Busan: Fireworks & the Adventures of Sad Panda

Last weekend, a crew of four of us decided to bus to the second biggest city in Korea to see the beaches, hills, and eat some really good burritos. Yes, we did these things, but they're not very interesting to write about, so consider that part of the entry finished.

The more interesting parts of the voyage started on the bus ride there. A shade less than 4 hours, the placement of the rest stop within the first 45 minutes of the ride was a poor choice indeed. By two hours in and a few pitchers of Hite deep, full bladders started becoming a major issue for Kory and me. As we approached Busan and started hitting major traffic, ideas of urinating before our arrival began circulating among the group.

Option 1: out the tiny window in the back left of the bus using Mike for a blocker,
Option 2: Into an empty beer pitcher--wide mouth of course--using Mike as a blocker.

Despite Mike positioning himself many times between myself and the old ajuma seated a couple feet away, the uncomfortable stretch needed to execute the maneuver made it impossible to relieve myself, and so both Kory and I had to wait until we got there. Anticlimax I know, but perhaps some foreshadowing for later events.

Friday night out was debaucherous and tiring having already been drinking since 4, so at around 2am I returned to the hotel room to find Kory in his boxers watching Sound of Music. We then took a bath together in what seemed to be a large tub. It was much smaller than expected and there was lots of uncomfortable touching.

Saturday was a nice beach day, where we walked around hungover and did stupid foreigner things. See exhibits A & B:

Exhibit A

Exhibit B



After a really shitty Italian meal that caused Mike to throw a temper tantrum, we hit up a couple of bars on the beach and luckily saw some friends from Friday night. I say luckily not because we were glad to see them, but because they had a plan. Oddly enough, these two Korean Americans had spent their afternoon creating a fake survey to distribute to possible hotties at the bar. While this transparent ploy was easily spotted by most girls they tried it on--showcasing their desperation--it was still good entertainment for the rest of us.

The night continued on as normal until Mike came onto the dance floor holding about 12 roman candles. Immediately, the group ran out onto the beach and began a fireworks battle, running around on the sand shooting the roman candles in every direction. It was chaos. Now, I have been known to get caught up in the moment at times, and once again, serendipity trapped me with its sweet allure. I could only stand and watch as the pink flare from my roman candle shot directly into Ember's hair. The hilarity of the moment was in two things:

(1) There was at least a 3-second span from when the pink orb landed in her hair to when her head leapt forward in reaction (apparently she only realized at the smell of burning)

(2) Frozen in panic, my arm had not moved from its previous position, and 5 seconds later another blast nailed Ember straight in the forehead.

There were many apologies, but, in the end it was all worth it.

[shotgunning interlude]

THE ADVENTURES OF SAD PANDA

Meet sad panda, a caricature of a very drunk Michael Zimmerman. Sad panda is sad cause his stomach hurts.



When we arrived back to our hotel with sad panda, we noticed that none of the lights were working. We called the repairman to come up and fix it. Right as the old korean man walked into our room, sad panda had to sprint to the bathroom and growl into the sink. Whether it was the smell of sad panda's growl breath or the sight of an invasive species in the hotel room, he actually sprinted away into the hallway.

Next, the sad panda flopped into bed and passed out. About a half hour later, sad panda was feeling a bit dizzy, and gurgled a little slop onto his pillow. Kory ran over with a garbage pointing and yelling "trash can, trash can", whereupon the sad panda acknowledged this, then decided to go straight for the floor. Not to use another animal analogy, but he kind of looked like a barfing sea lion. For someone who was sleeping on some couch cushions less than 3 feet away, you would think i would have been more concerned about the ever growing panda juice creeping towards my bed.

i was too busy laughing. and besides, it was sad panda.

The next day we went to Beomeosa Temple.




Hidden up in the mountains, it was beautiful, especially with all the lanterns set up for Buddha's birthday. Sad panda lapped up some water from a sacred bucket. This was to be a grave mistake.

Some two hours later we all arrived to the bus terminal exhausted. Most of us had our juices and snack bags clutched in our hands, sad panda had his puke bag. Sure enough, moments after the bus pulled away from the station, a familiar grumble found its way to sad panda's stomach. Out came the bag, and out came the sacred water from Beomeosa Temple, along with bursts of laughter from his friends. A good time was had by most.


Sad Panda in Action

I Flew an Airplane

Drunk.

Well, kind of.

A few weeks back we booked some cheap flying lessons cause (a) i love flying, & (b) korea's liability laws are lacking. Due to boring and complicated scheduling issues, I was going to have to do the lessons Sunday morning in Daejon after meeting Joyce for a reunion in Daegu. Not wanting to cut my time with Joyce short in Daegu, I ended up heading to Daejon to fly the airplane on a bus right after partying all night. I was cold, tired, and hung-drunk. By the time Kory and Mike picked me up at the terminal, I was disoriented, out of cell phone battery AND minutes, and had needed to buy a newspaper to stand in for toilet paper in the worst bathroom I've ever seen. I hopped in the Ddongchim, and we were one step closer to flying. After following some schiesty directions, we arrived at the airstrip, to find as like to call her, the Silver Bullet. Then there was our Sky Captain from the World of Tomorrow, who actually turned out to be more like Bilbo Baggins from Britain. Good guy though.





Despite Bilbo's body odor and almost losing my cookies on my first flight up, everything went pretty smooth. Towards the end of the day, things were winding down when an amazing thing happened. A little Korean man hobbled his way out to the runway with a parachute, and what appeared to be a large fan. A few glorious moments later, the Fanman had manifested right in front of my eyes. Here he is motoring his way into the sunset.



Oh fanman. Is there anything you can't do?

Peep Jousting is Sweet

As those good Christians out there have already figured out, Easter was on Sunday. Of course, I almost forgot, until my wonderful Mema sent me a Easter package full of goodies. Included in this package--other than some chrontron bunny ears--were my one time nemeses: Marshmellow Peeps. Now, I know what some of you idiots are thinking out there; "I love Peeps!". Of course you do, you're idiots. Us civilized people find peeps disgusting both in texture and taste, and of no use. That is, until I found out their one purpose: Peep jousting.

The game is simple. Stick a toothpick in each peep and throw them in the microwave. As they circle each other with lances erect, the tension grows, as well as their fluffy bodies.





In theory, one peep is supposed to pierce the other's armor, deflating him to the size of a peanut. In our fight however, both peeps decided to drop their lances and boil in the warm light of the microwave. We called it a draw when the sugar started caramelizing.

Animals + Coffee = Weird

Well, it's finally happened. Korea has reached a new high with an idea that could make any struggling country rich in tourism, such as a young French Polynesia, or even France.

This idea, which will soon make these businessmen rich beyond their wildest dreams, was based on the premise that taking two things people like and putting them together is bound for success. People like animals, & people like coffee. Thus, Puppy Palace was born. Yes my friends, the small café is overridden with dogs and cats of all sizes, with bows, ribbons, make-up, and any other accessory you could imagine on an animal.

We shall start with the entryway. It is subtle, to say the least.



With mirrors on both sides as you attempt to ascend the staircase, disorientation is an immediate effect of Puppy Palace. There seem to be puppies and kittens in every direction, and you have suddenly been stricken with a strong case of vertigo.

Assuming you make it to the top of the staircase with the help of your loved ones, the opening of the door to Puppy Palace brings on the next flood of senses. First, the stench of a large number of animals in a small café: unpleasant, but expected. Next, the "the greeting of a thousand barks"--as it is so called at Puppy Palace (by me)--hits you square in the drum, followed by a mob of excited, jumping little creatures at your feet. I would say dogs & cats, but by the look of them, there seem to be many hybrids.

Once you've tossed the ugly ones aside, you can move on to your table, and grab the small cute ones and place them on your lap. An opportune time for pictures.





Now, don't get me wrong. It's pretty fun to go around and give them stupid names and make fun of their ridiculous make-up (see below):


Here's Mike with 360. She likes to jump in a circle and then look at you eagerly for approval.



This guy was Ed. He bore a striking resemblance to the retarded hyena from Lion King.


This is Pinkerton, my own favorite. He can't walk straight, but has cute pink cheeks.


This is Pebbles. Mike really took a liking to her.

However, as much fun as naming the animals is, it is a bit tough to drink your coffee when there are dogs, cats, and hair in every direction. While Puppy Palace is a thoughtful establishment, and gives you to-go mugs to minimize the problem, it turns out that having a cappucino with 5 dogs on your lap is not ideal. Thus, I don't think I will be returning, but if I do, I will save the coffee for another time.

Using the School Budget to Buy Things

Teachers don't get paid nearly enough, especially when the exchange rate drops to half of what it once was. So, in times of need, every responsible teacher will in turn use the school budget to bring a little more happiness into their lives.

In my case, the school has recently purchased three things. Two iguanas and one fog machine. While originally I named the iguanas Dr. Argyle and Freddy Four Fingers, the students did not fully realize the genius of the epithets, and instead have reverted to Igu & Ana. Philistines. Here is a picture of them on my couch. Better pictures to come.




Secondly, the school put together a haunted hallway type of thing for halloween, for which we suggested student council buy an expensive fog machine. Shortly after halloween, the fog machine disappeared. Shortly after that, the fog machine showed up in our apartment. Shortly after that, we had a fog party. It got ridiculous. I don't think sitting in a room full of fog for 6 hours while drinking heavily can possibly be good for your health.


Above: Prepping for the fog party in Studio B

Hanguk Sans

One of the best things that I've spent a lot of my weekends here doing is climbing the many mountains around the city and elsewhere. Hiking is always something that was generally reserved for the summers back home, but now that I have the free time and am able to get around on Maggie easily, I've been trying to hike at least once every couple of weekends. Mostly it has been local mountains like Jangseongsan or Mudeungsan, but over our thanksgiving break Mike and I were able to head up to Seoraksan, up by the DMZ in the Northeast part of the country. Although almost every trail was closed due to the snow, we played the part of confused hwaeguk saram (foreigners) and hopped the fences or banners. While we did get a 5 minute lecture by a korean park ranger, it was easily worth the nodding and insincere apologies.




After the extended berating, we followed a trail which led up to this little cave in the side of a rock face, which happened to be a really small buddhist temple. As we were quite tired from hiking 6+ hours without any breaks, it was nice to just sit there and hear the chanting of the monk. He was banging his sticks together really loudly. Had it been a little kid, I probably would have been annoyed, but somehow his get-up and the location gave it a nice, relaxing effect.


This is a view out of the cave.

The buddhism ran thick at Seoraksan. So much so that they built one the size of a small building at the base of the trails. It had a nice presence.





Although this post has been centered mostly around Seoraksan, I've really only been there once. Most of my time hiking has been around these parts:


Above: Looking up at Mudeungsan
Below: Looking down from Jangseongsan

A Trifecta of Korean Cultural Documentaries

As with any interaction with a foreign culture, there will inevitably be certain differences that seem to stick out more than the rest. I'm sure American customs such as ghost-riding the whip and 'getting jiggy wit it' are prime examples of differences that may fail to transcend the cultural boundaries of the west; confusing the eastern mind to try to figure out what in the society could possibly create such phenomena. Although my young and eager mind is wrestling with many such questions here in Gwangju, there are a couple in particular that I believe would make interesting documentaries, to explore the reasons and culture behind them.

1) The No-legged Homeless Man

No, I am not yet again poking fun at the handicapped. In fact, most of the beggars downtown do have legs, although they attempt to hide them in oversized, rubber trousers. Oddly enough, the trousers are not like normal rubber pants (if such a thing exist), instead they are about the thickness of a bike tire, which allows the beggar to leave you wondering whether they have actually lost their legs. In reality (I have checked), most of them, at least in Gwangju, still have their legs. Along with the rubber trousers, the beggars have little 4-wheeled scooters which they pull themselves along the ground with. If you're thinking what I was, the answer is yes; these are the same little wooden things most of us had in gym class to assist with crab soccer and try to use as an accident-prone skateboard.



Above is an example of the common Korean beggar. If you're thinking I'm culturally insensitive, think again, I didn't take the picture.

Usually, the men also have a matching scooter to hold an amplifier playing traditional Korean music. The weirdest thing about this behavior, is that ALL male Gwangju beggars have chosen this as their fail-safe method of collecting funds.

While I have inquired to my korean friends and students the impetus for such a phenomena, most of them either a) don't know, or b) believe it's war related. No one has yet provided a reason why it is so widespread.

2) The Ddongchim

Literally "poop" - "sword", the ddongchim is a common phenomenon with a vibrant counter-culture surrounding it. In its very basic essence, it is an act of defiance and humor. However, it is not restricted to the Korean race. Anyone can do it, even you:

[Ddongchim procedure]:
Take your hands and clench them together so that your fingers are interlocking. Take your thumbs and place them together, as well as your pointer fingers. In western culture this would signify a gun, handy for imitating someone like James Bond. Here in Korea, this is your "chim" (sword).

Next, find an unsuspecting friend, co-worker, or acquaintance (if you're feeling particularly daring), who is busy doing something at a table, bar, or (a regional favorite) the copy machine. With a smirk on your face, stick your "chim" (sword) into their "ddong" (poop or hole if you will). They will probably scream, or at least let out some sound signaling their surprise. This is your time to exit swiftly, elbowing your buddies while giggling and snickering.

Be proud my friend, you have just committed your first ddongchim.

While you may think--as i did--that a student performing such an act on a teacher would be a severe sign of disrespect. You would be wrong. Instead, it is seen as a playful act that while not encouraged by parents, is certainly not discouraged. A hearty laugh may be let out of the Korean parents' belly, soon followed by a insincere reprimand. The truth is, most Koreans (in Gwangju) have been dongchimed at one point in their lives. As put by a fellow co-worker, long-time Gwangju resident, the experience is "not gentle" by any stretch of the means. Although many of my elementary school teachers (foreigners) have had this glorious experience--on multiple occasions--i still await this day with anticipation.



With a phenomenon as popular as the ddongchim, it is no wonder that the wave has inspired cartoon characters and superheroes alike. One of my favorites, is the ever-present Captain Ddongchim. He can be seen in the picture above with his Captain Crunch-esque hat. I'm not sure about his sidekick, but I'm sure he's got some tricks up his sleeve as well.

3) Fan Death

In some ways, this has already been too publicized to make a documentary out of, but, seeing as it lets me include the word trifecta in my title, I will include it anyway. Ask any expat in Korea about Fan Death, and you will immediately see a glimmer in their eye as they prepare to give you a 5 minute first-person encounter of the popularity of this myth.

Fan death, for those of you who don't know, is the common Korean belief that leaving anyone in a closed room with an electric fan on will cause them to die by sunrise. This belief is so prevalent, that often the second or third (sometimes first question) asked about someone's death is whether or not a fan was involved. Oddly enough, although the phenomena is clearly spread throughout the entire country, there are different methods and explanations for the homicidal tendency of this appliance:

1) Most common in the area of Gwangju is that the fan creates a cooling vortex that chills the body beyond point of return and causes rapid hypothermia to set in.

2) A more spiritual interpretation is that this same vortex is strong enough to pull your soul out of your body, which, of course, causes death immediately.

3) The fan uses up all the oxygen in the room, causing fatal levels carbon dioxide. Unfortunately, electric motors do not use oxygen, and thus this doesn't really make any sense.

4) My favorite is one I saw on wikipedia; that the fan actually chops up all the oxygen particles, leaving none left for respiration. This explanation violates both mass conservation as well as well-known properties of molecules and gases.

So yes, fan death is an odd superstition. You might be wondering how deeply Koreans believe in it. For example, what happens when you ask a smart and worldly Korean about fan death? My roommate Mike has equated it to the backpedaling that comes with asking a devout christian to reconcile their strict interpretation of the bible with common scientific beliefs. It becomes difficult as they directly contradict each other in many ways. I don't suggest doing so. It becomes quite awkward.

One interesting explanation i have heard for the existence of fan death is a conspiracy theory surrounding the extremely high suicide rate of korean youth. Extremely image-conscious and pressured to perform well in sometimes 12-13 hours of school a day, young koreans often take their own life, for which fan death is a prime scapegoat. I'm not saying I subscribe to the issue, but at least it provides a reasonable explanation for this ridiculous myth.