Confessions of a Culture-Shocked Pansy

I'm going to take a break from continuity.  I promise I'll finish updating about Thailand when I have my computer back, but right now it's just another stress I don't want to think about.

I've been settled into my new/old home (What's up, Nashville?!) for about a week now.  I've got a great apartment to live in... at least until June, a car that I trust with my new niece (well... cousin's kid, but "1st cousin once removed" is too long), and I'm in the process of finding a job.  I have been Stateside for nearly a MONTH now... crazy, and I am officially experiencing "reverse culture shock."  As such, I'd like to present you with a list of things that I've noticed (good and bad):

1. Americans, in general, are a lot bigger than the rest of the people in the world... especially the people I met in Asia.  Sadly, I don't really mean taller here.  As a whole, we're an overweight people.  It's kind of overwhelming sometimes.  For example, I was sitting at the airport, and I kept feeling like a wall was walking toward me.  Yes, there are fewer people in our airports, but they're more dense.  It's a whole different kind of claustrophobia.
2. Driving is one of those things that you don't forget.  I've been rather nervous about this step, especially considering the accident I was in just before I moved to Korea, but I've now driven up and back down the East Coast, into the sunset, in the rain, at night, in the wind, and in decent conditions, and I've not hit anything.  To be honest, I'm a bit proud of myself.  Though I have noticed that when the niece is in the car, I drive about 20 mph / 30 kph below the speed limit.  I've been told that makes me a "pansy"; if that means my niece is more likely to be alive, I'll wear that title with pride.
3. People talk louder here.  They really do.  I know that's one of those things Americans get tired of hearing, but it's true.  It's a little on the obnoxious side.  I'll probably slide back into it sooner rather than later, though.  And then I'll be irritated with myself whenever I go back abroad.
4. I miss the language barrier. I walked into a coffee shop to have breakfast with a friend, and I could understand everything that everyone was saying.  I've so trained myself to listen for English that when I hear it now I can't tune it out.  Want to talk about things that are overwhelming?  Try that.  I also noticed that I so miss speaking in Korean that I was talking to myself in Korean last night.  I'm hoping that I can make some Korean friends here and solve that problem... Maybe they'll be willing to do a language exchange or something?
5. I like teaching. Sigh.  I mean, we knew that already.  I played "school" instead of "house" growing up.  Nevertheless, I think tutoring rather than teaching is a better direction for me.  I've applied for a couple of tutoring jobs to try and fill the gap that I'm sorely feeling in my life right now.
6. America is really very beautiful.  Like I said, I've been doing a lot of driving since I got back.  I hit Virginia the first week that the leaves were really changing (or so I was told), and it was breath-taking.  Even though I lived there for many years, I never really appreciated how pretty it is.  Seriously, of all the places I've been, no where else has done Fall like Virginia (and yes, I've been up to New England to see the leaves in the Fall.  Vermont doesn't even come close).
7. American food is ridiculously greasy and heavy.  I acknowledge the greasiness of Korean food, especially the "snacks," but American food is greasy in a different way, and I've already gotten sick off of it.  Granted, that's not totally the food's fault; I did allow myself some meat.  However, until I'm more used to it, I'm cooking almost all my own food.  Luckily, there's an Asian market very close to my apartment.  I'm going to go later this week (maybe even today?!) and see if I can get my hands on some kimchi and tteokboki.  (Yes.  I'm craving kimchi.  I don't want to talk about it.)
8. People say things that they think are kind that really just aren't.  I know people mean well.  At least, the people I'm thinking of do.  I'm trying to credit people for their intentions rather than their actions.  It's not always easy, though.  Please bear with me.
9. Americans really like guns.  Like.  Whoa.  Holy cow.  Was it always like this?
10. Americans really like nudity.  See above.
11. Gas prices are a lot cheaper than I was expecting them to be.  Seriously, aside from the way I felt when the man at Immigration welcomed me home, seeing gas below $3.00 (and not having it be a closed gas station) has excited me more than just about anything.
12. Speaking of which, Hearing the words "Welcome home." feels really good.  I can't explain it.  America has never felt like my home until now.  It's a really weird thing for me, and it's causing a lot of confusion in my life.
13. Reverse culture shock takes its toll on your self-esteem.  There's really not much that's more degrading than realizing you're not sure what to do in a social-setting in your home country.
14. Friends who understand are the best thing ever.  Those people who will just sit there with no expectations... who show up at your door with pizza in hand... who lay around and watch endless hours of movies even after you fall asleep... They're amazing.
15. It's easy for me to forget that Korea ever happened.  I'm back in the same town I was before I  went to Korea.  I'm doing a lot of the same things I did before I left.  The only thing that keeps reminding me that Korea happened is that I recognize far fewer people now than I did before.  It's really quite disorienting... to the point of nausea, actually.  It's kind of like that feeling that comes along with a strong medication: Everything's a little foggy... as if it could all be a hallucination.  It's rather unpleasant.
16. There are at least three different versions of Family Feud that air on a daily basis.  I think two of them may be in current syndication???  There is little that's going on that confuses me more than that does.
17. I constantly am afraid that people think I'm showing off when I read things in Korean.  I'm not.  I read things in Korean for two reasons. 1) It's the only way to get the information I'm looking for, and 2) What I'm reading is different and/or more interesting in Korean (like Harry Potter).  I'm not very good at it, and I probably can't translate it word-for-word for you or anything, but I'm getting the gist of it at least.  I'm not a poser.  I just adopted a second language that I really like and am trying to continue studying.
18. Eating out is expensive in America. And then you add TAX and a TIP... Actually...You have to tip in America.  That and non-included taxes.... gets me every time.  I miss being able to eat out for $5 a meal.  Kimbap Nara... come back to me!!!
19. Peppero Day and Veteran's Day are the same day.  How am I just now realizing this?
20. Last but not least (for now)... People decorate for holidays... specifically... Halloween??? I was at the airport just before Halloween, and decorations were EVERYWHERE.  I didn't realize that was a thing.  Or maybe I did and I just forgot.  I don't know... but it seems like a little much to me.
21. Edit: Bonus-American health insurance has nothing on Korean. I literally just started crying as I realized I can't afford a basic plan that would still bankrupt me if I went to the ER. I miss Korea. 

And there you go.  Twenty confessions of a very culture-shocked pansy.

Do you have anything you'd like me to try while in my culture-shocked state?  Let me know in the comments or via any other means of communication you have for me, and I'll see what I can do.  And, of course, I'll write about it.

Nine Hours in Shanghai

Recently, I came across some interesting information, announcing that China had decided to allow international travels up to 72 hours within Shanghai and/or Beijing absolutely cost and Visa-free.  Thrilled at the prospect of saving $200 on the Visa, I jumped on the bandwagon, booking myself, as I so often do, a long layover in Shanghai.  My anticipation of my time behind the Silk Curtain alternated between excitement and trepidation, as all I had in my head was this very Americanized idea of iron-fisted communism, very wealthy upper classes, very poor lower classes, and a superiority complex.  Despite my efforts to have no opinions on things I've never actually experienced, China and all the stories I've heard about it has grown some ideas for me.  I knew this was just a stereotype, so I tried to put it aside, and succeeded to for the most part.  However, a few things still managed to surprise me.  My friend warned me that Shanghai is rather Westernized, so I'm a bit reluctant to form any opinions (or even completely toss out my stereotypes) about China, but this is what I saw.

The Big Three of the Far East are conveniently now
stamped on adjoining pages in my passport.

Getting through customs was surprisingly easy.  I expected people to know less English than they did and to know less about the 72-hour Visa than they did.  There was a moment when I was pulled off to the side and I worried that I was going to be detailed for questioning of some sort, but it didn't happen.  They just apparently needed a little more time for processing, since the 72-hour Visa isn't approved in advance or anything.  I was incredibly impressed that they had no problem with inspecting my itinerary off of my iPhone (Somehow, my printouts had gotten lost).  Everyone who worked at the airport, from the desk attendants to the security guards were incredibly helpful.  Way to win, Shanghai.

I was amused, I may note that the first thing I saw in China (not counting the airport, of course) was a McDonald's.  My word, they're everywhere.  I technically wasn't even off airport property, yet.  In fact, I was following a very "Secret Garden"-esque path to find the subway (note the green arrows on the road directing me to the line I needed).  I didn't stop because, anymore, even the thought of McDonald's turns my stomach (though I do partake in it occasionally if the right friend asks me to go).  I did notice that their menu seemed incredibly different from the rest of the McDonald'ses that I've seen in other places in the world, but I expected that after doing a case study on the franchise for international marketing.  (Just a tidbit worth noting if you actually do like McDonald's: Every region in the world has a unique McDonald's menu, catering to the specific preferences of the people there.)

I opted to take the subway (line 2) through Shanghai, as both airports are on it, and I needed to make an airport change.  I had read that you could pay a shuttle to take you across in about an hour, but I found the subway first, it was cheaper, and I figured I'd get a feel for the culture better on the subway than in a van.  So I put my Shanghai Subway Map app to work.  Not that I really needed it... like I said, both stops were on the same line.  In fact, everything I wanted to do was on that line.  But it was comforting to have nonetheless.

Things worth knowing if you ever decide to do this on your own: You cannot change from the 10 line to the 2 line at Hongqiao Airport T2 without paying again.  You must go one stop past T2 to do this.  Somewhere in the middle of the Line 2 (I don't remember exactly which stop), I had to change trains.  It wasn't hard at all.  I just got out and hopped on the next one going the same direction.  Everyone has to do it at that point, so just go with the flow.

While I was spending time on the subway (maybe about an hour and a half, give or take 15 minutes), I was surprised to run into a goodly number of German people.  Well... I guess that's relative.  I think I saw maybe 5 non-Asian people the whole day.  I struck up a conversation with one man that was pretty interesting.  He gave me some good tips on what to see.  I kept wanting to use my Korean to talk to people, though I knew it would do me no good, and I only know two words in Mandarin, though I doubt my tonality is correct.  Nevertheless, I used my two words.  For everything else, I smiled and bowed a lot.  This, however, seemed to go over well, and an older couple on the subway adopted me, praising my ability to get a seat in spite of being foreign and lugging some pretty serious luggage with me.  When we switched trains, they took up extra space on the bench to save me a seat.  It blew my mind that they would do that for me.  In my experience, that kind of kindness to a stranger is nearly unheard of in the East.  Let me emphasize nearly unheard of.  It's not that people are being mean or anything... it's just a cultural thing.  The two were so sweet.  We spent a lot of time smiling at each other, and the grandmother (I want to call her 아줌마, or 할머니, though neither of those are really appropriate as, once again, she was not Korean) made sure I saw that there were white people on the TV at one point (They were German, but it's the thought that counts).  Seriously, they just melted my heart and made my day.

Skipping forward, as this is already getting long, and I haven't even begun to talk about my sightseeing yet, I decided to go ahead and check in for my flight as soon as I got to the other airport.  It seemed like the easiest way to ditch most of my luggage, and, since the line was gigantic, I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

Asia never leaves you room to doubt where you are.  My word, there are PEOPLE in Asia. 

It actually moved faster than I feared it would, so I was able to grab a locker for my carry-on stuff and hit the Mag Lev train within an hour of my arrival.  In case you don't know what the Mag Lev train is, it does this:

Me, super excited about how fast we were traveling.

As a result, I was able to chop about half an hour from my travel time.  Maybe more.  I didn't pay enough attention on the way in.

I had thought about going to see the infamous Bund at E. Nanjing Road, but I wasn't really feeling it by the time Lujiazui Street came up, so I hopped off on a whim and figured I'd look around.  It turned out to be a good choice, because the Oriental Pearl Tower was right outside the exit.  It is my opinion that the Pearl is on of the coolest looking pieces of architecture out there, and it's certainly one of the most distinctive buildings in Shanghai, so I was thrilled with my choice.  I was so thrilled, in fact, that I dropped most of my spending money on a ticket to the very top of the thing.  That turned out to be okay, though, because it was incredibly time-consuming.  I didn't have a chance to go anywhere else, and I somewhat wish I'd had more time to spend within the Pearl.  Nevertheless, I'm very glad that was where I chose to spend my time in Shanghai, mostly because it felt like I could see the whole city from the top, but also because of all the cool things that I kept finding on each level.  I do wish I had realized they were there so I could have paced myself better.  I ended up getting so frustrated as I was having to bypass things on the way out to make it back to the airport on time to catch my flight.  I did make time for a quick peek at the various observation decks, though.  Each one had a different view worth seeing.

I still got to see The Bund... just from a different angle than people had suggested.

The downward-facing observation deck was somewhat panic-inducing, to the point that I saw several people flat out lay down on the glass once they looked down, but I am proud to announce that I stayed upright (though I did walk incredibly slowly and lightly to get my way back to opaque ground).  I'm not sure why people don't really think about how high up they are until you put glass under them, but that seems to be the norm.  I suppose that's why we're always advised to "don't look down"... not that that ever stops anyone, but it at least makes a little more sense now.

I had thought ahead enough to make sure I grabbed a dumpling (For those who know what it is, this was definitely a 왕만두 and not anything remotely resembling what I imagined a Chinese dumpling to be.) and my customary new country Coke (another company that changes its recipe from region to region) to eat as I waited to get into the Pearl.  This turned out to be excellent planning, as I ended up needed to be one of those obnoxious people who asked if they could cut in front of everyone to make it back to the airport.  There was definitely some self-loathing that happened then, but I sucked it up and did what I had to.

Outside the Pearl, there were taxis waiting, just as I'd read there would be.  Even though I was positive (and I'm still pretty sure I was right) that the subway would be faster, my anxiety about the potential to miss my flight had me jump into the nearest mode of transportation I could find.  I was proud of myself for the ease with which I haggled with the driver over the price.  I didn't even stop to think about it.  It's not like I haggle all that much in Korea, but I guess living there has just made me more confident with the idea of doing it.  Once in the cab, I managed to convince myself to relax, and the driver and I had a nice chat about how awesome he thinks President Obama and Americans in general are.  I smiled and thanked him, then spent the next few minutes trying to figure out what America could have possibly done for China to make this man think our country is all that cool, but gave up on it when I realized that I could be taking advantage of the fact that I was now above ground for a part of the city that I'd only seen below ground and film my cab ride.  One incredibly close call between my hand and the front end of a bus later, we got this:

Welcome to China friends.

Getting back on the Mag Lev was amazingly easy, especially since my driver literally pulled up to the station stairs for me, proclaiming his love for Americans the whole time.  Getting through security at the airport was only marginally more difficult.  My customs security man was very chatty and curious about what I was doing in Korea and Thailand, but I just kept on smiling and answering.  I didn't even check my watch once (which, after estimating the time wrong in London and missing out on the London Eye during my first ever long layover, I had set for China time before I ever left Seoul).  Be proud of me.  I ended up having enough time to shop for a couple little people who are in my life before feeling the need to go wait by my gate.  Sadly, you have to have access to texting in China to get the airports free WiFi, but I can survive unplugged (usually), so it wasn't that bad of a wait.

Incidentally, I noticed  a family with what looked like twin young girls on the Mag Lev the second time.  I actually noticed several families throughout the day that were clearly Chinese and clearly had multiple children.  I had been under the impression that Chinese families were only allowed one child, but now I'm starting to wonder if that also was a misconception.

I will say, however, my experience with my airline, China Eastern, was not one that I ever intend on repeating.  A weight debacle that ended up costing me $200 and a lovely reinterpretation of the definition of "special vegetarian meal that you ordered" (confiscation of the main meat dish without replacing it with anything else) was enough to make me add them to my airline blacklist.  (Also on that list are Delta and Virgin, in case you were wondering.  Airports that made the list are Bangor, ME; Sofia, Bulgaria; and Jakarta, Indonesia... not that you can completely vow off an airport, but I'd like to avoid them as much as possible.  Incidentally, Turkish Air and American Airlines have made what I'd call a graylist for various reasons... Just proceed in booking with them with caution.)

All in all, for the traveler with the short attention span like me, I think this 72-hour Visa is definitely worth while.  I fully intend on taking advantage of it to see Beijing when I get the chance, especially now that I know how to anticipate things (though, let me tell you, it may take the full 72-hours just to navigate the Beijing airport, from what I hear...) and feel more confident that I'm not going to get arrested for simply thinking Western thoughts in China.  Hopefully this new Visa policy is going to be around for a good while, because I'm really liking it. 

My Love Affair with the Barrier

One thing I've noticed is how much my friends and I talk about the frustrations of living with a daily language barrier in our lives, and, even if we're not talking about it, we're basically always thinking about it.  You never realize what a big deal it is until you try to live in another country.  For example, try ordering food off a menu that looks like this:

You may be fairly sure you know what you're getting, but if you have any dietary restrictions, it gets pretty stressful.  Or maybe you want to find things after a store rearranges its shelves  Heaven help you if you want someone's opinion about an item or if you want to convince a doctor you'd prefer a natural remedy to medicine.  The language barrier changes our lives in drastic ways here, and we frequently find ourselves discontent with those changes.

As my two-year anniversary with Korea has been drawing closer and my time here wrapping down, I've found myself growing increasingly nostalgic and analytical (those may seem like strange bedfellows to you, but I feel confident that anyone with a background in philosophy or psychology will make the connection).  I've been thinking over all my time here, and I've come to a conclusion: For better or for worse, I'm in love with the language barrier.  Certainly, we have our bad moments, our arguments, but, overall, I think it's a pretty good relationship, full of give and take.  I already drew a picture of how frustrating the barrier can be, but let me show you some of its more wonderful qualities.

• I think one of my most (selfishly) favorite parts of the barrier is it's ability to hide me when I don't want to talk to people.  Thanks to the culture of my city and its particular barrier, I don't have to talk to anyone if I don't want to.  There are, of course, Korean-speakers here, and there are a good amount of English-speakers, but what you don't know is that there is a decent-sized Russian-speaking population here as well.  As a result, I can sit around and ignore all language that comes past me, and people will just assume I don't speak whatever language they've got going.  It's an introvert's heaven (well... in that aspect, at least).

• I am now much better at charades.

• Not being able to find things / communicate what I'm trying to find has helped me learn to prioritize: Do I really need this?  Would it be that big of a deal if I can't find it?  I've learned to let go of things that aren't so important and be persistent about that which is.

• But the absolute best part of the language barrier is this: I have built friendships that are not based on knowing the trivia of each other's lives.  We are friends because we care about each other.  We see each other on a regular basis and we've learned to read each others' body language.  We cobble together our own language for communication, but that's not the core of the relationship.  Smiles, waves, and laughter; frowns, sighs, and even tears - This is the foundation of these relationships.  These people have actively and repeatedly looked out for my best interests.  I may not be able to tell you their favorite food or type of movie, but I can tell you when they're having a good day, and that, I think, is much more important. 

A couple of impressive young men

Middle School is a hard time.  I would know... I went to three different ones, and none of it was easy.  I think that's why I find it most impressive when a middle schooler does something of character.  I think it takes extra strength to push past all of the hormones, self-discovery, and outside forces to shine through by doing something Good.  I want to take a moment to praise two young men who pushed through all of that on the last day before a long weekend.  These might not be impressive at first, but mull them over; I think you'll see what I mean.

The first is the less obvious example.  It requires a quick culture lesson, though.  One of the things that blows my mind in Korea is the relative lack of supervision the kids have here (ok, in my mind, it's more like an absolute lack of supervision).  They're allowed to do whatever they want, which usually means they're running around, screaming in the halls, and beating on each other.  This stops anywhere between 5-10 minutes after the bell rings to start class and is picked up again the moment class is over, although it often occurs more quietly during classes as well.  I know.  It's not at all what you pictured of Korean schools, but I assure you it's true.  Knowing that, it may be less surprising to you that I had noticed a slap fight starting in the back of my classroom, but ignored it in favor of finishing setting up.  I normally break those up pretty early in an effort to maintain a semi-Western-style classroom (in the name of culture lessons - not comfort, of course...), but not last Thursday.  Well, when I looked up again, something felt not quite right about it, but, by the time I processed what it was, it was too late.  The slaps had been getting harder, until one boy started punching the other in the face.  I could hear the impacts from the front of the room.  I kicked my shoes off and ran to the back of the room, bellowing "YAH!" before I grabbed the hitter from behind in a sort of bear hug, pinning his arms to his side.  The impressive part was that, instead of struggling against me, letting his adrenaline push him forward and out of my grasp (which would have been easy, as he's roughly a head taller than me), he went limp in my arms.  We both stood there, breathing heavily for about 30 seconds before I heard him say,

"Teacher, no fight."
"Yeah, I know 'No fight.'  That's exactly right."  I didn't let him go.  I didn't trust him.
"No, teacher.  No fight."
"Okay..." I said, slowly loosening my grip, waiting to see his next move.  I backed up, and still he stayed where he was.  He turned to meet my eyes.
"No fight."

I was proud of him, even in that moment.  I directed him and the other boy to sit at opposing sides of the back of my room, while sending another to go get a Korean teacher who I knew would be fair and would get to the bottom of what had happened.  The hitter was normally pretty quiet, while the hittee is pretty wide open and has a tendency to speak his mind, so I figure there's a decent chance that the hitter was provoked... not that that justifies rearranging someone's face, but it does justify further investigation.
Even in this moment, I glow with pride at the amazing amount of self-control this kid showed as soon as I got involved.  I don't like the situation, but I do like his actions once within it.

The second young man I want to lift up is more classic in the category of praise.  After school on Thursday, I prayed that G-d would provide me with some kids to take next door to the grilled cheese shop and buy a snack.  Well, He's generally more than happy to answer that prayer.  As I came out of the door of the school, there were about 8 kids sitting on the ground, waiting around for an after-school class.  I talked to them a little bit, mostly about their love lives.  One girl had just broken up with her boyfriend; one girl was yelling up to a third floor window to talk with her "husband;" one boy was gushing to me about how pretty his girlfriend was; one girl wanted to tell me about how she was chatting on an instant messaging service with her boyfriend.  All in all, I felt pretty honored to have them let me into their world.  The trick is that most of it was being relayed by the one boy who felt comfortable using English.  They all wanted to talk to me and I to them, but we needed a translator, and he was fully willing to help - never a sigh, never an eye rolled, breaking off mid-conversation when someone beckoned.  What's more, at the sandwich shop, he made a point of making sure the girls all got their food first, saying "Ladies first," when I looked at him in surprise.  You don't see that much anymore, but it was really nice.

And that, my friends, is me publicly praising two of my many amazing young people at my school.  Or, as my friends at Blimey Cow would say, "That is me supporting my local chivalry."

Psy's a Gentleman?

This is my preemptive strike at your questions, dear American friends.  You just can't get enough of Korea these days, can you?  Let me assure you, they're loving that over here.  Frankly, it's about time, too.  Korea is where the 90's went to hide from you.  90's music is over here.  90's clothes are over here.  90's computer games are over here... All of you 90's kids who complain because you miss that decade... How come you're still over there?  So Korea just had to leak a little Psy onto the scene.  Now, I don't think that Psy is an accurate representation of the full scope of Korean culture these days, and I know I'll be slaughtered if I even try to suggest that he's anything like the 90's, but I love that you're getting into him, and I hope that you'll use him as a gateway to other aspects of Korean culture.

So "Gentleman."  Let's hear it for the man that knocked Justin Bieber out of a record-holding position!  In just 24 hours, Gentleman had over 18.9 million YouTube views, as compared to The Biebs' then record-breaking 10.6 million views for his collaboration with Nicki Minaj on "Beauty and the Beat."  It's been a horrible week for that kid, and I can't help but feel slightly bad for him... that is, until I realize that it's pretty much his ego that's been causing all his troubles.

I'm hesitant to post the music video for Gentleman, considering the outrageously vast number of Americans who have already taken it upon themselves to watch all four minutes of the video before jumping to conclusions about what it means, but, since you're here at my blog, I'm assuming you're looking for a slightly more Korean perspective on the Korean singer's song that came out of - where? - Korea, rather than the perspective of an American who may or may not have even bothered to translate the lyrics before jumping into an in-depth analysis.  (Yes, that is an actual article.)  I'm going to put the video here, trusting that you will continue reading it even after you watch it.

Even as I put that here, this thing has a jaw-dropping 137,001,850 views.  Holy crap.  Sadly, it looks like we're going to have to put up with drop-crotch jeans a bit longer, because if that many people have watched the video, I don't think we're going to have able to keep them a secret anymore.  Seriously... why are you people wearing those things?  They look horrible.

Okay.  Let's start where it's easy... well... easy-ish.  The translation.  Thanks to a tip I got from a comment on an article with a translation, I realized that most of the translations you're going to find are missing a lot of the nuances of the song, going for word-for-word translations instead.  The best translation is (unfortunately for you, fortunately for Psy) found in the video of Psy's press release of the song.  Way to go marketing team, right?  So... if you want to get a good feel for the lyrics, you're going to need to listen to the song again.  Sadly, I've heard that there are some word plays in the song that I just don't have enough Korean language under my belt to be able to point out if there are any in the Korean of the song, but most of the English (like "mother-father" and "party mafia") is punny in Korea.  Here you go, listen away:

Now, did you notice the other difference?  Without the video, the song seems... less confusing?  Less poignant?  That's on purpose.  If you paid attention to my other Psy post, you already know that Psy loves the satire.  So I don't think anyone should be surprised when I say that he's done it again.  Let me clarify.  Psy is not condoning this mistreatment of women.  Psy is protesting it.

I've seen an article that I'm pretty sure is out of Canada mention that it could be a slam against rappers and the culture of violence (especially toward women) that seems to spring up in association with them.  Maybe he is, but I doubt it.  I've surveyed about 40 of my students (yes, for those of you who know my class sizes, that means I surveyed the one class I've had since I decided to make this post), and not a single one had any clue what was going on in the song.  They all knew what the word gentleman meant, and they all acknowledged that the words in the song didn't seem to match that.  But when I asked "So, why would Psy write it that way?"... crickets.  I gave my opinion, and they agreed it could be an option, although, I don't know how much of that was just a teacher-pleasing tactic.

Basically, I see it like this:  In Korea especially, there is a big problem with the inequality between genders.  Certainly, Korea isn't the worst country on this front, but it's far from the best.  Koreans my age and younger are really beginning to speak out about their distaste for this.  Based on his history of tongue-in-cheek exposés of topics he felt needed to be addressed in Korea, I think this song could easily be about the way men treat women in Korea.  There are many men who parade around, claiming to be gentlemen, while terrifying their families into submission, abusing their wives, and having affairs.  This is, unfortunately, somewhat normal, showing up even in one of the most popular dramas in Korea - My Daughter, Seo-Young - with quotes like "No normal man stays in love with his wife for three years."

Similarly, the general word out of Asia seems to be interpreting the song as a commentary on celebrities and their lifestyles.  It could easily be this, too, and, as I am in no way, shape, or form Asian, I would be more than happy to submit to that option, however, this is the word out of China and not yet the word out of Korea, so I am still waiting before resigning my opinion.  (Korea has remained rather silent on an interpretation.)

Now... that phrase you hear over and over - "mother-father" - is exactly what you're hoping it's not.  He is, in fact, saying "mother-father" and not some slurred/mumbled/un-enunciated version of "motherf*****", but these days "mother-father" has become a Korean euphemism for it's more colorful counterpart, much like dang or darn can be substituted for d***.  So, all these people who are wondering if he's trying to say he's the kind of man you can take home to mother and father... well, they're apparently not up on current Korean culture.

Finally, to answer MTV, he is most definitely saying "Wet Psy," not "West Side."  Although Psy did go to college in the States, he would have no reason to yell out "West Side" for his predominantly Korean audience.  Let's stop being ethnocentric and thinking the world revolves around American culture.  Simply because we chose to borrow a song from another does not mean that its writer will kowtow to ours.  "Wet Psy" has nothing to do with what you're fearing it is, incidentally, and everything to do with his sweaty armpits.

And that, friends, is my preemptive answer to your upcoming Psy questions.

Incidentally, if you're interested in looking at several hilarious-looking (I haven't watched any yet) parodies of this song, you can find a bunch here.

The Demon Possessed Man: Part 6 - Respect

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Jesus asked him, “What is your name?”

“Legion,” he replied, because many demons had gone into him. And they begged Jesus repeatedly not to order them to go into the Abyss. A large herd of pigs was feeding there on the hillside. The demons begged Jesus to let them go into the pigs, and he gave them permission. When the demons came out of the man, they went into the pigs, and the herd rushed down the steep bank into the lake and was drowned.

-Luke 8:30-33

This is a section of the Bible that is incredibly near and dear to my heart.  I find it so profound that it's hard for me to add my own thoughts to it.  It's one of those things that I think loses its luster if I try to break it down.  Nevertheless, I recognize that what I see as obvious in these verses may not be as obvious to other people, so I will do my best to explain what I read in it as eloquently as possible.

It all starts with four simple words: "What is your name?"  That's where personhood begins in our minds.  It's easy for us to ignore others, to devalue them... until we know their names.  Then everything is amplified.  (This isn't as strong if we don't already have a face to attach to the name, but I think the name is what gives it definition.)  Don't believe me?  Say these sentences out loud:

That guy makes me sick.
Joseph Kony makes me sick.

That man gives me hope.
Pope Francis gives me hope.

Of course, this exercise works better if you know who these men are, but let's just assume you do (and, if you don't, substitute in the names of people you do know).  Now, ask yourself, which sentence elicited a stronger response?  Names make a difference.  It becomes infinitely harder to dehumanize someone after you have a name for them.  (The reverse is true, too, a tactic employed by Ralph Ellison, the Nazi army, the Borg, and many others... Although the true unnamed protagonist is the only complete example I can give you.)

So what's so profound about that?  Well, the profundity is found in the speaker (Christ) and his addressee (a... demon).  By asking the demon for his name, Christ is essentially saying, "I don't want to de-value you."  [Insert the sound of my mind blowing here.]  We've all heard it said that we should love our enemies (Matthew 5:44), but I think even the most G-dly of us only took this imagery to that of Christ praying for those who were try to kill Him.  Seriously, who has ever pictured this to mean that Christ loves, and even prays for demons (possibly even Satan?!)?  And yet, there He is, showing respect and value for a demon.

"What is your name?"

But wait.  There's more.

My mind would be blown even if He left it there.  But, in true Jesus-fashion, He doesn't.  The demons turn around and beg Him to not throw them back in the Abyss.  They even say, "Please, please, please, please let us experience drowning rather than make us go back there!"(Side Note: How horrible must hell be for them to beg Christ to let them drown rather than return to it?)  Every time I read this, there's a part of me that expects Christ to reply, "Away from me, you vile creature!  Have you not brought this upon yourself?  Return to your prince of darkness."  I think there's ample Biblical evidence that would allow for eyelids to remain un-batted at this response.  But that's not what Christ says.  Christ turns everything about human justice on its head with His answer.

"...He gave them permission."

So let's review:

1. Christ meets a demon.
2. The demon recognizes Christ.
3. Christ doesn't assess the demon as a purely evil, lost cause.
4. Christ is polite to the demon.
5. The demon is polite back to Christ.
6. The demon begs for mercy.
7. Christ gives the demon the mercy it wanted.

All this with the henchman of the guy who tried to take over Christ's Kingdom, failed, convinced a third of the angels to abandon Christ with him, and continues to try to take over/get even by swaying Christ's beloved children to follow him.

And you think you can't be civil to the annoying person at the desk next to you?

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’  But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.  If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that?  And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?  Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." -Matthew 5:43-48

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What's our role?

I've talked here a lot about North Korea.  A lot.  In fact, I've talked so much about it, I wonder if you're starting to get sick of it.  But I hope that's not the case, because I'm going to continue to talk about it.

I've related the situation in North Korea to the Holocaust, and I'm not the only one saying that.  This is the most common comparison made when trying to explain what's happening; a simple Google search can show you that.  This is because, it's true.  The two situations are incredibly similar - gut-wrenchingly, sickeningly similar.

And yet, after 20 years the world still isn't taking a leading role in these atrocities.  The majority of the world is ignoring it.  In our age of technology, when we can see what's happening on the ground there from any computer, this is unacceptable.

But it occurs to me: Maybe the situation is so large that people are unsure of how to help.

I saw a TED Talk today, during which a North Korean refugee makes a suggestion for how we, as individuals can help.  I'd like to share it with you.  Please watch, think, and pray.

Fellow Wanderer

One of the joys/sadnesses of living in Korea as an expat is the constant flow of friends.  New friends are always coming, but that means that other friends are always leaving.  One such friend is the lovely Jessica of More Adventurous.  She technically was in the same arrival group as myself, but, as our group's arrivals were spaced from June to September, it's hard to feel a sense of unity among us all.  Nonetheless, I feel like I was able to bond with Jess, if nothing else, through the cross-city afternoon Facebook chats we had during our teaching downtime.  Recently Jess was asked to write a guest post on the Lost in Travels blog about her expat experience in exuberant, exhausting, English-learning Korea. (I felt the need for some alliteration there; don't worry about it.)  So, if you're aching for a new voice on the topic (or even if you're not and would just like to hear the perspective of one of my friends), I'd encourage you to click on over here and see what she has to say.

Here's an old, old picture of us from probably one of Jess' first weeks here.  She's the one on the front right.

Today's Holocaust

I remember the first time the idea of the Holocaust really hit home to me.  I was in elementary school.  I don't remember how the topic came up, to be honest, but I remember the question I asked: "Mom, how could people have let this happen?"

My mom, trying to be diplomatic, paused before giving her answer.  "Maybe they didn't know."

I thought about that.  I could understand how people in the United States wouldn't have known about the concentration camps, but something didn't sit right with me.  "But... What about the people who lived there?  There were people who lived in the area of the concentration camps.  People had to notice the other people in their towns being taken away."

I could tell my mom was uncomfortable, and of course she was.  There's no good answer to the question I was asking, much less one you want to admit to an elementary schooler.  "Well, some people did try to help," she said.

"Then how could this have happened?  How could people let this happen?"

Even then, I was asking the question that has plagued me my whole life.


As a child, I was able to excuse many people's ignorance of the occurrences of the Holocaust due to proximity.  In a pre-television world, ignorance was a standard of life, but today, in our world where we can watch videos that have been emailed to us from anywhere in the world on our watches, ignorance just doesn't have the ring of viability that it used to have.

So what if I told you that an estimated 200,000 people are currently being held in prison camps that are comprable to those run by the Nazi party?

Would you believe it?  Would you ignore it?

Sadly, most of the world is currently choosing to ignore that statement.  (Heck, a chunk of the world is still choosing to ignore the Holocaust.)  But I'm writing to you with a heavy heart, today, because I can no longer hope that this is just a rumor, a falsehood spread by propagandists, trying to sway our opinions.  Very early this morning, I was shown definitive proof that North Korea is operating the prison camps that refugees have claimed to escape (assuming, of course, that you don't consider refugee testimony to be definitive proof).

What you probably don't know is that right now, as you're reading this, a man named Joshua is carefully monitoring satellite feeds, focused on North Korea, and he's releasing all of his findings to the public by way of his blog, the most horrifically fascinating part of which is the section that gives detailed descriptions of and instructions on how to use Google Earth to see these prison camps.  Entranced, I spent the next two hours, pouring across the mountains of North Korea, searching for the camps he described.  Sure enough, they're there.

Joshua has a section devoted to each camp in North Korea, even spending countless hours scouring satellite feeds and Google Earth to find ones that had yet to be located but came up in refugees stories.  He reports all information he has to the Internet at large here.  I'd encourage you to take the 5 minutes it requires to download the Google Earth plugin for Google Maps, or to even download the program onto your computer.  Then, start finding them yourself, noting that some of the areas have changed slightly since he first uploaded his photos (he's since upgraded his technology which will not allow him to upload photos).  For example, Joshua features this photo of camp 18:

Whereas, today, I searched for it and found this:

As you can see from the washed out bridge and entry area, it looks like they've had some recent flooding, but they are clearly the same place.


Now, to the untrained eye, I can understand how this may look like any other North Korean city, but there's a tell: All North Korean prison camps are guarded by towers and lined by electric fences. So, the "gimme" that you're looking for is a seemingly dirt-road around the "city," interspersed with "houses," like here, at the northwestern border of camp 18:

This is real.  This is happening, and it has been happening for years.  Already, our children are going to ask us the same questions that I asked my mother.  I, for one, do not want to have to tell them that I stood by and did nothing.

This is a video of an address given by Adrian Hong, co-founder of NGO Liberty in North Korea (LiNK), to C-SPAN on the reality of what is happening in North Korea.  For the record, I understand that he and I ended up using a lot of similar terminology   Let me assure you, I watched this video after I wrote my blog post, so, any repeat of information is not evidence so much of plagiarism  so much as it evidence of truth.

The woes of a type-A over-achiever

Have you ever had that moment when you get stressed out because you don't feel stressed, but you feel like you should?

That's a stressful sentence in and of itself.  Let me break it down for you, because I really want you to understand what I'm saying (not because I'm doubting your intelligence).

Have you ever had that moment when you get stressed out

because you don't feel stressed, 

but you feel like you should?

The Chinese apparently have a word for this (not that that will help you very much, unless you can read Chinese, but I'm reading an article about it right now).  It's the one on the bottom left: 

I tried to find a typed version of it so you could copy-paste it if you wanted, but, as it doesn't really translate into English, it was hard to find an acceptable phrase to type into Google.

***EDIT - Thanks to my friend Eric, I can now give you a copy-pasteable version!: 纠结 ***


Well, all of that is to say, that's what I'm feeling right now.

It's not that I don't have things to do; they just don't seem as important as once they would have, and that's stressing me.  

It's silly, I know.

I'm going through a period of intense change in my life right now.  I, personally, think it's a change for the Good, but I'm rather close to the situation, so that may just be my opinion.  It's making it hard to know what to write about, though, but, as thoughts occur to me, I'll try to write them.

There's not much new happening in Korea for me anymore, either, so that's also cutting down on the blogging front.

I am, however, woefully behind on picture updates.  I'm going to try to get on that soon.  Keep an eye out, and, should you ever think of a topic you want me to have an opinion on, let me know, and then I'll have a blogging topic.  :)

Why G-d?

Why do I write "G-d"?

I found an article that explains it much more eloquently than I've been able to yet.

Read it here.

MOTh: Day 22-24

A Gift Grateful

1. I'm grateful for friends who are experiencing the same things I am and can become a family together for Thanksgiving.

3 Gifts Only in Christ

1. I'm thankful to be alive.  I know that if it wasn't for Christ, I'd be dead now.  Sometimes I forget, but mostly it shapes everything I do.
2. I'm thankful for my G-d.  I'm thankful that He loves me.  I'm thankful that he died for me.  I'm thankful that He uses me.  I'm thankful to be His.
3. I'm thankful for love.  I fully think that the only reason why we can love is because He empowers us to do so.  Maybe He empowers us without us knowing Him, but it's all Him.  It's something only He can do, and I'm grateful for the moments I can tap into that.

3 Gifts Humble

1. I'm thankful for (humble) pie.  I really like pie.  It's delicious, and I've had a lot of bonding moments over pie.
2. I'm thankful for the Humbles, who I met at Trevecca.  In reality, we barely know each other, but I often think about them.  Sometimes they pop up on my Skype, because Emily was willing to talk to me about living abroad before I moved to Korea.  I barely know them, but they have blessed me.
3. I'm thankful for bumble bees.  They're not really humble, but I can't say that word without thinking "bumble."  I'm rather nervous of bumble bees, but they allow for things like flowers.  And other bees make honey.  So, really, bees are pretty awesome.

More Politics: What Korea Wants from President Obama

Well, since I'm here, I may as well inform you on the atmosphere surrounding American politics in Korea.  In general, people assume that all Americans love President Obama.

Yeah.  I know.  Let that sink in.

As I've mentioned before, Koreans (North AND South) aren't really allowed to speak out against their government.  Such things get censored online, and, as a result of global short-term memories, the assumption is that everyone likes the current government.  Since this is what they're used to, the same assumption gets applied to Americans.

Trust me.  I've had to quickly de-contort my face many times for that one.

Basically, everyone I've talked to here (who's Korean) is a pretty big fan of Obama.  (Well... except potentially this girl.)  But then again, I apparently missed a group.

I titled this post "What Korea Wants from President Obama."  I probably should have clarified.  CNN somehow got a small group of North Korean defectors to speak out - without having their identities protected, no less - on what they wanted from this election, and what they want moving forward.  It's certainly not ground-breaking or incredibly unexpected, but it's still fascinating to watch.

Go ahead.  Respond.  What do you think is most important for President Obama to do this term?

I didn't write this.

Today, I read an update post from my dear, sweet Alex in Bulgaria.  I, of course, was thrilled, since an update blog post from Alex meant an update on life in Bulgaria.  What I saw, however, quenched my emotions a little, but, at the same time, made me incredibly grateful that G-d opened all the doors to put her where she is.  I called her today and asked if I could share it with you. I'm glad to say that she agreed.

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Blood, Tears, and Hope

I have special powers.
Or at least I think I do.
I have this insane ability to take on the feelings of another person.
Even a complete stranger.
... not exactly what one wished for as a kid.

Yesterday, I arrived at the school where I volunteer at about mid-afternoon..
I hadn't had my lunch yet. I was eating it on my walk there.
And the first body I see is this little shirtless boy.
I recognize him at once.
My violent little troublemaker.
My sweetheart
My baby.

Why isn't he wearing a shirt?

He was all alone. So of course, I was going to go over there and check up on him. After all, he's pretty much my son. And my baby looked cold.

He was seated on a faded wooden bench, bending down low, and working on something. As I got closer to him, I saw what he was working on.

In his right hand, he gripped a quarter-sized shard of glass.
And his "work" was a 2 inch bloody gash carved into his ankle.
My baby was cutting himself.

I'd say he's about 12. Maybe.
All alone.
And forcing his body to visibly show the pain he was feeling.
Most likely the humiliation he endures from a certain heinous teacher at his school.
My poor little guy.
I just stared and the blood, and then at his face.. carved out in anger. 
My lungs stopped accepting oxygen.
And my heart was trying to make up for it by pumping out my blood too fast for my body to handle.
And my eyes began to burn as I fought the tears from showing themselves in front of my boy.

And I sat down beside him, not even thinking about what the "right" thing was for me to do.
I knew I had to get him to give me that piece of glass, but I knew I couldn't force him.

Because I know that force will lead to retaliation, just as oppression leads to revolt. I couldn't take away his freedom of choice, but I also couldn't let him hurt-- not on his own like that.

My voice took on a single form. A quiet form. A gentle form. A form that presents itself when I'm about to cry. And I said, "эащо?" -- "why?"
And he furrowed his eyebrows in his anger.. in his hurt. And he dug harder. And the blood dripped slowly down his ankle. And the only thing he would say was, "така..." which basically means "because." And I tried to give him a piece of toilet paper to wipe up some of the blood. Of course.. he refused it.

And then he got up and began to walk away from me.
I followed him.
I had to get that glass from him.
and he hated that he couldn't lose me.
I didn't chase him. I never made him run. But I wasn't going to let him suffer alone.

Finally he stopped. He turned around and looked me straight in the eyes. He held up the piece of glass. And he threw it as hard as he could. And he held up his empty hands in surrender. A bell began to ring, telling the kids on the other side of the school that it was time to come back inside. I looked toward the sound of the ringing, and then back to where he was standing, but he wasn't there anymore. He was already heading back inside. I stood there, looking around frantically for the piece of glass in the grass. I began to allow the tears to flow down. I had to find it. I had to bury it deep in the dirt. I didn't care if the blood got on my hands. His hurt is my hurt. And I didn't want it to be found ever again. But I never got the chance-- not 2 minutes after being called inside, he was being sent outside by one of the teachers. I wiped my eyes on my sleeves and walked toward him. He saw me, and kept walking away. He crossed the basketball court and I stopped following him. I dropped my jacket, my bags and my lunch on the ground, followed by my body. He was sitting directly on the opposite side of the courts. And I looked down at my lunch and began to eat. My thought process was if he wants my company, at least I'll be around where he can find me.  

And he did.

He crossed the expansive cement and sat down beside me. And he showed me his most recent "work."
 And then the evidence of his other works.
They were many.

I asked him "why" again. And this time, his face was downcast. And he just shrugged his shoulders. 
And I decided that since I didn't have the vocabulary to discuss it, that my best bet was to distract him, and cheer him up. So I showed him my homework. He was impressed that I was learning Bulgarian.
And I began to practice with him. Mostly my numbers. We had a lot of fun with that. I purposely messed up to show him that even "grown ups" mess up on their school work. Then I took out my new phone and handed it to him to see. Kids love technology these days. He asked me, "музика?" --"music?" Sadly, I shook my head, "No." But! I had my I-pod. And God bless that little thing. I made his day by letting him listen to it. I showed him some songs I thought he might like. And you wouldn't believe how his sweet little face shines when he smiles. His eyes! Oh his eyes. So vivid, so piercing, so expressive. They soften when he smiles. My heart began to swell. I slowly convinced him to share my lunch with me. He was very hesitant. I know this boy doesn't eat except at school. But he was so worried he would be taking away my lunch. He kept saying, "No, you eat it!" So I ate some, and left out some crackers for him to eat if he wanted, which progressed to some lunch meat and cheese And something happened in this moment. We sort of bonded. And suddenly, all day long, he went out of his way to protect me. I mean ALL DAY LONG. When it came time for snack time, he tried to give me his snack. I wasn't hungry, so I smiled and said "no thank you." He insisted, so I took a tiny piece. But still... it meant so much to me that he wanted to share what little he had. I know what it's like to be hungry. And hunger does something dreadful to you. It makes you angry. It keeps you from thinking rationally. And when you have food, you become sort of.. greedy with it. 

But he wasn't greedy. He was generous. It wasn't just that he didn't want to be "indebted" to me, but it was more like we were taking care of each other. He was just more insistent with me. My little sweetheart. 

I used to regret my so called "special powers." 
I thought I was overly sensitive...
overemotional... 
I thought I was weak.

But I'm not weak.
If it weren't for this anomaly in me that allows me to feel what another person feels.. I mean to truly feel it,

none of this would have happened. The blood would still be flowing. And he would still have been hungry. And that hunger would have kept him angry. And deep down, my baby would still be hurting.


I'm not so naive as to believe that I took away his pain. I know I don't have that power.  
But, if he was distracted from his hurt, even for just a little bit, then maybe that was just enough time for a little bit of healing to take place.. just enough time for a tiny flicker of light to shine in the darkness... just enough time for something to rise up inside him.... just enough time for Hope, to make her appearance.

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You can read more from Alex here, and her missionary partner, Vera, here.