Real Men Don't Ask for Directions

South Korea, 1997.

I wandered around Mokpo in the early hours of dawn and morning by myself without any real plans. It seemed like a nice seaside port city but I wanted to boat around some of the hundreds of islands that dot the southern coastline. Lonely Planet told me I could get a ferry around from Mokpo to Wando and that the scenery was magnificent. So I made my way to the ferry terminal.
As far as I could tell, the signage listed no scenic ferry rides to Wando, and not wanting to ask anyone, I gave it up. Instead I grabbed a city bus to the Mokpo inter-city bus station, from there a bus took me to Kwangju, another terminal and another bus finally took me to Wando. In the pouring rain I found a cheap Inn for the night. It was just a small square room with a pad and a blanket and a TV. The potty was community and had no hot water. But the owner was a sweet old lady who checked on me several times over the course of the one night I spent there.

The next day when the rain stopped, I took to walking around Wando. One can cover the whole town end-to-end in short order so I snapped a couple pictures and headed to the ferry terminal and bought one ticket for Jejudo.

Fishies drying on a rusted rack:
Boats.
Boarding the Hanil Car Ferry #1 is not done in what one might call "an orderly fashion"; everyone pushing, squawking, smoking, charging up the ramp with kids, grandparents and luggage, crates, sacks, Soju cases, boxes tied with shiny pink straps, fishing poles. I was in no hurry to get on board. Apparently everyone else knew what I would only find out later--there is only so much seating space, and all of it on the floor.

Scanned Slides of the Day

South Korea in 1987. Day trip to ...? Anyone?

Look ma, foreigners! On the hike up.

The suspension bridge. I crossed it (not without trembling). At the top. That's the suspension bridge down there.

Anyone? If memory serves, this is 대둔산.

Scan of the Day

Seoul to Mokpo 1997

An Adventure Begins...

Seoul, South Korea. 1997.

When our two other roommates returned from the states all full of their wedded bliss, my substitute teaching responsibilities were done and I had no other plans. And I certainly wasn't ready to head back home. I decided to take off on my own and see some more of the rabbit-shaped peninsula. I wasn't sure if it was a good idea to go to Pusan, but I did want to make it to Jeju Island.

I sketched out a rough itinerary in my mind to head straight south and eventually catch a ferry down to Jeju-do. Nothing concrete, just looking to see some countryside and be by myself for a while. I packed a small backpack with some clothes, my electric razor, and my Lonely Planet. Before leaving I borrowed JT's hair clippers and gave the dome a fresh buzz (my first in over a month in country because the 학원 boss man wanted me to have as much hair as possible), and I went online to get the train schedule from 서울 to 목포. I found I could get a 10:16 pm train from 영등포 station so I could sleep a bit and save the cost of lodging for one night.

The evening of my departure JT, 지수, and I went to Cyber Zone Coffee Shop near 신정네거리 to kill a few hours. The coffee was instant and the place was smoky, but the clientele was unmatched for its freshness. I knew JT was in heaven but still desperate to experience the forbidden Korean female fruits. He lit up a yummy Marlboro (he had taken up smoking again--most often when drinking, or trying to fit in, or trying to impress) and 지수 fired one up too for good measure.

The conversation turned to Pusan (지수's hometown) and 지수 gave me the phone number of her best friend. I was to call her if and when I got to Pusan, but she warned me that her friend was a very traditional, conservative girl where guys were concerned and that I shouldn't get any ideas. I told her that I didn't have any ideas, but that I thought all Korean girls were traditional and conservative in that regard. She told me I was wrong and that she had even heard of girls who sold their sex for money on a street near Youngdungpo station. She said she had never been there because she was scared. JT suggested that we go see it on the way to dropping me off for my train.

Around the corner from Youngdungpo station, we took a left down a narrow alley. Past a locksmiths and a restaurant the road widened a bit. On both sides of the street were glass-fronted shops with scantily-clad girls smoking cigarettes under an eerie red and yellow fluorescence. The overactive butterflies in my stomach became increasingly agitated as we drove slowly by, eye-shopping the spectacle as these women banged on the inside of the glass with cigarette lighters. The noise surrounded my head driving me lower in the back seat until I was just barely peeking out like some shy acne-ridden teen gazing at his first nudie magazine. I knew they weren't inviting us in for just a smoke.

These were the red-light women that Eight-Shot Dave had told me so much about. (One of whom blessed him with the phrase: "bring it here.") At the end of the street, 지수 flipped a U-turn for another look, slowed in front of one open window and asked "How much?" in Korean. It was like preparing to barter as one would at NamDaeMoon market. The young lady inside just waved her off.

I slept only fitfully, balled up on a benchseat of the nearly empty night train to Mokpo, but woke up sweating as the train pulled in at 4:30 a.m. I detrained into the chill pitchblack, grabbed an instant mini-cup of coffee from the nearest machine, pushed my way through the cabbies who were soliciting riders to god-knows where, and made for town.

Scanned Slide of the Day

Pusan, South Korea in 1987.

Keeping it cool on a hot day.

Coffee and Cigarettes

Seoul, South Korea 1997

Enough about babysitting and calling it teaching. After all, it was just an enabler for love and adventure. Let's get back to the reason for me even being in Korea in 1997: to find Korean Love for JT.

So far we had been faked by the mysterious 보연 who gave us a phony Beep Beep number. But we had managed to get the digits of the fair Young-Sook of Skylark Family Restaurant (hereafter known only as "Skylark"). However, the most promising prospect turned out to be one of JT's students. She was a college grad, working woman he taught once a week. She had a lawyer boyfriend, but JT had a crush. She was called 지수, but her real name was 용운. She changed it when she moved to Seoul from her hometown out in the boonies. Her given name, as you can see, was way too masculine and it had been a constant source of torment in her life.

I told JT he should ask her to come meet us after class one night and we could practice English and enjoy some BBQ. That worked and we had quite a nice time. Smart, cute, employed, car owner, smoker, late 20's...the major obstacle being the boyfriend. We hung out several times and JT was chomping at the bit. We came up with a plan to make some magic. We decided to meet for BBQ again, prime the pump with a little Soju, and then employ a little trick we had heard about. On the walk from our regular BBQ place to our apartment, there was a harmless-looking little 여관. The plan was to walk in that direction after dinner and Soju and then without saying anything just walk her into the motel. I would continue on home. It was supposed to work if she had any interest and she had any 눈치.

On the way home we turned down the alley to the motel and JT took a left with 지수 towards the motel. She realized where they were headed just as she got close to the entrance, and like a petulant child plopped right down on the steps of the motel. That was it. It was clear she was not interested in going inside with him. I watched from around the corner long enough to see it wasn't going to work and I went home. Moments later JT arrived. He was bummed, but we both had a good laugh about it. She wasn't angry or upset. She just kept saying she had a boyfriend. She even said she was conflicted because she liked JT.

Aw shucks. Foiled again.

We remained friends with 지수, even having more adventures together. Our hangout place with her moved from BBQ and Soju to Coffee and cigarettes, and no love ever occurred between her and JT. As far as I know.

Scanned Slide of the Day

1987. Seoul seen from the walk up to Namsan Tower. I ignored the signs that said "No Photography."

The Substitute Part 3

Seoul, South Korea. 1997

And now for some high points from my few short weeks of substitute English "teaching."

In no particular order:

1. Some of them dang rugrats was cute.

2. Getting paid cash in envelopes every hour was nice.

3. One "healthy" young student gave me his lucky pig. His name is written on the bottom, but only the surname remains. Of course, I still have it:

4. One student told me "Winter envy Spring" when the weather didn't want to turn warm. I liked that a lot. I wrote a silly poem about it where I put one word on each page of a groovy mini Korean notebook. Without quoting the whole lame thing, let me just give you a few words from it: busybodies, donnybrooking, snuff. I dare anyone to pen a decent poem with those words in it. Double dare even.

5. Monday nights. Every Monday night after classes, JT and I would meet at McDonald's near Shinjeong Naegeori. It truly felt like it was our McDonald's.

Photo of the Day

Scanned from a 20+ year-old slide back when 씨름 was still popular.

Anyone know who this big 'ol boy is?

The Substitute Part 2

1997 in Seoul, South Korea

There's not much I can say about what it's like to try to teach English to little kids that hasn't already been blogged to death. Of course the dang rug rats was cute and all. We had some laughs and some brawls. Some loved me and some hated me. So instead of scrawling out all the details of each day and each class, I'll list out some of the high points and some of the low points.

First the low:

-Riding that motorcycle around in the cold. Worse was riding it around in the rain.

-I had one stop with a brother and a sister. Ages 5 and 3. They had no English at all. They had no interest in learning it. They had no interest in me. They roused rabble and messed around the whole time. Their mom would pop into the room (their bedroom) from time to time and yell at them. She would also tell me to yell at them and discipline them into studying. Riiiiiight.

-One day on the way to one of the classes that was quite far out into the boonies from Mokdong, I was riding the motorcycle in the motorcycle lane (you know, basically in the gutter next to the curb). As I came around a corner, a huge truck was making the same turn and came wide enough so I had to slam my brakes to keep from getting rolled under the enormous front wheel. I nearly kissed it goodbye that day.

-In class at the institute one day. The kids were teasing me on account of the baldness up top. We teased back and forth while trying to learn some words to describe each other. Things degenerated when I crossed the line and told one student (strongest English speaker in the class) he needed to work on his English. He lost it. He started bawling miserably in front of the whole class. I tried saying I was only joking, but he grabbed my cheek with his little hand and squeezed and scratched as hard as he could while screaming at me. My face hurt but I felt bad the kid had taken it so hard. He calmed down some and class ended. We walked out and there was the hagwon owner. He saw the kid's tears, he saw my red scratched face, what could I say? I put my arm around the kid and told the teacher in my slowest clearest English that this kid "is the smartest in my class." Oh boy.

-I had a private class with 4 high school freshmen. On the last day of my 3 week stint with them, they pestered the whole hour to play games. I understand why they didn't want to go through another boring lesson in the book and it likely had very little to do with it being my last day. I finally gave in and broke out some card game. Mom came in and was not pleased. She got angry with me in front of the kids and told me they were high school kids and didn't need to play games. She said she wasn't paying me to play games with them. Her English was hurtfully good right then...

Scanned Slide of the Day

Pusan Harbor 1987
돌아와요.

The Substitute

February 1997 in Seoul, South Korea.

I officially started substituting for JT's brother's classes after he and his betrothed left for the States. The hagwon provided a motorcycle (like a Honda Trail 90) that I rode around to different hagwons and apartments to teach. My typical routine would be:

Put on a helmet, put my hands into the huge glove/mitten things that covered the handles and kept my hands from freezing off, ride the cycle to the hagwon, enter up the back stairs, "teach" a class, leave.

When I left I would ride to an apartment where 3-5 kids would be waiting. I would work through a textbook for 50 mins, then mom would bring in a tray of treats and/or juice. We would eat and maybe play a game for 10 minutes. Then I would leave. On the way out mom would hand me an envelope of cash. Usually 25-40K Won per hour.

Off to the next apartment. Repeat.

Initially my days were not packed with classes because the hagwon owner didn't trust me yet. But it didn't take long 'til positive feedback flowed in from the moms. I made a point of greeting them in Korean and doing a bit of small talk at each visit. After each session I would praise their kids' English skills. Pretty soon I was gold.

Once a week I would ride the #5 Purple line over an hour all the way from Omokkyo to Jamsil? where I met a young lady for 2 hours of free-talking. We drank Cokes and chatted. She was a grad student and quite smart. She was studying North Korean politics and the concept of Juche. This was right at the time Hwang Jang-yeop defected. He was one of the main "architects" of Juche and so we spent hours talking about this news and about Juche. She was quite thrilled to be allowed to study North Korean politics at such an exciting time. Definitely one of the highlights of my substitute stint. She paid me 100,000 won for the 2 hours. Maybe I should have paid her? Or at least paid for the Cokes?

Scanned Slide of the Day

In the tradition of ROK Drop and others, I post herewith my first (but not last) Photo of the Day: 1987. I know I took this picture cuz I scanned it from my slides, but I have no clue where I took it. 경북 somewhere maybe? Anyone?

Cherry Blossom Tribute Part 2

Hometown USA, Hot August 2009

Camping and a raging bout of stomach flu have forced this temporary departure from the events of 1997 in Korea. Secretly I am also s t r u g g l i n g with writing about "teaching" English to little kids. So any tangent at this point really...

Have a look back at May of this year when I posted my Cherry Blossom Tribute. Notice if you will the barenakedness of my 무궁화. How sad it was back then. Here is an update.

The indomitabilityness of the Korean Spirit in blossom form: Some said it wouldn't survive. I beg to differ.

Weather today: Sunny. 98F (36.6C).

Skylark

Seoul, South Korea. February 1997

The next night, JT, his brother, and I went and saw Jerry Maguire. On the way home we noticed that Skylark Family Restaurant was having their Grand Opening. “Wanna go in and get a bite? Let’s see if their steaks are any good. We’ll probably be their first foreign customers,” JT proposed.
“OK,” we agreed.

Skylark keeps a full staff of servers, bussers, managers, and cookers working hard until 2 a.m. Most of them have day jobs too but they all need the extra money so help is not hard to find. No sooner had we taken our seats but a smiling server in a pink dress with white apron dropped off three menus, not before honoring us with a deep bow of salutation: “Hello. How are you?” Five different girls came up to our table one at a time, bowed and said, “Excuse me. Can I take your order please?” We hadn’t even had a chance to look at the menu. Girl number six was worth waiting for. Shy, shortish, with a traditionally beautiful egg-shaped face, her nametag read "Young-Sook."
“Excuse me. May I take your order please?”
I said, “Will you be my friend?”
“OK.”
Secretly I was only acting in my role as Love Finder for JT.

I opened my Sharp electronic address book and planner and slid it over to her. She looked at it, a shy and confused grin started to creep onto her face but she quickly covered it with her hand. My planner prompted her for her name and then phone number. “Young-Sook is a popular name,” I said. In my mind I was thinking back to my first Young-Sook 10 years earlier.
“Yes it is,” she said. "Is beep-beep OK?"
"Sure, just don't fake me," I said.
She responded with a blank stare. You know the look.
“May I take your order please?” Skylark Young-Sook asked after an awkward silence.
“Give me a beefsteak with steamed rice on the side, friend.” I said it with a smile.

Beep Beep

Seoul, South Korea 1997

A heavyset Edmontonian girl at the party convinced us to share a taxi with her down to the Hong-Ik area to go dancing. We went to one of the newer of several Western-style nightclubs with a full bar and without the exorbitant table charge for beer and fruit common at other Seoul area drinking establishments. Inside, the hip-hop thumped and the part Korean, part American crowd smoked, drank, and danced. We didn't last long there before we both decided it was time to head home.

We took the Green line to the bus exchange and the bus over the bridge back to the Green line (thus circumventing the Green Line portion that collapsed into the river), all the way to the Purple transfer. The last Purple had already gone so we decided to cross over to the market area where an old woman was cooking up fried egg sandwiches. Crossing at the same time was a beautiful young Korean girl whom I caught staring at JT. She didn't flinch, didn’t giggle and cover, didn’t even stop staring. She confidently scrutinized my woman-starved friend. She stopped just across the street and started to hail a taxi. At this late hour, the taxis are all full but drivers try to pick up solo riders to pocket the extra fare. However, finding a taxi that isn't full of people that also happens to be going where you want to go is a difficult prospect.

JT and I ordered one egg sandwich each as I told him how that girl had stared at him so. The old egg sandwich woman lightly buttered both pieces of bread, toasted them next to the frying eggs, and finished the process by sprinkling liberal amounts of sugar on the eggs and coating the bread with ketchup. I ordered mine without sugar or ketchup, and, at JT's bidding, went over to spark up some conversation with the girl. I asked if she was trying to catch a taxi to her boyfriend's house. She said she didn't have a boyfriend. I pointed at JT and told her my friend thought she was cute. She looked at him and waved. He came over with two egg sandwiches and stood next to her with that cheesy tooth-filled grin of his. Through me he asked her name. "김 보연," she said. JT turned to me and told me to get her beep-beep. Young hip Koreans all have pagers because they get can in trouble when their friends of the opposite sex call them at home. With a pager they can take calls whenever and return the calls without fear of parental interference. I asked for her beep-beep and without a word she tore a page out of her planner and wrote her name followed by her pager number. JT grabbed it and looked, it was a 015 number--one of two prefixes that all pagers use. He smiled at her and said "친구." A taxi pulled up and she yelled "영등포" into the window. "Ride," the driver said. Off she went.

Next day, JT still smiling at the prospect of getting carnal, beep-beeped 보연. After dialing it twice without getting the prompt to enter a message or number, he dialed again and handed the phone to me, "Tell me what this says." A woman's voice, monotonous like a recorded operator, told me in Korean that this number had been disconnected or was no longer in service. I broke the bad news to JT. "Faked," he said sadly and took the scrap of paper with her name and number on it and placed it on his desk under the glass top with other souvenirs of his world travels.

Snookered

We followed James up the Omokkyo Station exit number One which opened up in front of a 24-hour convenience store. "Stop here for some beers," James advised. "The party's just down that sidestreet. Go in that door there by that full-sized cardboard Korean Air Flight Attendant. Up to the third floor above that billiard hall and that's it, walk right in."

Inside the 24-hour store JT and I couldn't decide between Cass, Hite, or OB Lager (the Budweiser of Korea). "Remember that time you went to Oregon and brought back that box of Weinhards for my birthday because we couldn't get it where we lived yet?" JT asked.
"Sure do."
"Let's get OB Lager," he suggested. "There's this commercial on TV for OB Lager with this funny guy. I don't know what he says or anything, but it's funny and the kids love it."
"OK," I agreed.

At the door to the party was a huge pile of shoes so big the door wouldn't shut all the way. We fought our way through it and went in. The apartment was mostly filled with Canadians with only a few Koreans. James was on the couch next to a tall Korean beauty. Both were laughing and drinking. I got close enough to hear James trying out his unstrong Korean on her. JT came up, "I'm better looking than that guy and he's got Korean Love. See he speaks Korean. That's all it takes, I know it."
"He's a geek. Maybe Korean babes dig geeks," I offered. "I know geeks, you're no geek. Besides I just heard him ask her old she was by using 연세 for age not 나이. 연세 is only for older people. His Korean is not so strong as it seems."
"She laughed," JT pointed out.
"True." She had laughed, but I wasn't sure if it was because James's blunder was cute, or because she was being polite, or if she was just drunk. Could have been a combo of all three.

Four hours and two more trips to the convenience store later, the OB Lagers gave JT the courage he needed to spark up some conversation with one of the three Korean girls at the party. JT’s cheeks always get a little flushed when he’s drinking, and he’s quite proud of the fact that he’s a lightweight. His eyelids sag and his grin shows the top row of his cosmetic teeth. I’ve seen that look a thousand times and it always makes me laugh. He thinks it’s irresistible. He really needs to get that level of self-confidence back full time. Too bad the girl he is hitting on is living in this very apartment with the Canadian guy hosting the party, who by the way, is sitting with a scowl on the other side of her from JT.

Being a Love Finder is going to be a full-time job...

The Bald and the "Strong"

Mr. K and his wife, the owners of the Mokdong Branch of the "Strong" English Institute, were anxious to come over and meet me--their new substitute teacher. I was confident and ready. I had taught English before at a 학원 in 부산 so I knew the ropes. I also taught English composition for two years at university in the States, so compared to JT and his brother I was way overqualified for this three-week stint.

Mr. K and his wife came in. Mr. K didn't say anything to me, just stared briefly, walked into JT's bedroom and shut the door behind him. A minute later he called JT in and closed the door again. JT's brother looked at me and shrugged. Mr. Kim's wife--that would be Mrs. H--smiled, giggled, and sat down at the kitchen table. She silently fidgeted with her bangs, which had been sprayed to stand almost straight up like some wall of fear.

Five minutes of hushed conversation passed in the bedroom. Mr. Kim came out, extended his hand for an unfirm shake, curtly introduced himself and left. His wife dutifully followed.

"What was that"? I asked half afraid of the answer.
"Oh, nothing really," JT said.
"Then why did he snub me like that?"
"Well, he's got this idea of what an English teacher should look like, he's really into image. I told him not to worry and go out there and be polite."
"Didn't work," I said. "If he doesn't like me he can find someone else if he thinks he can." It was a semi-bluff and I knew I didn't mean it as soon as I said it.
"It's going to be OK," JT assured me. "He was just surprised that you were a little balding up top there. That's all."
"I can't help it. You know it's not like he's flawless or something. He's short. I don't like short people. You know what else? His English sucks. I hate Korean institute owners whose English sucks. And he can help that, it's called studying. It's not like if I studied harder I'd grow more hair or something. Know what I'm saying? The punk."
"Mellow out man, a little touchy about the dome or what?"
"No, I just, how about a chance first? Ya know? I mean I can't help my genetic physicalities now can I?"

That night, a tall, fully bald-headed Australian fellow named James met us at the Omokkyo Station underpass to show us the way to the foreigner-only party.
"James, are you teaching English here in Seoul"? I asked.
"Yes," he said.
"But you're bald..."
"I know," he said with a look on his face that spoke volumes.

The Love Finder

JT shared a small two bedroom basement with his brother and his brother's fiancee. The apartment, provided by the 학원, had a small kitchen and dining area, a bathroom that functioned as toilet, sink, shower, and laundry room in one. I was to sleep on the couch in JT's room until his brother left to join his fiancee in the States. I instantly knew I would be on the floor on account of the couch was too short and too narrow, but I knew I could survive the floor for a few days.

When JT's brother came home from teaching class that night, we decided to celebrate my arrival by treating me to some Soju and delicious, spicy, marinated chicken with noodles. We walked to their favorite place, took off our shoes, and sat on the floor around a hot bed of glowing coals. As soon as the Soju was poured, JT said: "White, you have got to find me some Korean Love. These women are so beautiful, but I can't seem to get anywhere with them."

"Have you got your eye on anyone?" I asked.
"A couple different babes, but I thought you could help me meet some new blood too."
"Sure. But are you ready to put on that old blue collar, punch in on the time clock and do work? Unless times have changed drastically in the last ten years, you shouldn't have much trouble if you put in the time.

I was not entirely comfortable with the situation or his request, but JT seemed so sincere and desperate at the same time. At that point I must've faded out of the conversation because I was vaguely aware that I was no longer speaking out loud but was lost in a haze of fond reminiscence and jetlag.

JT picked up on my absent stare and changed the subject. "Anyway, there's a foreigner party this weekend over by Omok Bridge. Only foreigners are invited, but mostly it's just Canadians. I want to go check it out. And tomorrow night I want to go see Jerry Maguire. You feel up to it?"
"OK. If my jetlag is gone."

Lucky Number 5

Outside the customs checkpoint at Kimpo Airport, eager Koreans craned their necks to peer anxiously through the electric sliding doors that opened like a theatre curtain whenever someone came out. JT was lurking in the background and came forward only when he saw the solitary light-skinned traveler emerge.

"Well, if it isn't my old roommate I've got to go all the way to Korea just to see." I greeted him with a hug.
"You want to take a taxi, bus, subway, what?" JT asked.
"All roads lead to Seoul, baby."
"Subway it is."

The number five line, the purple line, was one of the newest in Seoul at the time. It runs from out west of the airport clear across the huge sprawl of Seoul. The purple line is still clean and doesn't yet smell like garlic, piss, 소주, or puke. It also runs right through the neighborhood where JT lives and works. It's almost never crowded, it’s perfectly safe, it costs less than 50 cents for a one way ticket, it's a great way to commute.

"Our stop is Omokkyo. An easy way to remember it is, this is line five, get off at Omokkyo, and take exit number five. Five is the magic number. OK?"

"OK." I didn't feel like telling JT that Omokkyo also means "Five Tree Bridge," another magic five, but I was certain I could find my way around.

It was evening in 목동when we came up on to the street from Omokkyo Station exit number five. Immediately there on the left was Skylark, an American style family restaurant still under construction. Another half block down on the left, near a video store no larger than a minivan, was a basement bar called "Green." JT was intrigued by Green because he had followed a beautiful girl down there once and was denied entrance at the door by a man who said nothing, just shook his head. In the smoky dark of Green, JT had seen TV screens with what looked like naked Korean girls on them so I promised we'd go on a fact-finding tour after I got settled.

Go

Seoul, South Korea

January 1997

As I waited for my overstuffed backpack to show up on the luggage carousel of Seoul's Kimpo International Airport (this was well before Incheon International was even a glimmer in some Korean slogan-maker’s eye), I scoped out the Customs lines where Koreans returning to their home country were getting the third degree and a complete search. I'm a little anal, and a lot protective of my personal stuffs, so I am always anxious about some scowling customs 아저씨 rifling my backpack. When my pack finally came through I put it on and, acting like I was overly exhausted, walked to the initial checkpoint, surrendered my passport, and tried to look as tired as possible. The angry-looking customs official slowly scrutinized me up and down one time, more tired than I perhaps, and simply said, "가." As if I were a child, or a dog, or a drunk. Just that one curtly uttered syllable.

"Go."

Given the circumstances of my previous sudden departure from this place, I was surprised and more than a little bit relieved. I walked out, but my ears and brain were still buzzing from what was left unsaid beneath that brief imperative. It said, "I know why you're here, you. I know you brought your poison culture to bespoil our traditions, you're probably smuggling drugs, you'll work illegally selling us your mother tongue, try to take our women away with you, give us AIDS. You are 100% bad."

가.

Courtesy Stockings Make the Man

Hometown USA 1997

A travel agent with a smoker's raspy voice booked me on Singapore Airlines from San Francisco to Seoul, non-stop. I had never heard anything about that airline before. But she assured me it was a "really nice carrier," and since it was comparably the cheapest ticket--just over $600 round trip--the decision wasn't a difficult one. We chose a departure date that would land me in the Land of the Morning Calm with a few days to de-jetlag myself before I had to start teaching. Since I also had to lock in my return date, I tentatively reserved a seat on a return flight some 87 days after that. I figured I could easily move my return up if I wanted. Oddly, the thought of doing the reverse never occurred to me.

I called JT, told him when to expect me. As for packing, all I needed was my new passport (my original one had expired and I hadn’t left the USA in 10 years since), my tourist Visa, a sleeping bag, clothes, toiletries, and my cliché but trusty Lonely Planet Guide to Korea. I crammed it all in my North Face backpack and was ready to go. Before I left, however, I heard from several friends in the same social circle as JT and me. I was charged with a serious calling.

"When you're over there, find out the scoop on JT's sexual preference. You know, I mean, see if he's gay or what. I mean, my wife wants to know, you know."

Yes I know. Your wife is still pissed JT told everybody that he could have slept with her while she was engaged to you.

Bearing that unheavy burden, I left for the airport. It didn't take but five minutes on the plane to realize that my travel agent had not lied about the quality of Singapore Airlines. The plane itself was huge; 11 seats across each 3-section row, but not 1/3 of the seats were occupied. I chose a 5-seat middle row near the back all for myself, took off my shoes and put on the purple courtesy socks provided. I figured that the courtesy socks were purple to match the interior color motif of the plane, and not due to some Donny Osmond influence, at least I hoped.

No sooner had I gotten comfy than a friendly attendant was offering me my first glass of free wine and we hadn't even begun to taxi yet. On the seat back in front of me--in front of everyone--was a personal-sized TV screen. My own headphones, my own remote control, my own viewing options. Every two hours a new movie, Seinfeld re-runs, countless music choices, Nintendo Golf and car racing, updated flight info including speed, location, ETA, weather and time at destination, all in three languages. In that plush and distracting environment, with all the free-flowing liquor, the 12 1/2 hour flight went pretty fast and soon I was touching down at Seoul's Kimpo International once again.

The Tank Ain't Empty

Hometown USA 1997

JT told me I would need a tourist Visa valid for five years, good for 90 days and renewable for the same length every time I entered the country. This kind of renewable Visa is a great way for illegal English teachers like JT and his brother to get around Korea's immigration laws. To get a legitimate work Visa you have to sign a contract with a Korean employer for at least one year. That gives the employer so much power over you that it is hard to make the kind of money illegals make, it's also hard to come and go as you please, and you have to pay taxes too.

One downside to this tourist Visa scam is really an upside for many teachers who work in Korea under the table: every three months illegals have to make a "Visa Jump" where you have to leave Korea and re-enter to get your 90 days renewed. "Visa Jumping" can be expensive, but it enables the restless traveler/teacher to go see a different country--if only briefly--every 90 days or so. It's a great excuse to get away to Hong Kong, Thailand, Guam, wherever. And Japan is only a three-hour boat ride or a short flight from some Korean ports.

At least that’s how JT sold it to me.

Personally, I really only intended to stay in Korea for the three weeks, or so, that it would take to substitute teach JT's brother's classes, but I also wanted a few free days to kick around the peninsula. Perhaps drop in on a few old haunts down in Pusan. How could I go wrong; I could scratch my itch to get out of town, see an old buddy in an exotic locale, make some straight cash, and return to Korea for the first time in 10 years.

"Oh, by the way," he asks, "you do still speak some Korean don't you?"
"Well I haven't really tried in years, but I'm sure there's enough still in the tank."
"Good. 'Cuz Korean women are the most beautiful women in the world but I can't communicate with them."

Oh, that's where I come in.

A Master of Arts Takes a Phone Call

By December of 1996 I finished my grad school course work, and I wrote and defended my Thesis. Pretty easy really. Straight A grades (except for a B in a course called "Women Writers"). Basically only took me two drafts to get the Thesis written. The only real drag about the program was the grading of freshman composition papers. Agony.

Not surprisingly, I found myself in no great rush to get a job. I was also realistic (cynical?) enough to know I couldn't make a PhD in literature work. Sure I was still living in my parents' basement and working part-time selling sporting goods, but I had very little money and even less motivation. Out of the clear blue, JT called me. Long time no hear. The last time I saw my old college drinking buddy was right after he had written a goodbye note for his wife, endorsed over his last paycheck to her, and left her--for good.

He came to visit me then, a little sad but a lot free. He told me he was heading out on the road. "OTR" he called it. I doubt he coined the term, but he loved saying it so I let him. Since then, friends had caught random tidbits of rumors that JT had "turned gay," he was living in Brazil, Mexico, the Philippines. I had heard nothing first-hand until now. Turns out JT is in Seoul, Korea, of all places, teaching English with his little brother. Life is great, the cash is good, but his brother is leaving for L.A. for three weeks to get married and he needs a substitute to teach his classes for him while he is gone. That's where I come in. No rent, low cost-of-living, plenty of income. Sounded good to me…

The End of One Detour, Start of Another

Hometown USA 1992

One of the main problems with working in the film industry was the complete absence of a social life outside of the production. In short, it afforded my girlfriend way too much time to be unfaithful to me. Long story short, it ain't nice to be cuckolded at the age of 26 and dumped over the phone after 2 years.

By the end of 1991 I was mentally done with the production lifestyle but I had no other plans. I needed a change of career path, of social circle, and environment. When the TV series I was working on was cancelled right before Christmas, I did what everyone else in the industry does and filed to collect my unemployment benefit. I was entitled to the maximum benefit (US $960/month) for a period of four months. Instead of aggressively seeking gainful employment, I intended to collect the whole amount unless presented with an opportunity I couldn't refuse.

By the Spring of 1992, no such opportunity had appeared and President Clinton signed an unemployment extension for another four months. I took advantage of that to the fullest. I spent hours and hours at the pool. I was getting tan and meeting girls. The Summer of 1992 still ranks in the top 5 all time summers of mine halcyon.

Otherwise, I spent a lot of time in my own head trying to figure out what to do next. I read a lot and thought a lot. I highly recommend such a period. In fact, if I wasn't afraid (by afraid I mean I have a home mortgage, a rental property, a car payment, a wife, and two young kids), I would love to do it again right now.

I took the GRE, nailed it, applied to grad schools, and got accepted to a Master of Arts program to study literature. I also got an assistantship to teach English Comp 101 and 102 along with a nice stipend and an office (really a closet) on campus. Come Autumn 1992, I was full on into a new chapter of my life. It was not necessarily a chapter that would lead me on a road to immediate financial independence and wealth, but it certainly was a timely escape from the limbo of the early 1990's.

The Detour Part 3

Hometown USA 1990-1992

At the risk of being called a "name dropper," I herewith list some of the actors I met during the course of my 3-year detour. Some you have heard of for sure, some you might need to look up in IMDB. Anyway, in no particular order:

Vanessa Williams
Robert Urich (not one of my faves)
Chris Noth
Dalton James
Aaron Eckhardt
Gail O'Grady (one of my faves)
Elizabeth Berkeley
Brooke Shields
Joanna Kerns
John Trudell
Wilford Brimley
Kathleen Lloyd
Ed Begley Jr
Richard Farnsworth
Dennis Franz
Pam Dawber
Bruce Altman
Gregory Harrison
Michael Apted (Director)
Marlee Shelton ("oiling and lotioning")
Louise Fletcher
Saul Rubinek
Lloyd Bridges
Beau Bridges
Gerald McRaney

You get the picture.

The Detour Part 2

Hometown USA 1990-1992

I have tons of stories from my days working in film; not all of them great. But I'm trying to fast forward to my next Korea chapter so I'll save those stories for another time and place. Well, maybe one story right now wouldn't hurt.

I was 2nd Prop Assistant (working on set) on a TV Movie of the Week. There were four of us in the Prop department. We kept a very clear line of distinction between us and the Art Department; they were responsible for set design and decoration and we were responsible for anything an actor touched. They generally worked one or two weeks ahead of us so we rarely saw each other. They were a zany bunch of kids who had worked on many shoots together. I had worked with most of them on several occasions.

They had a totem that they each carried around with them. They claimed it was their source of strength. It looked like a Bishop from Chess with a smiley face on the front. They tried to secretly place a large one somewhere on each set they decorated. Nobody watching the show would ever notice it, but it gave them a huge thrill to see their source of power on TV.

One day at the Production office, I found myself in the Art Department office while they were all away. Next to their computer was a large one of their totems. I couldn't resist messing with them. I tied a string with a mini noose around its neck and tacked the other end of the string to the ceiling so it hung down at eye level. I stepped back to admire my work. But that wasn't enough. I grabbed an art pencil and wrote on the front of the totem: "I like to f*ck." I left the defiled fellow hanging from the ceiling.

The Detour

Hometown USA 1990-1992

Short version: I worked in the film industry for three years.

Long version: From my humble beginnings making Korean props for a failed movie, I moved on to set construction for local commercials and small productions. I got a "break" from a local Prop Master I met who hired me as the Prop Buyer for a TV series (it ain't what you know, it's who you know). The Buyer role was pretty fun, and it paid a flat $150/day. I was getting paid to drive around and spend someone else's money on stuff we needed for the show. Shooting schedules on a TV series are tight so I had license to throw money at something if I thought we really needed it.

Example: We were to shoot a scene that called for homing pigeons to fly off and the actor had to hold some sort of tracking device. I made a black box with flashing red LEDs from parts I bought at Radio Shack. I also ended up hiring a Falconer for the day, including his equipment and expertise. He didn't want to do it, but I kept offering him more money until he finally agreed. The scene looked realistic, and we even put the Falconer in the shot for a brief moment. Everybody was happy.

That series got cancelled after a mere 8 episodes. From there I moved on to other productions where I worked in the Prop or Art Departments. I was 2nd Assistant Props on a 12 episode TV series, same position on a TV Movie of the Week, Assistant Set Decorator on a couple Movies of the Week, 1st Assistant Props on a low budget feature, and myriad roles on countless other commercials and productions. All those jobs paid between $150 and $225 per day. The most money I made per day was as the Greensman on a Chevy Truck commercial.

"Greensman" is a bit of an ironic title for what I did on that shoot because it was the most un-Green thing I've ever done. Al Gore is turning over in grave as we speak. The genius director wanted me to cover up 200 yards of barbed wire fence by attaching plants to it. I rented a 27-foot U-Haul truck and drove around the nearby countryside with a chainsaw just mowing down any kind of vegetation I could get my hands on. It took two days to gather and attach all the greenery I needed, one day to shoot the scene, and one day to break it down and haul it to the landfill. $1,675 dollars later and I needed a serious nap.

The film industry certainly isn't all glamour and glitz. Work days were usually 13-16 hours long with only an 8-hour turnaround guaranteed before they could require me back at work. Add it up and it equals zero social life. There was no time to spend any money so I was saving fairly well even though I was pretty much scholarshipping my mean girlfriend through college (maybe more on her later).

Thanks to Bill Clinton, I spent the majority of 1993 collecting my unemployment benefit and getting a rockin' tan. I firmly believe everyone needs an extended poolside period to get their head right. It worked for me...

Overthrowing the Dictator

Hometown USA 1990

I had a short phone call with a guy who was working on a film about the current state of democracy in South Korea. They were planning for a scene of a massive demonstration; ubiquitous in Korea at the time. They needed to make it look real and planned to outfit hundreds of extras (background actors) with banners and headbands with slogans. The pay was ridiculously high for the amount of effort I wouldn't have to put in. I agreed to do it.

One morning a few days later I found a huge pile of supplies on my porch. There was plenty of banner paper, markers, paint, and hundreds of plain white bandannas. I sat around for a few hours writing things like "독재 타도" on banners and bandannas rolled into headbands. I had a few other slogans I used too but I don't remember them anymore.

When I was done I left the whole pile out on the porch and the guy picked them up in the morning. I placed a makeshift invoice in with the "props" I made and eventually got a check for $450. Decent. Now that is putting your degree to good use eh?

Even though I hadn't met the guy who contracted me to phony up some Korean "demo" materials, we did have a mutual friend. That friend later hooked me up to do some more work for the guy. We then became friends. He worked in the film industry, generally working in props or the Art Department on whatever shoot he could get hired onto. My friend told him I needed to make some money and the next thing I knew I was pounding a hammer on the set of a mattress commercial starring Vanna White as the spokesperson. And that one small mistake started me on a miserable and dark 3 year career detour...

Re-directed

Hometown USA 1990

I was flat broke when I graduated. I had rent and some small bills to pay. I had a smallish student loan to pay back. And, thanks to an over-optimistic view of my immediate earning potential, I had a car payment on a brand new 1990 Honda. I wracked my brain but I could not come up with a way to make all those payments while I was off in Korea on a scholarshipped scholarly trip. In the end, I called my teacher and told him I was not going to be able to go with him to Korea that summer. Bummer.

I had two job interviews in Dallas that summer. Brian was living in Dallas at the time, but we hadn't spoken since his wedding. My older brother, whom I did not get along very well with, was living in Dallas with his first wife (whom I couldn't stand). I wasn't very keen on moving to Dallas.

The first interview was with a customer support company that needed a Korean speaker. I nailed the interview and the woman had all but offered me a spot on her husband's softball team (not a euphemism) when I went in and met the supervisor. He was a young-ish Chinese-American guy. He started the meeting by saying "안녕하십니까"? I responded appropriately of course, but he just stared blankly at me. After an awkward moment he asked me to say something in Korean. I realized he didn't know any Korean other than that most basic greeting so I thought for a second about what to say.

I've always thought that anybody who speaks a second language, or who has studied one, would never ask someone to just "say something." What's the point? I could say "I love silk worm larvae" in Korean and tell the guy I said he was "very handsome" and he would never know the difference. Anyway, I said something in Korean and of course he asked me what I said. Not the most productive interview technique I've ever seen, but apparently it worked to weed me out. I expected an offer and one never came. A few days later, I called and asked for an update. He told me he hired a Korean friend.

I bombed at the other interview in Dallas too. It was the same kind of job at Sprint. As my younger brother loves to say: "hindsight is 50/50." Secretly I am glad I never moved to Dallas.

Back at home I was getting desperate for some income. A friend of a friend approached me with a most random request. This guy was working in the prop department on a film about the state of democracy in South Korea. I don't think the film ever even made it to video, but it had enough of a budget to ask me for some favors...

Getting My Learn On

USA 1988-90

I progressed through the Asian Studies/Korean program without much issue, and without much challenge. I got one grade below "A" and that was in Korean History. My research paper really sucked and that brought my grade down. I was supposed to take a position on whether or not US Forces should remain in Korea and I waffled back and forth through the paper without ever really taking a side. Grade for the course: "B." That was the only chink in my GPA armour until the spring term of 1990.

In the spring of 1990 I met with the graduation counselor and all was set for me to march into commencement with my double major. There was, however, the problem of Anthropology 400-something. It was a cultural anthropology class focusing on Asia. One day per week we met in a large auditorium for lecture-style learning generally, and twice a week we broke out into smaller groups by country of interest. I was in the Korean breakout with 8 or 9 others. It was a fun group, a diverse group, and we really got into the guts of Korea. I liked it a lot. I had a solid rapport with the teacher and was tops in the Korean section.

The problem was that we had to deliver a 20-page Ethnography by the end of the term. That involved many long conversations with Koreans focusing on some aspect of culture we wanted to study. I could not bring myself to do it. Just couldn't even start it. It was not going to happen.

I came up with the genius workaround to see if the department chairman would let me count another course instead of Anthropology and still graduate on time with the double major. He looked at me like I was from outer space that day. It was not a fun meeting. He went so far as to tell me the graduation counselor had miscounted (double-counted) my credits and I was not even close to the double major I was already counting the chickens of. I could still get the Korean degree but could only get the Asian Studies minor. While that was not the news I had hoped for, it certainly made my decision much easier on what to do about the dreaded Ethnography. Correct, I bagged it entirely. If I had simply done the Ethnography, even a shitty job of one, I would have that double major today.

I continued to attend the Korea breakout twice per week, but took no tests and didn't lift a finger on the Ethnography. The instructor, thinking he was doing me a favor, offered to give me and Incomplete on it so I could finish it over the summer, but I quickly disabused him of any such notion.

I graduated in the spring of 1990 with no real plans and only a couple of job interviews where I could use my Korean. There was an opportunity that summer that intrigued me. The instructor of the Korean Anthropology breakout was leading a group to Korea for 90 days to conduct cultural anthropology research. The whole thing was paid for (funded by some Korean conglomerate heir or something) but he could only take 3 students. I applied. I applied even though I had basically failed out of his course because I refused to do an ethnography. I applied to get paid to go to Korea and do an ethnography even though I refused to do one for free in college.

Of course I was accepted and we started making plans for the trip...

Getting Settled Back Home

July 2009: I just returned from a week in New York City. While there I tried to drown my liver, managed to deprive myself of sleep, and spent far too much time talking to the 19-year old daughter of a famous tennis player. Call me slow on the uptake, but I knew it was "too much time" when she told me she named one of her breasts "Chloe" and the other "Coco." Chloe was mostly on display most of the night. Coco is a bit more shy it would seem...

Other than all that, I feel fresh enough to now resume the my Korea narrative.

1988: I eventually settled in to the ol' college routine. I decided to pursue a degree in International Relations. In addition to the required political science classes and whatnot else, the program required 2 years of a foreign language (student's choice). Not surprisingly I jumped on the Korean.

I was well ahead of the other non-Korean students and it showed in the test results. In one Korean class we studied "sound changes" for a while. Before we started on the topic, the teacher gave an assessment-like test to gauge the students' understanding of sound changes. We were to read several pages of Korean text, circle any sound changes and write in the proper pronunciation (example: if the text read "밥을 먹는데", you would circle it and write "밥을 멍는데" because that is how it's pronounced). I got the highest score in the class (even better than the one Korean girl). Sound changes are hard for most non-Koreans it seems, but I had them down. I only missed 4 out of 100 on the assessment test. (I missed "그렇다." I should have circled it and written "그러타.") See?

We then spent a week learning all the sound changes and took the test again. I got 100%. The Korean girl got 98%. The next highest score was in the 70's.

The point is, I quickly bailed on International Relations and switched to Asian Studies and Korean.

Some Nuggets

Before we leave 1987 altogether, here are a few treasured nuggets from my journal at the time.

April 24, 1987
I didn't go to the hagwon this morning. I went to Seo-myeon. I got my shoes fixed and I bought a clock and some glasses* and the guy did a lousy job on the lenses. Went to the hagwon and met Mr. H. He is a tardy geek** and he was wasted but still we went to some tables and got more wasted. Two guys fought and got bloody and broke a bottle and glass went flying. Then we left and went to another table and Mr. Shin got tanked. Tomorrow I have to go shopping with him. I might buy a yo.

*My eyesight is fine. It was fine then, and it's fine now (knock on wood).
**My apologies to anyone offended by the insensitivity of that remark.

April 29, 1987
Yesterday to class in the morning and the night. Today none. I went to Lucky Shopping and bought some stuff. I am fairly bored and lonely. My classes start the day after tomorrow. Today was the Miss Pusan pageant but I didn't go.

May 4, 1987
Saturday it rained all day and so I went out late to NamPoDong. It is cool there but I felt stupid alone. Met a girl called Miss Joe. She is cool so we went to see Crocodile Dundee together and she bought dinner. I felt comfortable and we talked.

May 5, 1987
Buddha's B-day and Kid's Day. Miss Joe came and we stayed home all day. She is really rad.

The Rationalization

When Brian joined me in Korea in August of 1987, he had recently met a young lady back home. They were in love. She turned out to be the one because they got married in 1988 and are still together. I was the best man at the wedding. We haven't spoken since. Apparently his lady didn't take a cotton to me and pretty much told him to freeze me out. Whatever. But that is not the point of this...

Given his new-found love interest back home, Brian never really sank his teeth into life in the Korea. He lasted only 2.5 months and was pretty much planning his departure from the moment he arrived. He was constantly in my ear about how I needed to get outta there, head back home, how I was meant to be in the States; constantly in my ear. Sure that wore on me and those seeds he planted were taking root, but other factors were at play.

My contract with Mr. Shin stated that any outside jobs he got me we would split 60 my way and 40 his way. Such was the job up at SamChullyHo Bicycle Company. As I mentioned before, I would drive his car up and back whenever I had class there. While not stated in the contract, he insisted I pay for the gas and that seemed fair enough to me. Every month SamChully would send him the monthly fee for my superior English Teaching and then he would divide out my 60%, subtract a chunk for gas, and give me the rest.

That arrangement worked pretty well until Shin decided to let me in on a secret that he was under-reporting my salary to the goverment so he wouldn't have to deduct as much Income Tax from my pay. (I was paying Income Tax to the Korean gov't?) He marketed it as a benefit to me 'cuz it saved me money, but it just made me more and more suspicious of him and his accounting methods. If he had never planted that thought in my dome, I might never have peaked inside the envelope of cash SamChully handed me for October 1987.

Inside that envelope I found 50% more cash than Shin told me they were paying. That means I was getting 60% of 50% of what they paid. I couldn't believe it. I must've counted that cash 20 times. I had Brian count it. I couldn't believe it. Then subtract from my cut the money for gas in the Pony. How much is gas anyway?

I volunteered to fill the tank on the way to SamChully one day. Turns out he was charging me more for gas to go to Yangsan and back each week than it cost to fill the Pony for the whole month for everywhere it went. I asked the SamChully executives about it. How much was gas. How many MPG (KPG) the Pony got. How much they spent on gas per month in their own cars. No matter how I mathematized it, I was getting gouged there too. I confirmed with them how much they paid for my services each month too. Again, confirmed. I could only guess Shin thought I would never figure it out.

As I noted in my journal, I had planned to tell Shin of my plans to bail on the contract because he was ripping me off, but I must've called an audible at the line of scrimmage.

Before actually going through with the Midnight Run, I consulted another English Teacher in town. He was somewhat of a big wig at Shi-Sa or somewhere. I laid out the facts as I knew them and he was supportive of my decision. That was all I needed as a capper on top of the rest.

You already know what happened the first week of November 1987...

An Awkward Transition

Hometown USA 1987

November 8 1987
I landed in LA without a plane ticket onward and in true Korean style, I went right up to the check-in counter and paid cash for a ticket on the next available flight home.

That left me nearly 2 months to decompress, chill out, and figure out what to do next with my life. I didn't work at all during this period. I hung out at my future brother-in-law's apartment. Generally, I lived the life of riley. I looked forward to the huge box that carried my stereo more than anything else. All the while I was burning through what little money I had left from Korea.

The obvious next step for me was to get back in school and try to get a degree.

January 1988
Here's what I wrote in my journal:
It's January 20-something. I haven't written since November last. If you can believe that. Came home from Korea and straight to Jeff's apartment. I hung out at Jeff''s for 1.5 months. Home for Christmas. I loved America and hated Korea and Koreans. Started school again. I don't mind so much but all my money is gone and it is hard to study. My family is cool. I have been reading. I don't know what I feel or think. I don't know what to do. The other day I was walking and from across the street I heard the sound of Korea Speaking. I saw 4 guys. I yelled: "Hey! Why aren't you speaking English? This is America." They muttered something so I said: "How do you expect to live in this country if you don't know English"? Now that I think about it I might have said more but I trust my point was made. I was pumped and shaking. I am way behind in school. I don't have a job. Brian is officially engaged. That didn't take long. He bought a ring. I miss him.

The Anti-Climax

1987 in South Korea

Saturday November 7
Having arrived in Seoul around mid-day, the first order of business was to find a cheap place to spend the night. We grabbed a small room with a floor to share near the station and headed immediately for the airline office to pick up and pay for my ticket. While so many things could have gone wrong with that whole procedure, all was smooth sailing and after parting with most of my remaining cash, I had my ticket in hand.

We went to Itaewon and shopped. I picked up some black Eel Skin dress shoes that I had ordered on our last trip to Seoul. I was really psyched about them at the time, but I quickly realized they were way too small, a tad cliché, and ugly to boot. We loaded up on other trinkets and trash. We wandered around in a state of giddiness combined with trepidation. We were excited to be heading home, but there was a nagging fear in my head that something would prevent me from leaving. My mind ran through the many scenarios by which Mr. or Mrs. Shin had stopped by on Saturday to check on me, or check that Brian left without issue, and found me gone too. I imagined they then called the airlines, called immigrations, called I don't know whom. But I was on a contract and I imagined they had legal recourse against me disappearing. And I knew Shin was not afraid to use any means possible to protect his language institute.

Perhaps that nagging worry drove me to the Post Office to carry out one of my last acts in Seoul. I have no recollection of doing it, but in January 1988 I wrote in my journal that on that last day in Seoul I "wrote to Mr. Shin and to SamChullyHo to clarify." I have no idea if they ever received those letters, or how they might have reacted to them, or what the letters actually said.

Sunday November 8
We got up early and humped our heavy luggage out to Kimpo. Nobody was waiting there for me. Nobody to grab me up and send me back to Busan. Without ceremony Brian and I boarded for LA and bade farewell to the Land of the Morning Calm.

Don't Pack the Mousse

1987 in Busan, South Korea

Friday November 6... Continued...
After my evening classes I returned to the apartment to start packing. Brian was fully packed and a bit antsy so I took a break from packing and we went to the club. We partied for a few hours before returning home to finish packing. Brian napped for a couple hours while I threw the remainder of my belongings in a large black expandable travel bag on wheels.

Having completed packing, we took a look around the apartment. Beds gone. Armoire gone. Stereo gone. Fridge empty. It would be quite obvious to the next person who entered the place that it had been abandoned. Our last childish act as we left was to empty a hair mousse canister into the kitchen sink building a small hill of fluffy whiteness. Odd.

Around 5 a.m. in the early morning darkness, we humped our heavy bags down four flights of stairs, and wheeled them out of the apartment complex. We both waved to the "security guard" at the entrance on our way past, and went down to the main street to hail a cab. It took two cabs to fit both of us and our bags, but eventually we met up at the station. We both probably slept the whole way anyway, so I honestly don't recall if we took a train or the bus. But all roads lead to Seoul anyway right?

Architecture and Morality

1987 in Busan, South Korea

Friday November 6... Continued...

My plan was to go home after my morning classes and get all packed. Then I would finish my evening classes and head to Seoul with Brian. However, since I told Mr. Shin I didn't feel up to driving to Yangsan, his angel of a wife grew concerned I was ill. She told me she was bringing lunch over to the apartment right when I was planning to do the packing.

She and Mr. Shin showed up with a grand feast of some health-restoring beef stew thing and rice with many side dishes (and Kimchi). To their eyes everything must have appeared in order at the apartment. All of Brian's stuff was packed, but none of mine was. In my room was the giant closet (armoire) I had bought. My bed and headboard were intact with my lovely pink blanket thereon. My Lotte Pioneer stereo sat in my bedroom ready to play any tape I wanted to hear. Probably OMD's Architecture and Morality.

We all ate. The Shin's left. I went to the Institute to teach my evening classes. While I taught, the guy I bought the armoire and the bed from went to the apartment and picked them up. He paid me some fair amount for them since I had only used them for a couple months (he bought back Brian's bed too). Another dude went over and crated up my Lotte stereo in a big wooden box. Brian paid him for me and the guy took it and put it on a slow boat for the states.

(That is how I come to still have this stack. Maybe someone will buy it from me at our Yard Sale this weekend...)

Pure Torment

1987 in Busan, South Korea

First week of November 1987
(After November 1, I didn't record anything from this eventful week in my journal for a few months. I'll do my best to get down here what happened during that time. Later I might also try to analyze it.)

Monday November 2
I started my November classes at the Institute and at SamChullyHo Bikes just as I had for the previous 6 months. Brian was not teaching at all because he had told Mr. Shin he was headed home and he had bought his ticket. As of Nov. 1st I had also reserved a seat on the same flight back as Brian. We were to depart Kimpo November 8 and fly direct to LA. Then continue on home from there. I didn't have a flight booked from LA onward yet however, and I had not paid for my ticket from Kimpo to LA. I also had not mentioned to Shin that I was planning to weasel out of our contract and bail like a thief in the night...

At some point in January 1988 I recorded in my journal that my "last week in Korea was pure torment. Convincing myself I must go. Playing, dancing, working..." It truly was a difficult week for me. I had guilt about what I was planning to do. Plus I didn't know what kind of trouble I could be in if I got caught. Since there was so much red tape involved in getting to Korea in the first place, I imagined all kinds of things going wrong. But for several reasons that I'll get into later, I couldn't (didn't? wouldn't?) see any other alternative. As late as October 28 I had every intention of telling Mr. Shin I was leaving.

Friday November 6
I woke up and went to the Institute to teach my morning classes as normal. But I told Mr. Shin I did not feel up to driving to Yangsan to teach the SamChullyHo executives. After all, I had not even packed a single thing yet...

Being Careful

1987 in Busan, South Korea

November 1
My reservation is confirmed and it looks like I'm gone. I must be careful this week. Carrie called. We went to Paradise twice and the DJ thought we were from London. Halloween party. My whole family called and I talked to Jeffrey about marrying my sister. Weird.

Shamblesed

1987 in Busan, South Korea

October 18
Sunday again. To the base and back. This week was busy. Class on Saturday. I didn't see Young-sook once. I saw her tonight. She is rad but she doesn't love me. She is too worried about some other guy. I was just a passing thrill. Brian told me he is going home. He isn't on a contract like me so it's no big deal. I might die here but there is no honest way out except to tell Mr. Shin I am leaving and go. I got a letter from Loaf and Jeff. They love each other. Did Young-sook ever love me?! Referring to what she said to me last week, I asked her about it and she said, "So, what about it"? At least I have my book to read.

October 22
Referring to the question above: the answer is "no." I am convinced that I must leave here soon. Brian will leave in about 2 weeks. He told Mr. Shin. He was pissed, but what can he do about it? It's cold. I can't even stand the sight of Mr. Shin. My head spins for my worries.

October 28
I'm writing so sporadically. Twins won the World Series. I must jam. Tomorrow lunch with Mr. Shin. I wonder what he'll say when I tell him I'm leaving. I'll go home with no money. I am shamblesed.

Straight to Seoul

1987 in Busan, South Korea

October 7
Long time. Chuseok. 5 day vacation. Young-sook came over today after we saw Mannequin together. She was too bored so she left. Lately it has been terrible. Maybe I'll just die. I think Young-sook is done with me. I only have 5 classes in October. We had a party here and it was dead. The only highlight was KHI Goddess Miss Kim coming. She called tonight and I am bored now. Brian and I will go to Suncheon and Seoul.

October 10
We didn't go to Suncheon. Straight to Seoul and we shopped like crazy. I bought two rad pairs of shoes. I love them. We bought tons of shirts and American food and there were so many box chicks. Seoul is paradise and I am trapped on the outside of it. Our new saying is: "That's Seoul." We bought [unintelligible] and a suit. We spent all of our money so we had to come home. There was no bus. We took the night train from Seoul to here. I talked to my dad too.

October 11
We got invited to a party on base. When we got there it was almost over. Though on the way I stopped and called Young-sook but she acted like she didn't even want to see me. I am now still deep in sadness. I called Vince. On the subway some lady's kid peed on my leg.

New Digs

1987 in Busan, South Korea

September 30

We moved and we are settled.* Young-sook came over but she left early. I am convinced but... Soo-jin and Eun-sook came.** Eun-sook is rad. Our beds are here.*** I have been sick for several days. I talked to Miss Jang twice in one week. I want out.

*We moved into a new, larger apartment in a newer neighborhood. Mr. Shin took care of all the finances; lodging being part of the compensation package. It seems like the neighborhood was 구서동 or 수서동 or something. I remember that taxi drivers never knew it by name (coulda been my pronunciation).

**I have no recollection of these young ladies. Rad or not.

***Brian and I bought beds. After 5 months on the floor, I figured it was time to take care of #1. It was a nice piece of furniture with a full headboard with book shelves (I read The Last Phase of the East Asian World Order in that bed) and drawers for added storage. It had a firm queen size mattress. A perfect complement to my wellness shortcut.

"You better not turn your back on a Paradise"

1987 in Busan, South Korea

September 20
Sunday. We didn't make it to Taegu. We hung out. Yesterday too, nothing. To Xanadu for free with two women whom I didn't want to be with. Tonight to 쉼표 for the last time.* Young-sook called later and she is my Sister of Mercy.** Mr. Shin's mum died.

September 23
Yesterday to Seo-myeon with Young-sook. She is box. Today to Yangsan and I met Miss Kim the goddess of KHI. I love her.***

*Certainly these are hollow words of empty promise. I most definitely kept going to 쉼표 for the culture and society. Oh, and obviously for the rest ;-)...

** "No Sister of Mercy oh don't cry for me. (Sister of Mercy) No Sister of Mercy it's all awright for me."

***I must've mentioned this goddess Miss Kim 10 times by now. Sadly, I have no recollection of her at all. I'm not even sure what I meant by "met" in this case. I already knew her by this time so I am not using the "nice to meet you" sense of "met." I don't recall any one-on-one "미팅" either. I am guessing I just ran into her in some unexpected fashion. Still, I wonder what it would be like to meet up today and talk it over. Prolly more awkward than cool I imagine.

My little sister got married nearly three weeks ago. After the wedding there was a reception/party where all the old school folks from the hometown come around to greet the new couple. It's a nice reunion of faces not seen for many moons. Lots of laughs, a few tears, the mini donut maker from the Saturday Farmer's Market was there making mini donuts. Go figure.

I caught up with a nice lady from the old hometown. Her husband is in Afghanistan with the Guard. Her son is home from Iraq missing one leg. Her sister is there with her. Many people thought I would marry the oldest daughter of that sister. Nope. I told her I see her son Jed (I didn't tell her I see him pulling hard and long on the hookah), she just rolls her eyes and says "Jed."

Later, I'm standing by myself loading carbs via the cinnamon-sugar mini donuts, and my Mom's old friend Marilyn walks up. She says, "Do you remember me"?

I think to myself: Of course I do; I had the biggest crush on you when I was younger. Should I tell her that? It might be funny...

But she's standing with her grisled old farmer husband, and my brain can't compute any mathematics that would have made it OK for me to have a crush on her when I was younger. So I holster the "I had a huge crush on you" line and we exchange pleasantries for a few. Mom later tells me Marilyn is 13 years older than I. She married in 1978 or 9. I would have been 13 or 14 when I was crushing. Nothing wrong with that I suppose...?

Maybe it wouldn't be such a great idea to "meet" the KHI Goddess Miss Kim again.

The Lick and the Snap

1987 in Busan, South Korea

September 16
Class and nothing special. Young-sook came over and she was bored and I fear lest I am losing her. Everyday to Yangsan and I have too much free time. Nothing happens.

September 18
Well complain about nothing happening, catch this. Alex killed in Table tennis. I met Eun-sook and we all went to the Downtown where a huge fight ensued.* What can I do?

*And now, the rest of the story...

A new nightclub opened in one of the hotels down on Haeundae Beach. It was called "Lalique." We joked that Lalique was French for "The Lick." "Let's go to 'The Lick' tonight."

The DJ at The Lick was a British bloke with favorable music taste. Since Brian and I were commonly the only foreigners in there, he would play songs we liked and we would dance dance dance. Definitely a recipe for good times.

On this night, Brian and I were dance dance dancing when I noticed a group of Korean guys staring, pointing, and mocking our dance style. After enduring them for some time, I finally snapped. I'm not typically a violent type, don't look for or get into fist fights, don't recall ever punching anyone; I'm more of a verbal brawler you might say.

Anyway, I snapped. I charged over and gave the ring leader a solid two-handed push in the chest. That alone was probably more than was needed to convey my message, but I was in another's body it seems. He reeled backwards and fell down against one of the giant speakers on the edge of the dance floor. Before he could get up I was on him. I had my left knee in his gut and my left arm around his head, my right arm punching his face and head while I cradled it. His friends grabbed at my swinging right arm trying to pull me off, but I pushed them away and kept at him.

Finally they got us separated. Brian and I--sweating and fuming--went and sat down. The snappee, not much worse for the wear, came over a few minutes later attempting to apologize in English but I wasn't having any of it. I said "죽을래 (you wanna die)"? He went back to his friends and we left The Lick.

Cherry Blossom Tribute

May 6, 2009
Hometown USA

Sadly, I am not in Korea this spring so I cannot post a series of Cherry Blossom photos like so many others have done. Instead I have decided to post my own blossom photos from my property as a form of tribute. I hope you relish them as much as I.

Unplanned bloom against a cloudy sky, dappled by Autumn Blaze Maple:Unplanned bloom framed by Foerster Feather Reed Grass

Sango Kaku: a form of Japanese maple with bright red bark and green leaves that yellow in Fall. Expensive but attractive. Same as my college girlfriend. 3 Tulips Potential Tulips Unwanted visitors (thanks to the neighbor):

Lilacs in bloom. This tree was included when we bought the house.

Dwarf Alberta Spruce. Aunty gave us $30 when my dad died. I bought this tree with that money.

Stella D'oro Day Lily. It will bloom one day...Look how pretty. Anyone know what this tree is?

A closer look:

Honey bee doing work. Packing a load of pollen. That is a Prairie Fire Crab Apple tree. Lovely blooms. Lovely tree. The added bonus is the persistent crabs. (That means the fruit never falls off; no mess on the ground.)

Last but not least, my 무궁화:

Close-up shot of the buds. Feel free to get metaphorical.

Boss and Box?

1987 in Busan, South Korea

September 4
Class and all. Yangsan. At night I met Young-sook. She is so rad to me. She will come over tomorrow.

September 5
My closets came. We re-arranged. Went to Spa. I bought some pants and went to the Casino and lost 30,000 won. Came home and Young-sook came over and she is so boss and box. I have 7 digits in my bank account. I'm a Won Millionaire. OK.

September 13
Sunday. Much has happened. Young-sook is always near me. The other day before her day off she dragged me off to a 여관. We spent the night there together. She is so rad. I can't help but feel that I am lucky to keep her attention for so long. I am spending too much money on useless things. Like the Casino for example...Carrie called long time 만에. She works at a company in Yangsan. Brian and I stayed in all day.

September 16.
Class and nothing special. Young-sook came over and she was bored and I fear lest I am losing her. Everyday to Yangsan and I have too much free time. Nothing happens.