A Brief Note on Korean Culture

Before we got here to Seoul, I am not really sure what kind of culture we were expecting. I was definitely expecting something more eastern than what we got. In our own building, there is Dunkin Donuts, Baskin Robbins, and within a hundred yards there is McDonald's, Starbucks, and Pizza Hut. This does not even begin to convey how many Korean 'equivalent' shops there. Coffee shops are a dime a dozen, as are bakeries (mostly French and European). There is also an Outback Steakhouse one block up.

Needless to say, it is slightly more Western than we anticipated and had hoped for. While this has aided our transition, it is somewhat annoying as we often feel that we are not in a foreign culture. More annoying yet is that materialism is just as rampant here as in the States. As you are all familiar with and inundated with materialism, I will not bother to say more on that.

What is interesting though, is that beyond the superficial western influences, there are deeper ones as well. It seems that Korea is currently in the same position that America was in in the 1950s. Drawing from my vast personal knowledge of that golden age of...dinosaurs? I feel confident making this assertion. It is a time of personal wealth, affluence, and prosperity. Many homes can survive on a single family income. There is very much an attitude of 'keeping up with the Jones' and if your neighbor gets the latest gadget, you must as well. Those are the easiest ways to see it, but it also comes through in more subtle ways. No one knows about drugs here. There is no drug problem or a 'drug war.' If there is, it is infinitesimal and they hide it so well that there may as well not be.

To say that women here are treated like they were in the '50s is a misnomer at best, and just not true. In some ways, they are treated even better than the States – you are required to have separate bank accounts. Even married couples (such as us) are not allowed to have joint checking. There is no doubt pigeon-holing of women's roles occurs, but it does not seem to be anywhere near as bad as the '50s (Again, from my vast personal experience.) It caught us slightly off guard to see such a throwback (to us), but at the same time, I am trying to imagine what an upcoming Korean counterculture looks like. Korean flower power, bring it baby!

Josephine's Story

So, the first thing I remember was looking up, and seeing some strange creature way taller than my sister or me. He was poking us, looking at us, and then picking us up. That was the weirdest thing. Being picked up and taken so far from the ground. It scared me.

The next thing I remember was two other creatures who looked similar, but somehow different, coming in and looking at my sister and me. They were smiling, and they spoke softly. They took us away from this strange place we didn't like, but they took us to another strange place. It was smaller, but somehow nicer, warmer. There we found a friend like us. Only Peanut was big. Really big. I wondered if we would ever be that large. He taught us many cool things, like how to clean ourselves with our tongues and poop in this special box that stopped it from smelling horrible. He also taught us how not to bite too hard and many cool cat things. He was very cool, and seemed like he could replace our - what's the word - parent? Something we miss but don't know what it is. The two big people called me Eponine, and my sister was Cosette. Then, right as we were getting comfortable with these super tall beings who smiled and played with us, MORE of them showed up. Two more, to be exact.

They came in, and naturally, my sister Cosette and I wanted nothing to do with them. They were tall, they smelled weird, and let's face it, They were BIG! They forced us to play with them, which wasn't so bad. Peanut seemed to not like them at all, and kept hissing at them and yelling, which for some reason they thought was cute. I think he knew they were going to take us away. He already missed being an uncle to us. The female one kept saying that she wanted something small to love and nurture. I wasn't sure what that meant, but we figured it out shortly. After playing for a while they unceremoniously stuffed us in this yellow box and started taking us somewhere else! We protested loudly, but they paid no mind.

I had no idea the world was so big. We saw so many things! There were places with some people and some cats, places with only people, places where I could not see any ceiling and there was this bright thing way high up that made it hot. We were on this one thing for a while that made noise and went super fast. I didn't know anything could run that fast. Maybe one day I'll run like that. And then, we stopped somewhere comfortable. It's hard to describe, but it felt good, like we were meant to be there. Even though it was unfamiliar, it felt familiar somehow.

They took us out of the yellow box, put us down on this warm floor, and we could run! There were so many new smells and new things to explore. There were things we could scratch, strings and mice to play with, even this lame bird that didn't move or try to fly away! I loved it. Cosette loved it too. She's whiny though, and every time I try to wrestle with her, she whines and tries to get me to stop. She just doesn't know that she likes it yet. At first, they called me Eponine, and then Jasmine, then Jamocha, and then Josephine. That's what they call me the most now, besides, "Hey!" The big female one we are now calling 'mommy' loves to play with us, and the big male tries to be serious and father-like, but he just dissolves into playing with us and being goofy so easily. We've been in this new place for a few weeks now, but it's still exciting. Every time I think we have seen it all, they open some new door or I smell something new coming in from outside. It's nice. Even though the big people leave often, they always come back. They make sure we have enough food and water, which is nice. I think we are going to like it here.

It's story time

So, I (Justin) have been doing some writing while here. I have begun work on many, many projects, one of which is something akin to memoirs, assuming a 27 year-old with hopefully more than half his life ahead of him can have memoirs. At the very least, I am putting down stories from my childhood while I can remember them and have time. My wife liked the one I read her so much that she convinced me to post it here. With that, I give you the story of how I split my head open the first time.

When I was four, the first of many traumatic experiences happened to me. We were at Vacation Bible School, which was basically week-long Sunday School. When you are four, however, it is nothing short of the funnest thing all summer. It was lunch time in the middle of the week, and all we assorted hellions were corralled in the cafeteria space. Because I was a four year-old boy, I had the appetite of a termite and the grace of a firecracker. I finished early as I always did, and I came to an amazingly momentous decision in the life of any four year-old. I was going to show everyone how strong I was! I mean, I am four years-old. You can't really get any bigger or better until you are actually a daddy, so rock on!

I sprinted across the gym to the equipment room. Why it was unlocked and able to be accessed by small children, I will never know. I spotted three or four ladders stacked on top of each other. These are the really short A-frame kinds you used to find in gyms across wherever, used for obstacle courses etc. To my mighty four year-old stature, they were gargantuan and tall, perfect for my daring feet of strength. I dragged them (I'm not sure how) to the door and out onto the concrete in front of the volleyball court. I then tied one end of a jump rope to myself, and the other to one of the rungs or supports on the lowest A-frame, and set out on my titantic quest. I would pull them across the gym, and everyone would marvel at how strong I was! I remember this thought process consciously, noting my early need to prove my worth to those around me.

Now, I had never heard the term physics let alone 'friction,' so I can honestly blame my error in judgment on ignorance, not stupidity. I gave a mighty tug, and then felt the line go slack. This puzzled me as I was supposed to feel it give slightly and then groan in resistance as my herculean strength hauled it across the concrete floor. I began to turn just in time to feel something very solid thump into the back of my head. That is about all I remember by myself. The story picks up with the attendants running screaming across the gym to find me lying in a puddle of blood with a small pile of ladders on top of me while I scream my head off. At least I think I was. I'll claim that I was screaming. It sounds better than passing out like a pansy three year-old.

Now, this particular Vacation Bible School was run by our church's co-op daycare. It so happened that on this particular day, my mother was there serving in the room with the children too small to cause ultimate disasters. I still remember who picked me up whilst screaming, willing to get my god-like blood all over them. It was Leslie Garl. She rushed me to the daycare room where my mother was. My mom happened to be on the phone with my father at work discussing something parental and domestic. As Leslie carried me crying (my expression of pain had matured greatly by now) into the same room as my mother, my mom's eyes grew wide. She began to edge away from the phone. "Oh my God! Justin's covered in blood!" *Click* My dad was left wondering helplessly 8 miles away what had happened to his oldest child. He very calmly called the daycare back.

"Oh hi Phil. Actually, no, your wife is kind of busy right now. Well, yes, your son has been hurt, I'm not sure..." Enter the calm, serene, and imposing voice of my loving father.
"NO. STOP. YOU ARE GOING TO GET DEBBIE ON THE PHONE RIGHT NOW AND HAVE HER TELL ME EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED TO MY SON."

That is about where this particular memory stops, and the family breaks into chuckling over a holiday meal, reliving the first of many momentous injuries I have chalked up.

Old Korean Hippies

So this past weekend, we hiked Suraksan Mtn. It is quite popular with the locals, or at least the locals who are past the age of 50. We made it up to the summit without too many surprises. What we thought was a monk chanting, upon approach was discovered to be an ice cream salesman. We also passed what looked like a make-shift cafe of sorts. Either that, or a bunch of old guys making a fort and drinking themselves blind. The view was incredible from the top though. Seoul has a smog problem, so photos do not really do the view justice. It was breathtaking. Getting there took some skin too, as we had to boulder through several places, and well, granite is granite. Overall it was quite a time.

On the way back down, as we were passing the cafe/old man fort, one of the guys called to us to stop and have a drink with him. We had just run out of water, so we figured, "Why not? They have to have some water, right?" It's not like we were going to get serenaded for three and a half hours and not leave the mountain until we had eaten dinner and swapped life stories right? OOOhhhhhh, wait.

I'm glad that we were familiar enough with Simon and Garfunkel and the Eagles to join in on the choruses, and that we had enough tact not to turn down their hospitality or cooked squid. This was how we met Solomon and Jude. Solomon said that he chose the name because he wanted to be wise, and thus according to H Rider Haggard, rich. He was 50+, and his personality was the kicker. He was very sincere, very charismatic, very friendly, and well, blunt. Multiple times, he told me that I was too fat and that I needed to 'reduce my belly.' "If you have bigger belly at all, I hate you. You have no self control." I laughed at most of this, as I am decently fit for an American. I've even been losing weight here. He on the other hand looked like he weighed 140 fully clothed and soaked. We had a grand 'ole time until we had to part ways, but not before making it to two cafes, one on the mountain, one off. It has now been decided that we shall hike together once a month. More stories to come, I am sure.

The Association of Retired Grandmas Who Make People Look Bad

So, this update is full of things in Seoul that are very different from the States. One, there are free beer samples in the grocery stores. This is a plus, except that with the exception of imports, EVERY beer is a lager. There are no dark beers, or ales of any kind. But I digress. Free beer samples are great.

There are no tubs for showers. This is not ubiquitously true of Seoul, but it is the definite majority. To save on space in the one-room apartments that many people (including families) live in, the bathroom is the shower. Also, the washing machine drains into...the bathroom. So, shower shoes are a must, as we have been brushing our teeth or straightening our hair when a torrent of water 1/2" high comes rushing out of the back corner and viciously attacks us.

There is random exercise equipment everywhere. You're walking through some random cluster of buildings. Exercise equipment. You go for a walk by the river, exercise equipment. You go hiking in the mountains, reach a false summit, and there's exercise equipment. It's not like the equipment in a normal private gym or anything, but everyone uses them. In public. Exercising in public is just an accepted part of life here. I have not had the courage to try more than a cursory nod to this equipment. Maybe one day I'll Grandma-up.

We have been trying to hike around the neighborhood, which is fun and engaging, but we have discovered an unsettling fact. There is an Association of Retired Grandmas Who Make People Look Bad. All the old women come to the outdoors and green spaces, just walk around, talk, socialize amongst themselves, etc. However, they also make people look bad, like my wife and me. We are in our mid- t0 late twenties, and these Grandmas are totally schooling us. by beating us up the mountains. A bunch of REI clad, North Face wearing grandmas are coming down off the mountain before we've even set foot on it. We go scampering up, and they keep coming down. I have no clue where they came from, but they just kept coming. I don't know when they started, but we started at 10 in the morning, and they are wrapping up their morning walk. We're sweating like Richard Simmons to get up this hill, and they just calmly walk by "Anye Haseo. Anye Haseo." without so much as the idea of sweat coming to them. Like it's perfectly natural for everyone and their grandmother to be out scaling a piece of rock that belongs in Yosemite.

To say that I felt humbled is a bit of reach, but I was embarrassed for sure. When was the last time you went hiking and got passed by the retirement home welcoming committee? I am sure that this will not be the last we see of the ARGWMPLB, but I'm hoping their powers of embarrassment stay out in the mountains.

Post Script - the 'mountains' here are really just hills, no higher than 2,500', but there are many of them and they make for good hiking.

the Buddha's birthday bash

Last week was the Buddha's birthday, which means that school was cancelled for two days and tens of thousands of people descended upon Seoul to take part in the cultural festivities. We, of course, were in the thick of it...

Saturday night had a huge parade that marched down the main street of Seoul with (estimated) 15,000 people in traditional Korean costume and carrying lanterns of all shapes and sizes. (pictures will be posted) The lantern floats were magical. After everyone had marched to the temple, groups of musicians playing traditional instruments played for the crowds in the street. It didn't take much encouraging to get me out there with them dancing. (It took a little more encouragment to get Justin to dance. Apparently, there is no photographic proof however-boo!) So now one of my life-long dreams has come true-I got to dance in the streets at a big festival.=)

The next day was filled with lots booths lining the streets. Most of them were lotus lantern making (which was lame), but we did take advantage of: free acupuncture (twice), tie-die scarf making, calligraphy, more calligraphy that a crusty old man did for us, incense making, and lots of traditional dancing/music. Our last stop before we headed home was the beautiful Buddhist temple (largest of it's kind in the world). We walked among ancient architecture, beautifully painted facades, and a really big tree. Afterward we came home exhausted, but happy we were taking advantage of our new city.

How we got to Seoul

Ok - this is long. I tried to shorten it, but it is still an epic tale. Where to begin?

Logically speaking, the beginning is a decent place to start, no apologies to Julie Andrews. Back in December 2010, Katrina and I were discussing our future, plans, goals, and desires that we had. We both wanted to travel. We both want to educate/empower the less advantaged as we travel. We also needed to set aside some savings with which to do these things. So we began to consider our options and opted to look into teaching English abroad. My cousin had been teaching English in Korea for several years, so I immediately asked him about it, and he ended up giving us not only good advice, but also job offers.

So, the first obstacle we had to overcome was paperwork – we got everything taken care of and sent off the paperwork to Daejeon (2 hours south of Seoul). (middle of January) We heard back a week later – two pieces of paperwork were incorrectly completed. It turns out that the Office of Foreign Affairs, or whichever bureaucracy allows foreign teachers in, had recently changed the criteria for work visas – and didn't seem to post them anywhere. At any rate, we ended up needing two things: an apostilled (authenticated) FBI background check, and a certified copy of our diplomas. The latter was easily taken care of. The former proved to be more laborious. It can take up to 12 weeks to get it back – we got ours back in four weeks (middle of February). Upon examination – the FBI had not completely filled it out to be authenticated, and in addition, it could not be authenticated anywhere except Washington D.C. So, we had to send it back to the FBI, who completed it, but instead of forwarding it to D.C. as requested, sent it back to us. So we then sent it to D.C., waited five weeks for that, and finally received it back. (end of March)

Now, we could send it back to Korea for their bureaucracy to deal with it. One week later, we have a visa issuance number. The next stage is for us to take this number and go to the consulate in Seattle for an interview so they can issue us our visa. Simple right? We show up as scheduled – and they wanted us to fill out all the paperwork (sans background check, thankfully)we already sent to Korea, and they did not care that we have spent the last 10 weeks getting a silly number that they do not care about. We oblige, as we don't feel like doing anymore back and forth. WE JUST WANT OUR FREAKIN' VISA.

As we are making plans to depart, we have one final trip to make to Pullman to say goodbye to friends and family. We take both of our cars. In addition to all the fun times we have had with our visa applications – we've been trying to sell our cars and get our apartment rented with little luck. Selling the cars was supposed to aid our ticket purchase over to Seoul. As it turns out, my parents had been looking into getting another car in preparation for their impending move to Utah. So, my parents decided to buy my Mazda Protege5, and at the last minute, my cousin agreed to buy our Nissan Pathfinder for his daughter's first car. I fully believe that the Pathfinder would have been an awesome first car. Would Have Been. On the return trip to Seattle, about 40 minutes out from home – the Pathfinder gives a loud BANG!, starts blowing smoke, and gives up the ghost. This sounds horrible – but so many things went right. It didn't seize up immediately, allowing us to pull over to the shoulder while coasting. A couple behind us immediately saw what happened, and offered to give us a ride to the next town (North Bend). We got ahold of our insurance, got it towed to a shop where they politely informed us that we had cracked the engine block. Somehow, I think my cousin might have gotten upset if that had been him. Just a feeling. To boot, we no longer had airline ticket money.

Back to the Korean Consulate in Seattle – the very next day they inform us that our visas are finally finally ready to pick up!! Yay! Except for the $90 we have to pay for the processing fee that we don't have for another three days. So, we decide to take one thing at a time. We have to get our Pathfinder towed to a salvage yard from the shop in North Bend. We make a few calls – and find a company to pay us to get it hauled away. We're paid...$100. So we merrily skip back to the consulate and pick up our visas.

We wrapped up some other details and work out funding for our plane tickets, and now we're in Seoul. There were many many more details that we spared you, but you get the gist of how frustrating and tedious the past few months have been. We are just so so so so happy to be here in Seoul and be settling in without a thousand things to do and without having to wait on multiple governments' bureaucracy.

Still in Transit

Katrina, here, from Deajeon! Since Justin and I are temporarily separated, I thought I should post my own update on how things are going down south.

First off, why are we in different cities? Well, when we got off the plane we were met by some fabulous people (Jesse-Justin's cousin, and Kim-Jesse's girlfriend) and some details about our time in Korea. One of which was that instead of three days of training in Deajeon, I would be spending a week and a half training/covering classes. Naturally, we were surprised, but happy to help out some of the teachers that have been doing so much to make our transition a smooth one.

So here I am in Seattle's sister city across the world. The only big differences from Seoul are that fewer people speak English and the western-style food options are far less bountiful. Most of my time is spent in the classroom, which feels surprisingly good. In the past I looked forward to getting back onto the teaching horse with a fair amount of trepidation, but my first couple of days have gone delightfully uneventfully.

Mostly, I'd just like the week to be over so I can arrive at my final destination (Seoul) and start the long process of settling in. Three more days and counting...

Update 1 from Seoul

So, as we get this up and running, please be patient as there is much tweaking to do whilst resurrecting a blog, especially one in which there are now two authors. While we may do an exhaustive retelling of how we got to Seoul later, to start with we will give some first impressions.

There are pavers everywhere. In any given parking lot that would logically have asphalt - they have pavers. Any given sidewalk is either concrete or more likely, pavers. This is A) prettier than asphalt, B) more uneven than asphalt. While I am immediately willing to concede that asphalt may not be cost effective over here - I seriously wonder. All that labor to lay the pavers when you could shlack it over with a cheap layer of asphalt? I don't know. I do recognize that maintenance and upkeep of pavers would be substantially cheaper, so maybe that's why. Sometimes I notice odd things. Maybe I should be more concerned with say, the fact I can't read their alphabet.

It can be difficult to find Korean food. Now, this is not really true, as there are all kinds of restaurants, markets, and mini-marts everywhere. However, in spitting distance of my building, including some in our building itself, we have: Dunkin' Donuts, Starbucks, Pizza Hut, and McDonalds. This does not include over a half dozen bakery/coffee houses that are apparently the rage, the KFC knock-offs (fried chicken is huge). This is just our building and the one next to it. Across the street, there are even more options. We have three pizza joints. The hard part with finding Korean food is that I can't tell one shop from the next unless they have windows or I go inside, because of the alphabet. Whereas Pizza Hut, McDies, and Starbucks all have hardwired psychological responses (I think revulsion is a response...) The good news is that we have found Quimbap...Cheungon..yah. It's name translates to Kimbap Heaven, and I've adopted it as my new regular eatery/hang out. They have their entire menu on a half-size sheet of paper (none of it in English), so my current M.O. is to come in, and mark something I didn't try yesterday. So far the result has been more positive than negative.

The internet connections are amazing here. I average between 1.7 - 2 MB/sec regularly, and have gotten upwards of 6--7 MB/sec on the faster end. For $10/month.

The subway is sweet...intuitive, well-signed, easy to access for foreigners, clean, safe, with large cars. I could rave on, but I won't.

Apparently, the only music that comes over en masse from America is hiphop, so that was depressing.

Some drinks are not well-labeled. Usually you would think it be easy to tell different drinks apart, and for the most part, this is true. However, there is the occasional bottle of something that looks like it could be say, peach juice, or vitamin water. It then turns out to be say, fermented rice wine, or acetone masquerading as a chinese liquor. On the plus side, I now have something to disinfect my first aid tools with.

More to come!