distant relatives to the framed prints of eagles toting inspirational cliches, adorning U.S. cubicle jungles. Never the less the message they bear I may never embrace, since a supposed victory over the Korean text (Hangul) would allow me no closer to decrypting Chinese. Perhaps Buddhist monks developed an effective understanding for this culture long ago, determining that discovery was no more than the proposition of many new questions. I will relent that the past three weeks in Yeonggwwang have yielded greater understanding for my town, my province, and Korean life, yet the responses of laughter to my serious questions keep humble my infantile understanding for what has truly transpired before my eyes...

In Korea there is additional identification beyond a work visa to be acquired once on the ground. Akin to a Green Card in the States, the korean counterpart is an Alien Registration Card (ARC). The application for this card first took Rosalyn and I to Gwangju, a comparatively gigantic capital city of our region, which straddles a large "stream" and was recently made one of seven metropolitan cities in Korea. Mrs. Park graced Rosalyn and I with a ride into the city for our ARC applications and first visit, relieving us both of the burdensome korean bus time tables, printed exclusively in Hangul. Pressing to elongate our first experience of Korean city life, we agreed to stay after the ARC process and catch the last bus home, hoping to cab it across town to the Yeonggwang gate by 10:05. Once in the old downtown, "Joong-Ja-No", Roz and I immediately noticed a staggering amount of American fast food and imitation american clothing riding high and short on the hips of teenage Korean girls in every direction. Contrasting the West, here the recipe for fashion calls for pounds of short skirts and at most a sprinkle of cleavage, lest a young lady strives for incredulous stares while strutting her stuff.

The decision to leave Gwangju after such a tempting taste stung our pallets as we salivated towards the cab line, cognizant that we were still young to the city and under-dressed for gallivanting among "western bars", discovered via new Native Teacher (NT) friends. Meeting NT's in Gwangju is as simple as saying hello, on account of all foreigners here being military, NT's, or married into a Korean family business (formerly military or NT's). The "western bars" dominating the English social scene in Gwangju are Song's German Bar and Dave's Speak Easy; western hemisphere watering holes void of line dances and ten gallon hats. We would soon learn that Saturday night finds these English native dens full of smoke and off-tone Nouraebang, fueled by beer and laughter as softening nerves fire the last few backfires of the prior week. 

"Bus terminal"... "Yeonggwang"... "Bus 500"... Nothing seemed to stick on the cabby's blank face as I timidly tripped and choked over the pronunciation first in Korean, then English and back to Korean. Had my proud new pocket notebook of vital information and scalpel fine pen failed me so soon? Glaring back at a similarly confused Megook, our captain finally proclaimed "Bussah Toominahhh?" "Ne, ne, ne!" I responded, surprised that the training wheel dictation had actually worked before relaxing back into the clean warm leather. The terminal itself wasn't where Mrs. Park had instructed us to wait, yet it seemed to be a rational enough place to hail a bus home. Waiting through a short line found us facing a young Korean woman, to whom I leaned down to try my version of "Yeonggwang" through the holes punched in glass. Understanding my attempt and the two fingers I held in the air, she tallied up the total of 8800 on a digital screen. For 4400 kwon each (3.65 USD) we could take the Express Bus home in less than 50 minutes.

Perspective from new friends' tales of hard hours in Hagwons and the few dingy towns between Gwangju and Yeonggwang, reaffirmed our comfort in our new home as gleaming optimism fought anxiousness building in our stomachs for the first day of class now two dawns away. 

Structures, Night Out & Yeonggwang's Birthday

Nearly a full week in Yeonggwang has elapsed since our escorted arrival with "co-teachers" Mrs. Park and Sunny. I've guesstimated our town to be more or less 2 miles in diameter, nestled in a basin between a handful of steep green hills begging to be mountains. The structures, streets, people and odors summing up the metro area make a harsh initial imprint, yet omitting my Americana preconceptions the town forms a truer shape.

A capital of sorts, our city is the largest town in the country of Yeonggwang, nearly 60,000 citizens strong and once a central hub. The transportation age and its effects on trade seem to bypass our Yeonggwang these days, sending the famous local fare and produce direct to markets such as gigantic Gwangju, less than an hour away. The gritty shells of misplaced architectural styles scatter the skyline by day and transform to become neon covered silhouettes by night. Traditional houses buckle under the burden of old tile roofs leaning towards the street, while eight story glass embalmed towers find their foundation on nearly the same plot. The fading neon scripted "Sky Lounge" sits perched upon several floors of Cold War concrete, while a brand new Noraebang sports the latest in techno styled aesthetics. Perhaps the norm in such an ancient place is the admission of new life amidst heritage ten times the senior of my sovereign land.

Investigating such a unique landscape began as a timid exercise due to the virtual absence of english (written or spoken) in Yeonggwang and our slow progression towards Hangul fluency. Many of our major discoveries thus far have occurred at night, as if darkness prompts a more lucid Yeonggwang to reveal what lies behind the narrow glass facades of restaurants and shops. We have progressed admirably in Hangul, able to read road signs and menus if we recognize the words, yet only with the presisting sense of infants clawing to communicate.

Our new friend Woody invited us to dinner earlier this week and surprised us when we met him outside his hospital, having added a few more to the party. Eager to meet more friends and see Yeonggwang from the local perspective, we were introduced to Song, also a nuclear plant operator. Song was born and raised in Yeonggwang and quite proud of his dynamic home. With song driving Woody's car, the four of us found our way to a restaurant on the outskirts of town called 밀 향 기 (In Yong Ki), meaning "Wheat Fragrance". The meal was delicious, consisting of a large vegetable and seafood pancake dish, followed by shrimp & baby octopus soup with noodles and rice liquor. It was interesting to say the least, but surprisingly delicious and one of the first times I felt my stomach stuffed since arriving on the peninsula. After meeting Woody's other co-worker/friend Yah at dinner, the five of us caravaned off to a western style beer bar before ending the night by testing our pipes at Noraebang.

While walking through town yesterday afternoon we stumbled into a carnival-like festival almost by chance, but were unable to identify the reason for the festival even after meeting a couple of English speaking Turks peddling ice cream. It wasn't until stumbling into an English speaking girl our age named Sue, who introduced herself as a English teacher finishing her year in Yeonggwang, that we learned the carnival was the celebration of Yeonggwang's birthday. How old Yeonggwang had turned was never answered as we tromped through tent after tent of knickknacks, clothing and bizarre foods, but the aura of rural Korean holidays was quickly embraced.

Yeonggwang: Trip to the Beach and Temple With New Friends