Countdown to Canada

It has begun... the final countdown. As of today, Friday February 9th, we have precisely three weeks left in Korea (we get home on March 3), divided into the following: two and a half weeks of procrastination, followed by a frantic three days of packing, cleaning, and madly trying to fit 15 months of accumulated junk into Air Canada's baggage allowance. (I feel sufficiently more Korean in that I'm seriously preparing to bribe the employees at the check-in counter to bump us up to first class - though it's certainly not considered a bribe here, but simply a "gift" of Korean goodwill).

Ahh, sweet, sweet procrastination... "I'm sorry, Nathan/Dad/Mom/insert name here. We had the perfect idea for your gift, but you know how fast a year and a half passes... We hope you really enjoy these "Welcome to Calgary" postcards and novelty rodeo fridge magnets."

With three weeks left, we have started to reflect on all the things we have done and have yet to do. Joe's Emo and I have started to get along quite well, and have reached some sort of base level of communication centred in her kitchen, where she shows me the intricacies of kimchi, kimchi mandu (Korean dumplings), and Joe's new favorite snack (I don't know the name, but all you need are sunflower and pumpkin seeds, walnuts, soy sauce, sesame oil, and garlic, roasting innocently in a pan until the unexpected addition of the main ingredient, a large fistful of tiny dried fish, bones and eyes and all). In return, I unveil to her the mysteries of spaghetti and tomato sauce. If only it had been the women of Babel working together in a kitchen instead of the men working on some tower, the world would be a far more understanding and delicious place to be. How does one express the wonderment on her and her childrens faces as I unlocked the magic of garlic cheese bread, or the hidden depths of basil and thyme? (Though I think these will remain two strange spices that exist in her cupboard, much like the strangely untouched jar of curry powder your hippie parents bought to make that one special dish for some vegan potluck back in '73).

So we're packing up, finishing the few final things left to see and do here, and then it'll be home for a week before Matt and I leap across the Atlantic for two weeks to see a bit of Poland and Italy. (Matt is in it for the art, and I'm all about the food and drink, unabashedly in love with any country that will serve you up an espresso if you order a "regular coffee"!)

See you soon!!

Dog Food

I am amazed at the, shall we say, creativity, with which human beings the world over approach the universal need for food.

Imagine that you're feeling a little hungry, and in need of a quick snack before work. What do you do? Well, head down to the Lotte Mart of course, where they keep live squid swimming around in a large aquarium. State your preference, and your friendly squid attendant will deftly scoop out the chosen one into a net and onto the cutting board. Before you can say "don't forget the spicy paste," the employee has brought out the gleaming cleaver and hacked the recently-deceased (is 'deceasing' a word?) squid into dozens of unhappily writhing, bite-sized pieces, and deposited it onto a paper plate with disposable chopsticks and packages of spicy paste for your dining pleasure. I'm told you have to chew fast, or the tentacles will stick to your teeth.

I have never considered myself intolerant towards other cultures and their penchant for certain foods that simply strike me and my North American sensibilities as revolting. I simply choose not to eat certain foods, but I don't think it's at all my place to say what is or is not right when it comes to taste.(After all, we Canadians can't seem to cook vegetables to save our lives, and any condiment other than ketchup or mustard is considered a little too exotic for our mild and unabrasive temperament. And don't even get me started on our nonsensical aversion to tofu, or curry, or spices other than dried basil and oregano (GOD FORBID we even think of using fresh-ground spices or, think of it, FRESH HERBS once and a while!!!), or the fact that we need a heart-clogging pound of flesh thrice daily in order to feel nourished). Ok, ok, so maybe I feel a little more justified in passing judgement on my own culture than one which is so very foreign and that I will never truly understand.

That said, there is one aspect of Korean cuisine which does bother me. It's not the squid, nor the popular street snack ppeondaggi (stewed silkworm pupae that smells 100 times more potent than freshly roasted grasshoppers stuck to a car's radiator on a steamy Saskatchewan summer day), but something that hits a little closer to home.

We all have a soft spot in our hearts for abandoned and abused critters, and while we don't all support the SPCA with donations, the majority of people I know at least think the organization is a good idea. Koreans, while they adore their little rat-sized fashion accessory dogs to the point of lunacy (these once-upon a time canines commonly sport doggie jewellry and dyed fur - yes, Joe talks about the "purple puppies" he sees), have a spot not in their hearts but in their stomachs for another, less fortunate breed of dog (that just happens to taste good in a soup called "boshintang")!

Now, remember what I said earlier about not passing judgement? Hindus think hamburgers are atrocious, and us Jews avoid (among other things) the "insects of the sea", those crawling, scavenging creatures that feed on carcasses and other garbage adorning the ocean floor. Well, who am I to think that eating dog meat is wrong? Is it any different? Not really - it's just a matter of taste, so to speak. The thing that, well, really gets my goat is the manner in which the dog is killed. The dog is tied down and beaten to death, in the belief that it tenderizes the meat, making it tastier and a more effective libido-booster for men....(shudder)....

So, how do you take the leftovers home? Why, in a doggie bag, of course!

Stomach Linings are for Sissies

It seems that everyone and their grandmother here is suffering from stomach cancer. Korea has the highest rates of stomach cancer in the world (if statistics, particularly the ones we've read, are to be considered true), and it's no real surprise when the men drink gallons of soju. (Soju is an alcoholic beverage much like vodka but uses rice instead of potatoes - at least in its original form. But the common, cheap stuff you buy in tetra packs, bottles or multi-litre sized jugs from the convenience stores (what everybody drinks) is in fact made from watered-down ethyl alcohol - silly North Americans... we were always told that stuff'll make you blind...wait, maybe it does, as that would explain their driving habits). Aside from the soju, which the women don't drink nearly as much of as the men (they use it as a cleaning product), you have the gochuchang, or the ubiquitous red pepper paste (or, as Matt calls it, the very fuel that all of Korea runs on). It is piled into pretty much everything they eat - it's a key ingredient in kimchi (the national food), soups, stews, barbecue dishes and is a product other than soju which can be purchased in pails of 20 litres or more.

Our personal favorite dish that uses gochuchang can only be purchased from the restaurant in the main floor of our apartment block. We don't actually know the name of the place, because... well, we've never really bothered to learn it (the sign is in "fancy-lookin'" Hangeul (Korean), so it is simply known to us as the "Spicy Tofu place"(where's the echo button? asks Matt).

The story of the spicy tofu began on New Year's Eve. We prepared an elaborate dinner, including pickled, spicy sesame leaves, ramyen (mmm...instant noodles), kimpap (Korean "sushi" - don't EVER call it that, though!), kimchi (of course), rice, and the legendary "Tofu.....fu....fu...fu".

When we ordered the food, the cook and the waitress both tried to discourage us, saying it was much to spicy for foreigners, but we managed to convince them we could handle it. We had no idea what we were getting into....

Matt accused me of trying to kill him with the spiciest food he'd ever eaten, and I think we both had several heart attacks after the first three bites (the crazy thing about spicy tofu, though, is that you can't stop eating it once you've started). So, with eyeballs sweating, and barely able to breathe, we made it through the first encounter. Matt prayed it would be our last.

But once that tasty MSG/BBQ spicyness bites, you can never go back!!! The craving for Spicy Tofu can get so intense, that some nights, when they would run out of tofu, I would run down to the tiny, family-run restaurant with a brilliant smile and a block of tofu from home in hand, and the owner/cook would spy the tofu, clap her hands and laugh. But she'd cook our tofu for us, in her inimitable spicy way, AND give us a discount! (The language of "Spicy Tofu" relies not on words).

Now, we have become trusted customers. If they have no tofu when we order our beloved dish, the cook will unhesitatingly send out her daughter (also the waitress) into the monsoon rains to buy a block of tofu from a shop down the street.

It's been nearly seven months since that near-death experience on New Year's Eve, and Spicy Tofu has quickly nestled its way into our hearts and through our stomach linings.

We love you Spicy Tofu!!

Something fishy...

Strolling through a new neighborhood today, we stumbled upon a small market. Fresh fish for dinner? Pigs head, anyone? How about some eels? You can buy them live and skin them at home! Delicious.

Teaching English in Korea 101

Well my first week of teaching has come to a close and as excited as I am to be finished a small voice in my head tells me there are still 51 to go...Oy Veh.

So what is teaching English to Korean children ranging from 8 to 13 like?
What I've realized first off is that to stay sane one has to first and foremost throw out the whole idea of teaching....it implies learning. I'm not saying I don't try to teach, rather the whole system that we're working in is designed to be ineffective - much like Korea.
Seriously, I'm growing to believe that the only way this country "runs" is to be constantly creating new work by never doing the job right the first time. Perhaps the best example is in the construction methods used to build the apartment buildings that cover the landscape. The buildings are designed to be built fast with a life of about 5 years. Korea is not like Japan, that has to build with the awareness that an earthquake will likely destroy their work every few years. Korea has no such problem: perhaps they just have Japan envy.

Probably the second most important thing that I've learned is to never under any circumstances tell a Korean that they have "Japan envy". (Editor's note - at this point, Hanna kicks Matt off the computer). Well, you know there was that whole colonialism thing between 1910 and 1945, when Japan ruled Korea with an iron fist. That, and the numerous invasions from previous centuries when countless temples and relics were destroyed by Japanese invaders. As a result, the Koreans are none too fond of their neighbours to the east. On most world maps, the body of water separating the two countries is called the "Sea of Japan", but here you would never, ever say such a thing. It is simply the East Sea. Now, lying somewhere in this "East Sea" is the small uninhabited island of Dokdo, just a few rocks really. However, these rocks are hotly contested between the two countries, with both claiming sovereignty. Dokdo inspires such incredible, passionate patriotism in the children here, it's quite remarkable. At the very mention of the word, some of my more boisterous students jump up on their chairs and burst into a proud Korean anthem which claims Dokdo as theirs. In a couple classes, we got on the topic of reunification with North Korea, which led to a discussion of the atomic bomb, and inevitably to why Japan ceased its occupation of the Korean peninsula in 1945. "Nuke them again! Nuke them again!" was their shouted response. In another class, I asked them to describe their dream weekend. One 10 year old student's response: Friday - travel to Japan. Saturday - kill the Japanese emperor and dispose of his body. Sunday - return to Korea and think of an alibi.
And the kimpap - "Korean sushi" - which is, according to some Koreans I've spoken with, "just like sushi, but much better." (Thanks to my beautiful rice steamer, I've learned to make kimpap that is almost as good as the diner down the street, minus the spam and MSG).

Always she goes on about the rice steamer, but ask her to clean it and find out the truth (like a little kid with a dog, whose parents feed and and walk it). So you get the point right? Koreans are not fond of the Japanese.

Back to first week of teaching ( if I'm allowed).
As I mentioned earlier the hardest thing for me was to move beyond the idea of actually teaching the students and grasp the far more important issue. Make the parents happy. We teach at an English hogwan which put simply is a tutoring academy (there are also science, math, art, music, Korean, phys. ed, and at least a couple other kinds of hogwans). More complexly it is yet another example of the "keeping up with the Kims", a diabolical scheme which drains approximately seven billion dollars annually from the pockets of well intentioned parents (which is more than the Korean government spends on the education system in a year), while at the same time working to undermine that same underfunded public education system. Sound complicated? Think of it this way: if your neighbors send their children to three hogwans then how could send your children to any less... maybe you should send them to four...and the trend continues. The whole while the kids are learning in advance in the hogwans what they learn in the public schools, thus making public education irrelevant.
So here we are, the native English speakers brought to Korea not to teach the children English, but for the hogwan to keep up with other hogwans that also have native English speakers.
Basically I tell them to do their homework - after all, if they don't have homework, the parents aren't getting their money's worth.

My baby

At long last, my dream has come true... No, it was nothing conventional like getting married, having a child, or working really hard to get us here to Korea. All those are but token achievements when compared with the aquisition of my beautiful new kitchen appliance - my indispensable rice steamer, the "Kitchen Flower." Oh, and she is gorgeous. Pink, white, and adorned with flowers, I saw her sitting, alone on the lonely shelf of the Wal-Mart appliance department. Passed over by other shoppers looking for the newest models (and yes, they sell digital rice steamers here), we felt an instant connection to each other. We are very happy together.

Lotte Mart

Once a day, sometimes more often, we enter the familiar aisles of the Lotte Mart grocery/department store across the street. Our faces, I feel, have become customary fixures of the place, although we still have no idea how to ask where the garbage bags are. I customarily spend a few minutes each trip browsing the crowded aisles of the supermarket in search of the elusive bags, knowing all the while it was a futile endeavor to begin with. The garbage bags here are neatly divided according to what city you live in. If you are a resident of Anyang, you are required to place your refuse in the bags with the Anyang City symbol. We live in Uiwang, and I have yet to discover the location of the garbage bags for my particular district (Ah, well - early in the mornings, I surreptitiously deposit our garbage in the large pile across from our apartment building in -gasp - ordinary plastic bags from Lotte Mart!).

Lotte Mart is an adventure. Some evenings and weekends, the place is so full, it is absolutely useless to even attempt pushing a shopping cart through the aisles. And the shoppers are ruthless when it comes to getting where they want to go - they push through you as if you were invisible, often even pushing the cart along sideways in order to maximize their space (quite an experience for a citizen of a country who is accustomed to apologizing when someone steps on their toes). I've noticed that the steering of the shopping carts in some ways resembles their road rules (more on that in an upcoming entry).

The free samples are one of the best parts of the adventure. Dozens upon dozens of makeshift tables offer samples of everything from fresh-pressed tofu to instant coffee, from marinated beef to seaweed laver, fried spam, kimchi, Korean mushroom pancakes, and a table that I've learned to avoid - the one that houses the unidentifiable bowls of suspicious, slippery, spicy-looking substances which I discovered (one day when I was feeling particularly adventurous) contain types of raw sea urchins and raw shellfish - my stomach has yet to build up a tolerance to this food, and I don't think it's ever likely to happen. As you pass by the tables in the back, the men holler at you, hawking their wares. My favorite is the fish man, who sounds like a Korean version of Tom Waits. Lotte Mart is a very modern supermarket, but it's really neat to see how these remnants of a traditional market are still very much alive and strong.

Joe loves the Lotte Mart, and asks to go there every day ("Mah-ta, please" - "mah-ta" is the Korean pronunciation for "mart"). There is a kids' playroom where we take him a few times a week to play with other kids. Although they usually seem frightened of the foreign baby, he still manages to make a few friends each visit.