VOTE

Just do it, ok?
Where you put your check-mark is another issue entirely.
But the most important part is getting that check mark on the ballot and into a ballot box.
We can only live in a democratic society if we, the people, act democratically.
And that means voting.
Got it?
Good.

2 co-workers down, 2 to go...

During my first "official" week of work at Lee English Academy one of our 5 employees walked out of our staff meeting and out of the life of our Hagwon forever. Since that time the workload of we, the remaining teachers, has increased 25% (not to mention the extra classes that have been scheduled during our students' 2-month break from public school). Did we received any extra wages for this blatant raise in our pay? No, certainly not. But was I complaining? No. Why? Because I was still just at my 30 contracted teaching hours per week, and 'cause there was little any of us could do about Joon's departure. So that's been life for the past 2 months (--can you believe it's already been two months?!?!?!?).

What arrived yesterday was the straw that will, almost imminently, break this camel's back. Our 4th teacher called-in sick Wednesday morning, by mid-afternoon she had been admitted into the hospital, and before I left work that night she had received some sort of operation and was sleeping safely in the recovery room. What that means for me is that I my daily schedule now begins at 1:00pm, ends at 11:00pm, lacks any breaks to speak of, and includes 33% more paperwork.

I'm beginning to think the word "work" is the most foul four-letter word existent in the English language. I also think we should revise the spelling of the word "stress" so that it can be included with our other illustrious obscenities. What says you, pray?

Nunchucks

Can I ask you a personal question?

When you hear the name "Michaelangelo" what do you think of:

A) The master renaissance painter whose inspired frescos have made the walls of the sistine chapel the crowning glory of the Vatican?

Or,

B) The nunchuck-weilding cartoon "hero in a half shell" who wore his orange mask with pride and ate gross amounts of pizza without abandon?

Well, I felt much more like the later character than the former when I had my first experience with nunchucks in my Tae Kwon Do class this morning. They're really fun but really difficult to control. Again, all the 8 year-old around me were effortless masters at the skill, whereas I was (again) the flailing clown who incurred numerous bruises during practice. Who knew coordination could be so important?

There were, however, some other developments today: we did some kicking practice, which offered me an opportunity to demonstrate the limited skills I garnered in Toronto prior to my grand departure. So I can kick, and I proved that today. I am by no means good, but I do have some power there (which is liberating to remember and utilize). So things are looking up in the general learning-to-kick-ass department.

Tae Kwon Go GO GO!!!!

Oops! I totally neglected to tell you: I finally hunted down a Tae Kwon Do academy close to my place of work, that accommodates my CRAZY schedule, last Tuesday. The Master was very kind: he finally agreed to take me on after I stood in his office for about 15 minutes mumbling the words "Tae Kwon Do," "Me," and "Joo-say-oh" (which is: "I would like" in Korean) incessantly and refusing to leave his office until he indicated some sort of confirmation. In the end he bade me to return this Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 11am ready to practice (I think).

So started my tri-weekly classes this morning. I walked into the Do-Jan, nervously-excited to begin, only to discover that along with being the only foreigner in the class, I am the only girl and I am the only person over 12 years old. So I have become the entertainer of the class: flailing my long limbs around without any comprehensible instruction while the 8 year olds kick and punch circles around me. My one advantage is that I can do cartwheels better than any of the boys (a skill which seem utterly unrelated to the art of whoopin' some major ass -- Korean style, but hey -- I'll take what I can get).

Is it strange that I felt a rush of elated superiority when I realized I could execute a cartwheel better than a whole room of young boys? Wouldn't you feel the same way? Well... Ok, maybe not... However, the Master did approach me after class to shake my hand and (seemingly) congratulate me for not dying of embarrassment. I'm hoping Wednesday will bring more instruction and less youthful, high-pitched laughter. I'll keep you updated.

A secret admirer?

Dear Robomatic: Who are you? And why are you encouraging my pseudo-academic tendencies? Based on Robert Graves' introduction, The Valley of the Latin Bear looks surprisingly attuned to my present circumstances. Where did you find this Hungarian doctor-turned-ESL teacher? I'm interested to know...

Idiocy 101

Activities this past weekend included some shopping, some socializing, some solitary time, some bathhouse time, and some utter idiocy on the part of Yours Truly. I convinced the guy, named Guy, who's selling me his motorcycle to give me a couple of test-runs on the thing under his guidance prior to his departure. I figured this was a good idea,

A) because I've never driven a REAL motorcycle before,
B) because I've never (successfully) driven a "standard" vehicle (and no, driving to NYC in 5th gear does NOT count Daniel), and
C) becuase I thought it would be fun.

But oh no, oh no, things could not have turned out worse! First, I found out that my soon-to-be motorcycle is VERY old and lacking some basic necessities, such as mirrors (broken off, fixable) and an automatic ignition (there is a kick-start). But that's fine. I can take it to the garage and fix it up for not too much dough (considering I'm only paying $250 for the thing to begin with). After numerous attempts to start the dusty klunker we finally got her going, filled her with gas, and then took her to an abandoned back road on the outskirts of Mokpo to test her out. It was damned cold and the wind was picking up, but everything was going pretty smoothly until I was caught on one foot trying to kick-start the bike again (after having stalled it for the millionth time). It was at this point that a HUGE gust of wind came tearing across the empty industrial area. It caught me totally off-guard which meant I was falling over and the big old heavy bike was coming with me. Scrambling to keep myself from being hurt, I pulled my leg and arm out from under the descending vehicle, preferring that it take the full brunt of the impact rather than my appendages. Unfortunately the point of impact was the clutch handle-bar which, in the bitter cold, snapped neatly off the aging bike. Without a clutch there was no way to shift the bike out of neutral, which meant there was no way of riding it to a garage to get it fixed and no way of getting ourselves home. With my tail between my legs we walked for 55 minutes back to Guy's apartment, after having abandoned the bike behind an abandoned shop of some sort. Guy was really good about the whole thing but I felt like an utter and COMPLETE ass. He said he'd take care of getting it fixed and back inside of city limits, but I think I owe him a beer (if not 10) for putting up with my stupidity. As it turns out, I'm not a strong biker babe. I'm more like a squealing baby piglet scrambling to suckle at my indifferent momma hog's teat: not only am I unable to get to the goods but mom just gave me a huge kick in the ass. Frikin' HELL!!! Thanks Momma... Arg!

There's a hole in the door

On the front door to my apartment there is a mysterious hole located on the bottom right-hand side (when viewed from the exterior hallway). I have no idea what the hole is for or why it's covered with such an elaborate metal face-plate (which, when slid open, reveals an empty cavity not large enough for a letter but not too small for a bomb). Every door in my building has one. Any guesses would be welcomed.

Sewing oats...

Following my lacklustre Wednesday evening I woke up feeling that Thursday needed to be a pub night. Jess was rounding up the troops by phone for a good-sized gathering so I decided it was high-time for Tracy to be social.

And I was! For a good couple of hours following work (which ended at 11pm), I chatted and laughed with the foreign population in Mokpo. You see: I'm not totally hopeless -- even if I do have my nights of non-contact.

Knit-picking...

One thing I think I'm beginning to realize is that there is a fundamental difference between those people who have ventured abroad to escape their former lives and those who are traveling to broaden their life experience. Those determined to "start afresh" or reinvent themselves seem to need the constant validation that is provided by the shallow social relationships formed here. I, for one, am very aware that I have some totally awesome, absolutely fabulous, friends-for-life living back at home and around the world. Thus, I find myself lacking the motivation to forge what will seemingly be transient relations (at best). Physical relationships aside, I believe it takes time, trust and honesty to form a friendship -- even the casual kind. The people I've met here haven't yet compelled me to want to make that kind of effort. Nor do I feel the need to really introduce myself to them. The other day a person at the bar, of all places, turned to Jessica and I and said, "Ok, so I really don't know you guys very well so why don't we do some of those standard 'who am I' questions, ok?" To which I responded, "Well actually Jess and I don't know each other very well either..." At which point Jess cut me off and said, "I think we know each other pretty well, don't you?" This was a point of pause for me. I didn't know what to say. I felt (and still feel) as though Jessica knows little to nothing about me, and yet there she was defending out (absent) acquaintanceship. Am I being pretentious? I just don't feel anyone can say they "know" anyone else after less than a month of conversance. She doesn't even know I went to an arts school for God's sake! Honestly, she knows nothing about me.

What I'm trying to say here is that I am wondering why I keep feeling bad for not making greater efforts to be social. I was walking home from work tonight after specifically declining an invitation to go out and although I was legitimately fatigued and uninterested, I was annoyed with myself for preferring to spend time alone. I started doing all this psycho-analytical bull-shit like: "Is this just another case of Tracy's running-away syndrome?" or "Are you depressed?" and "Is wanting to read your book instead of drinking beer in a smoky bar a bad thing?", "What are you hiding from?", "What do you want?".

That last one is probably the real question at hand. What is it that I want to gain from this experience abroad? Do I want to come away with foggy memories of nights in a bar with other foreigners? Do I want to say that I "finally got all that reading I've been meaning to do done"? Do I want to see the country and interact with the locals? Do I want to form a whole new group of friends? What is it I want to accomplish while living in Mokpo? This is a good question, and not one that I will necessarily be able to answer right away. But I'm glad I'm beginning to think about it. Even if it does keep me out of the bars and in my fuzzy pyjamas at home.

Renter's paradise...?

This is the view of my suburban paradise from the top of our local mountain. I went climbing Sunday night and found this vista particularly arresting. (Yes, I realize I am using very ambiguous terms but paradise is what you make of it, n'est pas? At least, that's what I've always believed.) Toronto look's really REALLY good from this vantage point...

My Bookshelf

For those interested, the following titles made up the 30lbs. of literature I "carried on" my flight from Toronto to Mokpo. In no particular order they are:

-*Don't Sweat the Small Stuff... and it's all small stuff by Richard Carlson
-The Dubliners by James Joyce
-From Ink Lake: Canadian Stories Edited by Michael Ondaatje
-Clara Callan by Richard B. Wright
-A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers
-A Student of Weather by Elizabeth Hay
-Introducing: Critical Theory
-Introducing: Sociology
-*The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
-Hopscotch by Julio Cortazar
-Kamouraska by Anne Hebert
-The French Lieutenant's Woman by John Fowles
-The Ash Garden by Dennis Bock
-The Selected Works of Gertrude Stein
-Love in the Time of Cholera by G.G. Marquez
-Louis Riel by Chester Brown
-Pyongyang: A Journey in North Korea by Guy Delisle's
-Introduction to Philosophy by Peter K. McInerney
-The Educated Imagination by Northrop Frye
-The Art of Fiction by John Gardner
-Eats, Shoots & Leaves by Lynne Truss
-Dialogues of Plato
-Who do you think you are? by Alice Munro
-A room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf
-Next Episode by Hubert Aquin
-*Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee
-Pilgrim by Timothy Findley
-Beloved by Toni Morrison
-Corelli's Mandolin by Louis de Bernieres
-The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields
-Barney's Version by Mordecai Richler
-Belle and Sebastian by Paul Whitelaw
-No Logo by Naomi Klein
-Norton Anthology of Modern Poems

(*** Stars indicate the books I have already read.)

Au revoir Monsieur Layton

One of Canada's literary icons "left the building" today. Irving Layton was a self-proclaimed arrogant asshole, but isn't that why we all (including his 5 divorced wives) loved him so much? Reminds me a bit of my grandfather for no good reason... Here are some "choice cuts":

Misunderstanding

I placed
my hand
upon
her thigh.

By the way
she moved
away
I could see
her devotion
to literature
was not
perfect.


On My Way To School

On my way to school
I used to pass
A Baptist church
And fields of grass.

"Jesus Saves"
Above the gate
Would comfort me
If I were late.

The church is gone,
The street is paved,
The Home Bank thrives
Where Jesus Saved.

R.I.P. old man. For more along these lines see http://irvinglayton.blogspot.com/

On the brink of starting all over again...

Without exception, the most boring day yet...

9:00am -- I wake up involuntarily, eat breakfast and then go back to sleep.
11:30am -- I wake up again and decide to climb the local mountain with Jessica.
12:00pm -- We stop by the bank before heading to the mountain. It is at this point that I decide to admit to both myself and Jessica that I'm still too sick for such an excursion, so I wimp out and go back to our apartment and crawl back into bed.
3:00pm -- I wake up again, watch another movie and then eat some dinner.
5:30pm -- I decide I need a hot bath so I head out to the local bathhouse to bathe naked with a bunch of Korean women.
6:00pm -- I meet another "Westerner" who gives me her number and invites me to have dinner with her sometime during the next few weeks. (This is not at all strange, even though we're both naked, and sitting in a hot-tub surrounded by a bunch of other naked Korean women. I make a note to call her once I no longer have a temperature or mucus invollunarily dripping down my face (whichever comes first).)
7:30pm -- I return home, watch some TV and then head to bed. Another uneventful weekend in Mokpo. If someone hadn't reminded me it was New Year's I doubt I would have thought any differently about it.

So no exciting stories... I guess I'll have to make next year the year to remember...

Sickness Stalls the Senses...

Today's unfortunately lacklustre itinerary:

9:00am -- Wake up (full of snot and coughing uncontrolably...)
9:15am -- Go to a doctor's office (under the supervision of my Korean boss's husband).
9:30am -- Have my temperature and blood pressure taken. Sit in the foreign doctor's office with numerous other sick persons. Total waiting time: 12 minutes.
9:45am -- Receive prognosis: I have asthma and (if my pocket translator serves me correctly) fluid in my lungs. I must return to this doctor again on Monday. Fee charged: a whopping $3.
9:50am -- Receive requisite needle in the bum (the result of any and every visit to a Korean doctor (or so say the other ex-pat's in Mokpo)).
9:55am -- Go to my first Korean pharmacist to pick up a melange of 7 pills to be take 3 times a day for the following 3 days. Fee charged: Another whopping $3.
10:04am -- Go to a dermatologist's office to assess the grossness that are my hands right now.
10:05am -- See the doctor who tells me that I have an infection and suggests that the cats in my midst might be negatively affecting my epidermis. "Rubbish," I think, "Pure RUBBISH!!!"
10:07am -- Receive a prescription and a bill (another $3).
10:10am -- Have my prescription filled at another Korean pharmacy (this time it was $3.50)
10:30am -- I arrive back at my apartment ready for my 1st nap of the day.
1:00pm -- I wake up coughing, and full of mucus. I eat lunch, download a movie, and walk to the supermarket to buy some more Kleenex and other essentials.
3:00pm -- Return home for nap #2.
5:00pm -- I wake up and eat some dinner, channel-surf until 9:00pm after which I watch another movie, watch the fireworks over the Mokpo Harbour (out the window of my 7th-floor apartment), and fall asleep before midnight alone in my apartment (Jessica decided to go out and be social).

Certainly not my most exciting New Year's ever, but perhaps a smart way to spend the weekend if I am to survive the next 2 months of intensive English language school. The public schools are now having their 2-month vacation so our Hagwon is running extra classes, inducting new students, and generally running FULL STEAM AHEAD until March. Needless to say, life in Tracyville is sadly simple: eat, sleep, work (sigh!).