Everyone has secrets, and I’m no exception. My particular dirty little secret is known only to my family and good friends. It tends to come out when I'm with a group of people listening to music, usually your typical mainstream pop. You know, Beyonce, Justin Timberlake, etc. Sometimes a comment will be made along the lines of “This song is so addictive” or “I know I shouldn’t like this stuff, but it’s fun to dance to.” And, if my companions do not seem to be music snobs, this is precisely when I often choose to reveal my secret.
I’ll take a deep breath and duck my head down to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes.
“I was a huge Backstreet Boys fan in eighth grade.”
I’m not proud of my past. But my excuse is that I was young, only 14 or so, very much interested in cute boys as a general rule, just discovering radio beyond my parents’ oldies station and highly susceptible to the musical tastes of my peers. Put it all together, and you’ve got a raging, obsessing, teeny-bopping BSB fangirl. I’ve come over time to accept my musical history as simply a part of my past; to not be so ashamed of my secret. Many girls my age were the same as I, whether the object of their obsessions were the Backstreet Boys, NSync, or even Hanson. I was young. I didn’t know any better.
Now, at 23 years of age, I should know better. And I thought I did know better.
Enter K-Pop.
My love of K-pop began with an earnest desire to connect with my students. I was frequently asked, “Teacher do you know blahblahblah?” And truthfully, I almost never knew blahblahblah. Faced with disappointed expressions, I knew that I had to become familiar at least with the popular groups if I wanted to truly bond with these teenagers. My host sister and our television set exposed me to FT Island, Wondergirls, and Super Junior. Then Big Bang and their song “Lies” entered my life.
Big Bang's "Lies" with English subtitles (Be warned, the video is kind of ridiculous.)
With an insanely addictive chorus, “Lies” became the first K-pop song that I downloaded to my computer, and it wasn't long before I could sing the entire chorus in Korean, even if I didn't fully understand what I was saying. In school my students and I talked about how good the song was and debated which Big Bang member was cuter, G-Dragon or T.O.P. (since he was older, I voted for T.O.P.). Enjoying this new level in my relationship with my students, I began reading a couple Korean pop culture blogs and became curious about one group who was particularly popular with my female students: TVXQ or Dong Bang Shin Ki. I watched a performance of their new song “Purple Line” on the internet. Good dancers, decent singers, I thought. I watched the music video. Entertaining, I thought. Still, with their over-the-top costumes and hairstyles, I mentally classified them, along with Big Bang, under “boy band” and then turned on the Beatles (who are, ironically, the original boy band).
Dong Bang Shin Ki's "Purple Line" (Korean version) with English subtitles (Be warned, the English is kind of ridiculous.)
The only problem was that I couldn't for the life of me get these Korean pop songs out of my head.
I searched online for various music videos and performances by my new favorite groups, especially Dong Bang Shin Ki. I watched subtitled interviews and variety shows and learned to identify individual members of each group, their personalities and their histories. I played their songs on repeat on my iPod, dancing and singing along the whole time. Thus, after eight years, I became a teeny-bopper all over again. For a bunch of singers who weren't much older than my students.
At first I felt embarrassed about my growing obsession. I thought I had long ago outgrown manufactured pop bands. Nevertheless, being a committed K-pop fan has definite benefits. Anything that helps my students feel more comfortable speaking to me is definitely a good thing. And at the end of a long day at school, there's nothing like turning on and dancing along to a song that's just fun, pure and simple. Plus, K-pop has actually helped me improve my vocabulary. After exploring some of Dong Bang Shin Ki's older songs, I now know how to say “I believe” in Korean, and I probably still wouldn't know “lie” - an important word in any language – if it wasn't for Big Bang.
Maybe I'm just trying to justify my changing musical tastes to myself. In any case, once I go back to America my love affair with K-pop will probably fade as a result of being out of direct contact with the culture in which it's embedded. So for now I'm putting away my guilt, warranted or unwarranted, and embracing K-pop, over-the-top fashion, and 21-year-old boys with frosted flat-ironed hair. I'm a 23-year-old American K-pop teeny-bopper, and I'm having a blast.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
The Olympic Torch Comes to South Korea
This weekend I made the trip up to Seoul, not only to have a relaxing weekend away from Hwasun but also to see the Olympic torch, which came through the city Sunday afternoon. You can read coverage and see a video of some of the more heated portions of the South Korea leg on BBC.com. (Since my camera's battery had died a painful death shortly before, I won't have pictures until I steal them from my friend.)
Since I had to come back to Hwasun to teach on Monday, I only went to see the torch at its starting point in Seoul, which was at the Olympic Park. I had mixed feelings about coming to see the torch - on one hand, this was a unique opportunity to be a part of the Olympics, which I think in general is a very positive event. On the other hand, I don't agree with China's policies in Tibet and Darfur. While I consider the China's Olympic games to be separate from China's government, I understand where the protesters around the world are coming from and think what they're doing is important. The more attention given to these issues, the better. So I felt a little guilty about attending the rally as merely a spectator, not a protester.
One of the girls I met up with in Seoul did, however, come with a "Free Tibet" sign, and was as far as I could tell the only one aside from a small group of protesters a few hundred meters down from us (more protesters showed up for other parts of the Seoul relay leg). At the park, we found a spot with a good view and waited for things to begin. The girl with the sign held it quietly, not saying or doing anything in particular. But we still managed to draw the ire of a group of Chinese supporters. It started as a small group, who told us that Tibet is and always has been a part of China; that it's already free. Then they started chanting "One China!" in loud voices, eventually drawing in more and more people until we were basically being shouted at by a huge sea of red and white. Eventually they stopped, after the girl with the sign stepped away from the area we were standing for a little while, so things wouldn't escalate too much. Since we had already attracted attention though, we got periodic visits from people taking photographs and holding their own signs up for us.
I have to make a comment about some of the signs I saw, because they really bothered me. On one side they would say, for example, "We want peace, we want one China." Generally a positive statement. On the other side, however, they would say things like, "Independence, no way, no way" or "We love Tibet because it's a part of China" - implying that Tibet as a separate entity wouldn't warrant their consideration or respect. If you're going to claim to promote peace, don't follow it up with a harsh political statement ("independence, no way") that in the end only feeds the violence.
Seeing the torch in Seoul was definitely a positive experience. I myself had come merely to experience the torch relay, not to make a political statement, so I enjoyed being a part of the event. I also learned what it's like to be shouted at by a large group of impassioned people, and, well, it's really scary. But it also makes me think about nationalism and how political opinions are formed. Also, witnessing a mass of people who have all come together for one reason and who care enough to drape themselves with flags, coordinate t-shirts, and paint their faces leaves a deep impression. Banners, cheering, chanting - it's hard not to get swept up in the enthusiasm. It's always a meaningful experience to see how people act, in both positive and negative ways, when they're passionate about something.
Since I had to come back to Hwasun to teach on Monday, I only went to see the torch at its starting point in Seoul, which was at the Olympic Park. I had mixed feelings about coming to see the torch - on one hand, this was a unique opportunity to be a part of the Olympics, which I think in general is a very positive event. On the other hand, I don't agree with China's policies in Tibet and Darfur. While I consider the China's Olympic games to be separate from China's government, I understand where the protesters around the world are coming from and think what they're doing is important. The more attention given to these issues, the better. So I felt a little guilty about attending the rally as merely a spectator, not a protester.
One of the girls I met up with in Seoul did, however, come with a "Free Tibet" sign, and was as far as I could tell the only one aside from a small group of protesters a few hundred meters down from us (more protesters showed up for other parts of the Seoul relay leg). At the park, we found a spot with a good view and waited for things to begin. The girl with the sign held it quietly, not saying or doing anything in particular. But we still managed to draw the ire of a group of Chinese supporters. It started as a small group, who told us that Tibet is and always has been a part of China; that it's already free. Then they started chanting "One China!" in loud voices, eventually drawing in more and more people until we were basically being shouted at by a huge sea of red and white. Eventually they stopped, after the girl with the sign stepped away from the area we were standing for a little while, so things wouldn't escalate too much. Since we had already attracted attention though, we got periodic visits from people taking photographs and holding their own signs up for us.
I have to make a comment about some of the signs I saw, because they really bothered me. On one side they would say, for example, "We want peace, we want one China." Generally a positive statement. On the other side, however, they would say things like, "Independence, no way, no way" or "We love Tibet because it's a part of China" - implying that Tibet as a separate entity wouldn't warrant their consideration or respect. If you're going to claim to promote peace, don't follow it up with a harsh political statement ("independence, no way") that in the end only feeds the violence.
Seeing the torch in Seoul was definitely a positive experience. I myself had come merely to experience the torch relay, not to make a political statement, so I enjoyed being a part of the event. I also learned what it's like to be shouted at by a large group of impassioned people, and, well, it's really scary. But it also makes me think about nationalism and how political opinions are formed. Also, witnessing a mass of people who have all come together for one reason and who care enough to drape themselves with flags, coordinate t-shirts, and paint their faces leaves a deep impression. Banners, cheering, chanting - it's hard not to get swept up in the enthusiasm. It's always a meaningful experience to see how people act, in both positive and negative ways, when they're passionate about something.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Foreigner, Model 1.7 - She Even Does the Dishes!
I accomplished a major victory within my homestay today. I washed the dishes with actual members of my host family in the house.
As soon as I moved into my homestay, it became clear to me that I was not expected to do any household chores beyond keeping my room relatively neat. Furthermore, if I tried to do anything to help out, I was immediately stopped. Even something as small as clearing the dishes from the table after dinner was all but impossible - as soon as I stood up, my family leapt into action, prying the bowls from my hands with horrified expressions and shoving me into the family room to watch television. No dishes, no laundry, nothing.
Now, I know this sounds like most 20-something recent college graduates' dreams come true, but it's actually very frustrating at times. I don't want to be a burden on my family and I want to help out with the things that I should be helping out with. Plus, it's nice to have the independence and sense of control that comes with cleaning one's own living space. Nevertheless, despite frequent efforts on my part, I am still allowed nowhere near the kitchen sink as long as my host mom is watching. And my host mom is a housewife, so she's watching quite a lot.
That's the thing about Korean housewives - or at least the one I live with. The house is absolutely Her Domain, and no one else shall enter Her Space without Her Permission. My host siblings do help out a little, but by and large my host mother is in complete control of Her Domain. I've managed to do small things around the house from time to time, but only when nobody else is home.
Then came my big break. This week my host mom is on a well-deserved vacation to Japan with some of her female friends - although this doesn't mean I was suddenly able to leap into cleaning action. Family friends have been coming over the past few days to take care of the kids, cook dinner, and clean up afterward. Efforts on my part to clear the table were again thwarted.
Today, however, it's just me and the kids. We ordered take-out food and watched a movie on TV. And when we were finished, as my host siblings folded the laundry, I walked over the kitchen sink, put on the rubber gloves, and turned on the water. Mina, the 14-year-old, of course tried to stop me, but I was already rinsing off the first spoon, and I convinced her that cleaning the dishes was no burden to me, and that I was happy to do it.
I doubt my newfound freedom to clean the house will continue once my host mom returns. My family still thinks of me as relatively young and unaccustomed to taking care of myself and my own chores, and I know they worry about life with them being difficult for me. I am grateful, though, that my host mom is getting some well-needed rest and that I was able to give back to the family just once. And who knows -today just might set a precedent for future Sundays home alone with the host kids.
As soon as I moved into my homestay, it became clear to me that I was not expected to do any household chores beyond keeping my room relatively neat. Furthermore, if I tried to do anything to help out, I was immediately stopped. Even something as small as clearing the dishes from the table after dinner was all but impossible - as soon as I stood up, my family leapt into action, prying the bowls from my hands with horrified expressions and shoving me into the family room to watch television. No dishes, no laundry, nothing.
Now, I know this sounds like most 20-something recent college graduates' dreams come true, but it's actually very frustrating at times. I don't want to be a burden on my family and I want to help out with the things that I should be helping out with. Plus, it's nice to have the independence and sense of control that comes with cleaning one's own living space. Nevertheless, despite frequent efforts on my part, I am still allowed nowhere near the kitchen sink as long as my host mom is watching. And my host mom is a housewife, so she's watching quite a lot.
That's the thing about Korean housewives - or at least the one I live with. The house is absolutely Her Domain, and no one else shall enter Her Space without Her Permission. My host siblings do help out a little, but by and large my host mother is in complete control of Her Domain. I've managed to do small things around the house from time to time, but only when nobody else is home.
Then came my big break. This week my host mom is on a well-deserved vacation to Japan with some of her female friends - although this doesn't mean I was suddenly able to leap into cleaning action. Family friends have been coming over the past few days to take care of the kids, cook dinner, and clean up afterward. Efforts on my part to clear the table were again thwarted.
Today, however, it's just me and the kids. We ordered take-out food and watched a movie on TV. And when we were finished, as my host siblings folded the laundry, I walked over the kitchen sink, put on the rubber gloves, and turned on the water. Mina, the 14-year-old, of course tried to stop me, but I was already rinsing off the first spoon, and I convinced her that cleaning the dishes was no burden to me, and that I was happy to do it.
I doubt my newfound freedom to clean the house will continue once my host mom returns. My family still thinks of me as relatively young and unaccustomed to taking care of myself and my own chores, and I know they worry about life with them being difficult for me. I am grateful, though, that my host mom is getting some well-needed rest and that I was able to give back to the family just once. And who knows -today just might set a precedent for future Sundays home alone with the host kids.
Monday, March 24, 2008
A New Title, an Actual Theme (of sorts)
If you're reading this post, and this is not your first time visiting my blog, you'll notice that I've changed things a bit. I have a new (and better) title after changing the word "in" to "versus." That's right, this blog is now Anna vs. Korea. Shocking, if not revolutionary. I changed the title not only because the old one was boring, but also because I think it will allow me to have an actual theme to center my blog around. Writing about...random) stuff in my life here is well and good, but this might be a bit more fun. For me, anyway.
The tagline of the blog is "the struggle for the heart, mind, and sometimes wallet of an American girl living and teaching in Korea." I knew that I would change as a result of coming here, but it's been interesting to see the parts of the culture that have affected me and how, exactly they have affected me. These observations will now be the focus of this blog, although I expect my posts won't change a whole lot. Also, I should say that my new theme is in no way antagonistic towards Korea or Korean culture. I love it here and I have a lot of respect for this country and these people, and I hope that, despite the numerous challenges I face, my respect is reflected in my blog.
Also, soon I'm going to try writing a bit more about pop culture stuff, particularly music and dramas, since this is one of my most important tools in engaging with my students and the general culture here. First up: the song (songs?) that started me down the road of Korean popular music. Hopefully I'll actually start posting about once a week or so, like I said I would do way back in November. We'll see.
The tagline of the blog is "the struggle for the heart, mind, and sometimes wallet of an American girl living and teaching in Korea." I knew that I would change as a result of coming here, but it's been interesting to see the parts of the culture that have affected me and how, exactly they have affected me. These observations will now be the focus of this blog, although I expect my posts won't change a whole lot. Also, I should say that my new theme is in no way antagonistic towards Korea or Korean culture. I love it here and I have a lot of respect for this country and these people, and I hope that, despite the numerous challenges I face, my respect is reflected in my blog.
Also, soon I'm going to try writing a bit more about pop culture stuff, particularly music and dramas, since this is one of my most important tools in engaging with my students and the general culture here. First up: the song (songs?) that started me down the road of Korean popular music. Hopefully I'll actually start posting about once a week or so, like I said I would do way back in November. We'll see.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Congratulations...and celebrations!
I'd say I'm a somewhat rare 23-year-old in that up until this year, I had never spent a birthday completely away from home. Throughout college my birthday always fell right around the beginning of spring break, so even when my birthday was technicaly spent at school I would have a smaller family celebration a few days later. About a month ago, it occurred to me that this year I was completely on my own, away from not only my family but all the people I had grown close to in college. I assumed that I would spend the day quietly, probably have cake with my host family, maybe bring a small treat to school to share with other people. I wasn't really comfortable with the idea of broadcasting my birthday around school.
Well, imagine my surprise when my birthday turned out to be one of my best days in Korea so far, and one of my best birthday ever.
At the beginning of the semester, during my first classes with my new first-grade students, I told them when my birthday was, figuring I could at least wring a couple of "happy birthday"s out of them on the day of. I also told my Conversation Club when we were talking about our favorite parts of spring. So I knew going into school that I had told a fair number of my students, and that some might even remember.
The day started with a box of cookies from one of my new first-graders (an absolutely adorable girl with freckles and huge glasses) and her mother, who happens to be one of the other English teachers at my school. I had a good morning, and a lot of my students wished me happy birthday in the hallways. I love talking with my students, and there's nothing quite like the feeling of being looked up to and appreciated by them. Anyway, so far, it had been a good day and about what I expected.
Then came my daily lunchtime Conversation Club. In the room where we meet and talk everyday, the students had written "Happy Birthday Anna!" on the whiteboard. I shared the Thin Mints my parents had mailed to me (another great birthday surprise!) and just as we were settling down to talk about our topic of the day, they turned off the lights and started the real party, complete with a birthday cake and gift - perhaps the best gift I've ever gotten. All of my Club students, whom I've gotten to know very well over the past seven months, had written letters to me. The letters were perfectly representative of my students - intelligent, funny, incredibly sweet. I seriously almost started crying, because even though I'm still far from a good teacher, I love teaching my kids and hope I've been able to help them, even a little bit. My great day continued the very next period, when I walked into one of my all-girl first-grade classes to a a chorus of "Happy Birthday."
That afternoon I had my second birthday cake of the day with the other teachers at my school. I had brought the cake to share with them, and it was a great chance to chat with some teachers whom I haven't spoken to much due to the language barrier. See, not only do I have awesome and friendly students, but awesome and friendly co-workers, too.
I went home that afternoon and took a much-needed nap, but not before receing gifts from my host sisters - a datebook and a mirror, both heavily adorned with the color pink and an almost illegal levelf cuteness. I love them. After my nap, my host family ordered pizza for - having decided that surely the American needs pizza on her birthday in lieu of the traditional Korean seaweed soup. I also had my third birthday cake of the day (see, if you reach three cakes in one day, you've automatically had a great, if not awesome, birthday.) If my Club students gave me one of the better presents I've ever gotten, my 4-year-old host brother sang me the best version of "Happy Birthday" I've ever heard. He sang the first two lines in English, but he didn't know the rest of the words, so he switched to Korean halfway through. He then, of course, decided that it was his job to blow out all the candles for me, and I was laughing too hard to sneak in and get even one of them myself. The entire scene was adorable and all-around fantastic.
And that is the story of my best birthday ever. It wasn't overblown, but it was sweet and fun, and really reminded me how lucky I am to be surrounded by the people in my life right now. It also reminded me of when I was young and would think about how cool a total surprise party would be. And surprise parties are great - but it's even better, I learned, to make your birthday special yourself. I'm so glad I brought the cake for the teachers to share, because it was me inviting them to share my "important" day with me, and that I told my students about my birthday. That way, we got to have some fun together and make it more than just a boring day at school for everyone involved.
Thanks, Korea. I definitely won't forget my 23rd birthday - even though I'm technically 24 in Korean years. (No, I don't completely understand it either.)
Well, imagine my surprise when my birthday turned out to be one of my best days in Korea so far, and one of my best birthday ever.
At the beginning of the semester, during my first classes with my new first-grade students, I told them when my birthday was, figuring I could at least wring a couple of "happy birthday"s out of them on the day of. I also told my Conversation Club when we were talking about our favorite parts of spring. So I knew going into school that I had told a fair number of my students, and that some might even remember.
The day started with a box of cookies from one of my new first-graders (an absolutely adorable girl with freckles and huge glasses) and her mother, who happens to be one of the other English teachers at my school. I had a good morning, and a lot of my students wished me happy birthday in the hallways. I love talking with my students, and there's nothing quite like the feeling of being looked up to and appreciated by them. Anyway, so far, it had been a good day and about what I expected.
Then came my daily lunchtime Conversation Club. In the room where we meet and talk everyday, the students had written "Happy Birthday Anna!" on the whiteboard. I shared the Thin Mints my parents had mailed to me (another great birthday surprise!) and just as we were settling down to talk about our topic of the day, they turned off the lights and started the real party, complete with a birthday cake and gift - perhaps the best gift I've ever gotten. All of my Club students, whom I've gotten to know very well over the past seven months, had written letters to me. The letters were perfectly representative of my students - intelligent, funny, incredibly sweet. I seriously almost started crying, because even though I'm still far from a good teacher, I love teaching my kids and hope I've been able to help them, even a little bit. My great day continued the very next period, when I walked into one of my all-girl first-grade classes to a a chorus of "Happy Birthday."
That afternoon I had my second birthday cake of the day with the other teachers at my school. I had brought the cake to share with them, and it was a great chance to chat with some teachers whom I haven't spoken to much due to the language barrier. See, not only do I have awesome and friendly students, but awesome and friendly co-workers, too.
I went home that afternoon and took a much-needed nap, but not before receing gifts from my host sisters - a datebook and a mirror, both heavily adorned with the color pink and an almost illegal levelf cuteness. I love them. After my nap, my host family ordered pizza for - having decided that surely the American needs pizza on her birthday in lieu of the traditional Korean seaweed soup. I also had my third birthday cake of the day (see, if you reach three cakes in one day, you've automatically had a great, if not awesome, birthday.) If my Club students gave me one of the better presents I've ever gotten, my 4-year-old host brother sang me the best version of "Happy Birthday" I've ever heard. He sang the first two lines in English, but he didn't know the rest of the words, so he switched to Korean halfway through. He then, of course, decided that it was his job to blow out all the candles for me, and I was laughing too hard to sneak in and get even one of them myself. The entire scene was adorable and all-around fantastic.
And that is the story of my best birthday ever. It wasn't overblown, but it was sweet and fun, and really reminded me how lucky I am to be surrounded by the people in my life right now. It also reminded me of when I was young and would think about how cool a total surprise party would be. And surprise parties are great - but it's even better, I learned, to make your birthday special yourself. I'm so glad I brought the cake for the teachers to share, because it was me inviting them to share my "important" day with me, and that I told my students about my birthday. That way, we got to have some fun together and make it more than just a boring day at school for everyone involved.
Thanks, Korea. I definitely won't forget my 23rd birthday - even though I'm technically 24 in Korean years. (No, I don't completely understand it either.)
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Body Image in Korea (Part 2)
I returned to my school today for the first time since December 22, my last day of classes for the fall semester. I still don't start teaching for another week, but it was nice to see all of the teachers again. Most of them greeted me with a "nice to see you" or a "long time no see." One of the female teachers, though, was kind enough to go a step further and tell me that I was looking "more beautiful" than before.
I suppose I can take that as a compliment on my favorite sweater, which I was wearing, or my new-ish haircut, which is basically just longer with some shorter bang-like sections in the front. However, I also was not wearing any make-up and had gained just a little weight from overindulging on Korean food upon my return from Cambodia.
...so damn, if I'm looking more beautiful now, than what the heck did I look like in December? Sometimes I think certain aspects of Korean culture have been developed specifically to mess with foreigners' minds.
I suppose I can take that as a compliment on my favorite sweater, which I was wearing, or my new-ish haircut, which is basically just longer with some shorter bang-like sections in the front. However, I also was not wearing any make-up and had gained just a little weight from overindulging on Korean food upon my return from Cambodia.
...so damn, if I'm looking more beautiful now, than what the heck did I look like in December? Sometimes I think certain aspects of Korean culture have been developed specifically to mess with foreigners' minds.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Tourism and Traveling
I hate the word tourist. I seriously have a near-unnatural dislike of that word and everything that it implies. When I think of tourists, I think of baseball caps, money belts, and worst of all, backpacks worn across the front. I think of crowds dressed in matching polo shirts squinting in confusion at subway maps and Americans speaking in loud, shrill voices at confused hotel employees and sale clerks. I think of people who proudly claim to have traveled to a country because they walked through the airport that one time and look, check out my passport stamp!
I hate more than just the word tourist. I tend to hate tourists themselves. Which can be problematic as I, myself, am often a tourist.
Usually I do everything I can to avoid being classified under this category. I was a student in London and needed to entertain myself , so I went to a lot of museums. When I wandered around New York, I was just filling time after my job interviews. I'm not a tourist when I go to new cities in Korea, I'm just a teacher living in Korea and trying to see more of the country. And in Cambodia, where I just returned from, I was so turned off the notion of being a tourist that I actually referred to myself once as a "traveler."
If you don't get how ridiculous this claim was, let's review the facts: I was on a group tour, I was only traveling for about 15 days, I had pre-arranged flights to and from the region, I saw many famous, important sights in very few days, I took a ton of pictures of said sights, and I bought several souvenirs - including postcards.
Nice try, Anna, but that's about as touristy as you can get without wearing a tan steel-strap-reinforced money belt around your neck.
A traveler is, in my mind, far more independent than a tourist such as me. They are not likely to join group tours, they travel at a leisurely pace, taking however much time they want wherever they go, and therefore they leave whenever they feel like it. I imagine souvenirs are bought far less than the necessities that spring up along the way. Travelers are the people who decide they would like to see Southeast Asia, get on a plane the next week, and find their way around on public buses and guesswork and charm for however many months or even years they feel like. They may have some general plans about where they go and what they do, but these plans are quite flexible. They may have a date they have to return to their home, probably to return to work, but everything before that very day is just time they have to fill however they please.
Sorry for waxing romantic there about the life of a traveler as I see it, which I'm pretty much making up as I write this (I don't think I could ever be classified as one myself) - hence the romanticism. But as soon as I told some of the other people on the tour that I'd rather consider myself a traveler than a tourist, I realized just how silly that was.
So I've finally given myself the necessary kick in the skull and accepted my identity as a tourist. What now? The fact is, "tourist" is a very general term, and refers to so many different people at so many different times that, thankfully, not all tourists need to don the steel-enforced money belt. As much as I may wish I was the wanderer/traveler type, I'm not. But I can at least be a good tourist.
I think the breakdown between good and bad tourists is simple. I think most good tourists try to support hotels, restaurants, and businesses that send money to the people who deserve/need it. This is especially a problem in countries with corrupt governments like Cambodia. Just buy any decent travel guide - they usually include recommendations of places that are locally-owned or give a portion of the profits to charity. Good tourists also learn a little of the language. Knowing "hello" "thank you" and maybe “where is such-and-such” can get you a little appreciation and respect from locals. And it REALLY helps to have a good sense of humor and a calm disposition. If you get stressed or aggravated, you'll take it out on people who are trying to help you and leave them with a bad impression of you and other tourists. Plus, it makes the whole experience of traveling a lot more fun if you're, you know, actually in a good mood.
Unfortunately, there's another dimension one can classify tourists by, and that's how annoying they are. That's where all that polo shirt/steel-reinforced money belt/squinting at a subway map stuff comes into play. Such tourists can be, and I'm sure often are, good tourists - but that doesn't make them any less screamingly obvious. I try to avoid being the annoying tourist in addition to the bad tourist. I study the map before I leave the hotel and I carry only small amounts of money in my front pocket. This is all really a matter of personal preference - I just like looking as natural and confident as possible in unfamiliar settings (although it's not as if I don't stand out here in Asia).
Anyway, the moral of the story is that I traveled to Southeast Asia wishing fervently I was a traveler but of course being a total tourist anyway. Thus, in acceptance of my tourist status, I tried to be the best and least annoying tourist I could. Pictures will be up soon.
I hate more than just the word tourist. I tend to hate tourists themselves. Which can be problematic as I, myself, am often a tourist.
Usually I do everything I can to avoid being classified under this category. I was a student in London and needed to entertain myself , so I went to a lot of museums. When I wandered around New York, I was just filling time after my job interviews. I'm not a tourist when I go to new cities in Korea, I'm just a teacher living in Korea and trying to see more of the country. And in Cambodia, where I just returned from, I was so turned off the notion of being a tourist that I actually referred to myself once as a "traveler."
If you don't get how ridiculous this claim was, let's review the facts: I was on a group tour, I was only traveling for about 15 days, I had pre-arranged flights to and from the region, I saw many famous, important sights in very few days, I took a ton of pictures of said sights, and I bought several souvenirs - including postcards.
Nice try, Anna, but that's about as touristy as you can get without wearing a tan steel-strap-reinforced money belt around your neck.
A traveler is, in my mind, far more independent than a tourist such as me. They are not likely to join group tours, they travel at a leisurely pace, taking however much time they want wherever they go, and therefore they leave whenever they feel like it. I imagine souvenirs are bought far less than the necessities that spring up along the way. Travelers are the people who decide they would like to see Southeast Asia, get on a plane the next week, and find their way around on public buses and guesswork and charm for however many months or even years they feel like. They may have some general plans about where they go and what they do, but these plans are quite flexible. They may have a date they have to return to their home, probably to return to work, but everything before that very day is just time they have to fill however they please.
Sorry for waxing romantic there about the life of a traveler as I see it, which I'm pretty much making up as I write this (I don't think I could ever be classified as one myself) - hence the romanticism. But as soon as I told some of the other people on the tour that I'd rather consider myself a traveler than a tourist, I realized just how silly that was.
So I've finally given myself the necessary kick in the skull and accepted my identity as a tourist. What now? The fact is, "tourist" is a very general term, and refers to so many different people at so many different times that, thankfully, not all tourists need to don the steel-enforced money belt. As much as I may wish I was the wanderer/traveler type, I'm not. But I can at least be a good tourist.
I think the breakdown between good and bad tourists is simple. I think most good tourists try to support hotels, restaurants, and businesses that send money to the people who deserve/need it. This is especially a problem in countries with corrupt governments like Cambodia. Just buy any decent travel guide - they usually include recommendations of places that are locally-owned or give a portion of the profits to charity. Good tourists also learn a little of the language. Knowing "hello" "thank you" and maybe “where is such-and-such” can get you a little appreciation and respect from locals. And it REALLY helps to have a good sense of humor and a calm disposition. If you get stressed or aggravated, you'll take it out on people who are trying to help you and leave them with a bad impression of you and other tourists. Plus, it makes the whole experience of traveling a lot more fun if you're, you know, actually in a good mood.
Unfortunately, there's another dimension one can classify tourists by, and that's how annoying they are. That's where all that polo shirt/steel-reinforced money belt/squinting at a subway map stuff comes into play. Such tourists can be, and I'm sure often are, good tourists - but that doesn't make them any less screamingly obvious. I try to avoid being the annoying tourist in addition to the bad tourist. I study the map before I leave the hotel and I carry only small amounts of money in my front pocket. This is all really a matter of personal preference - I just like looking as natural and confident as possible in unfamiliar settings (although it's not as if I don't stand out here in Asia).
Anyway, the moral of the story is that I traveled to Southeast Asia wishing fervently I was a traveler but of course being a total tourist anyway. Thus, in acceptance of my tourist status, I tried to be the best and least annoying tourist I could. Pictures will be up soon.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
KKOOM Holiday Party in Gumi
One of the things I wanted to do while in Korea was volunteer at an orphanage. To be honest, I have not done this yet in Hwasun, due to the time I've been spending teaching, traveling, and doing taekwondo (although I'd like to change that this semester). But many other English teachers have done worked at orphanages, including many of those who have lived and taught in Gumi in the last few years.
Gumi is a small town in the Gyeongsangbuk province in central Korea - I would guess around 100,000 people live there. As I said, a number of the teachers in Gumi, both present and former, have volunteered at the orphanage there, Samsungwon. Some of the former volunteers, all of whom are now back in the United States, started a nonprofit called "KKOOM" ("dream," 꿈, in Korean) to help out the kids of Samsungwon. And so last December, I had the opportunity to go to Gumi for the holiday party KKOOM was putting together for the kids. I had a wonderful time.
The kids at Samsungwon were of all ages - anywhere from babies to high school students. Kids are not adopted from Samsungwon, so they only leave if their birth parents return for them. When I started interacting with the kids, and I was immediately struck by how much love there was at the orphanage. The kids were all organized into "houses" of about 10 kids, and the houses were clearly very close-knit. Each house had a "mother" who cared for the very young children, and the older kids clearly took care of the younger kids in their house. I think a lot of the kids at Samsungwon were probably better off than those living with abusive or uncaring parents, anywhere in the world. Now, not all orphanages in Korea are the same (of course), so these statements are really only applicable to Samsungwon. But clearly, although Samsungwon is not very wealthy, many of the children there seemed well-loved and content - which is the most important thing.
At the holiday party, I manned the arts and crafts area, where kids made Christmas ornamants, cards, bags, and paper airplanes. Let me tell you, little children will go crazy if you give them enough stickers and glitter. They also made origami, which would be mailed by KKOOM back to the party's donors. Later in the day, I got to judge a gingerbread house contest, and then each child received a gift put together by an American donor. We also cooked them dinner and the breakfast the next morning.
I'm so glad that I got to go to Gumi and work with these kids. They were so sweet, and so much fun to be around, and as I said, it was touching to see the amount of love there at Samsungwon. Without a doubt, the experience was one of my most meaningful so far in Korea.
If you want to learn more about KKOOM, check out http://www.kkoom.org/. There's information about the organization, about Samsungwon, and some pictures from the Christmas party. There's also an 8-minute video, which I've posted below.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Life Is Still Funny
In my last post I mentioned many of the more humorous encounters and English foibles that I've come across. I really think I should mention one more though; one I was just reminded of today at a ski resort with the host fam.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the ultimate winner of I do not think that word means what you think it means (English version): "Throb."
My host sister asked me today if, because of skiing, I was "throb." And no, she didn't mean it in the painful way. But this was not the first time this word has been used. One of my best girls also used the word in a paragraph she wrote, talking about how the letter she wrote to my high school makes her throb, and I've had several other students use it similarly.
I'm not quite sure what the Korean word is that they're trying to communicate to me, although I'm pretty sure it means something along the lines of the heart beating faster. Which is an excellent feeling to try to communicate is a foreign language. Nevertheless, I think someone needs to write a letter to some of the dictionary companies and expain the nuances of the word "throb."
Don't you worry, I'll get my comeuppance for all my inner, adolescent giggling at such mistakes. My Korean still isn't great, but I try to communicate as much as possible. Given these conditions it's only a matter of time - if that time hasn't come already without my knowledge - until I utter the the Korean I-do-not-think-that- word-means-what-you-think-it-means equivalent of throb.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the ultimate winner of I do not think that word means what you think it means (English version): "Throb."
My host sister asked me today if, because of skiing, I was "throb." And no, she didn't mean it in the painful way. But this was not the first time this word has been used. One of my best girls also used the word in a paragraph she wrote, talking about how the letter she wrote to my high school makes her throb, and I've had several other students use it similarly.
I'm not quite sure what the Korean word is that they're trying to communicate to me, although I'm pretty sure it means something along the lines of the heart beating faster. Which is an excellent feeling to try to communicate is a foreign language. Nevertheless, I think someone needs to write a letter to some of the dictionary companies and expain the nuances of the word "throb."
Don't you worry, I'll get my comeuppance for all my inner, adolescent giggling at such mistakes. My Korean still isn't great, but I try to communicate as much as possible. Given these conditions it's only a matter of time - if that time hasn't come already without my knowledge - until I utter the the Korean I-do-not-think-that- word-means-what-you-think-it-means equivalent of throb.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Life on the English Teaching Front: My Job is Hilarious
Warning: This post contains some stories that are not entirely...appropriate. Sorry, Mom and Dad.
This post is really more like a bunch of mini-blogs I've thought about writing up this semester, but always decided against it because they just weren't long enough. But by now I've collected multiple funny stories from my first semester living and teaching in Korea, and I think they provide a good window into my life here - namely, the awkwardness and uncertainty of it all. If nothing else, this stuff keeps me entertained, so perhaps it will entertain some of you as well.
I am boring and hard
In Korean, "재미 없어요" (chemi obsoyo) can be used to mean both boring and bored. So before Korean students learn the difference between bored and boring, which is not very easy to explain, they really only know the word boring. When I go out with my host family, my host sister Mina likes to make sure I'm enjoying myself, so she often asks me, "Anna, are you boring?"
"What? Why, do you think...oh. Oh, no Mina, I'm not bored."
Sometime early this semester, Mina also learned hard, and apparently learned that it can refer to things like a person's day as well as things like tests. So now I also get asked, "Anna, are you hard?"
I think I did, like a triple-take the first time she said this.
I make an effort to answer correctly - "No, this is not hard" - and hope that she picks up on the different structure I'm using. She hasn't yet, even though I've tried explaining it a few times (really, I'm much better suited to teaching advanced students).
I do not think that word means what you think it means
Every now and then, hard-working students, eager to test out new vocab, will use a word they naturally don't quite understand. In all honesty, sometimes they've never even said the words out loud before. Furthermore, some words are just generally misused. A few weeks ago I did an activity where my students had to agree or disagree with the statement "Women are smarter than men." Several students explained that yes, women are smarter than men, because they've more delicate. I checked over and over to make sure they didn't mean "dedicated." They didn't. I still don't understand what the word delicate means to them.
What's even more awkward is when the other English teachers start asking questions about vocab. During my first week, my co-teacher drove me to school in the morning. During one such car ride, he asked me to explain the word "sexy" to him. His students use the word a lot, he said, and the ones who have been to America tell him that it's a common phrase.
Well...yes, I suppose so, but...I vaguely explained that it isn't really a word you should go around using a lot. 'But it's a compliment," he persisted. "My students say it's a compliment." I just told him that yes, it means attractive, but you should definitely not just say to it a random person on the street, or anyone other than your significant other. Man, I was glad when that car ride was over.
Who the heck writes these textbooks?
The other day one of the other English teachers showed me a page from one of her textbooks that had a list of "common," "new" slang expressions. Very briefly: Frankenfood (genetically-modified superfood), Dead Presidents (money, but it took me a while to figure that one out), and crunk (crazy drunk). Yep, all phrases I feel comfortable using in my daily life. I love imagining my super-sweet boys traveling to America in a few years, when they're of age, and telling the people they meet there that they "wanna get CRUNKED!"
Why I am entirely too young to teach high school
Really, I think people should have at least a few years out of college before they teach high schoolers. Especially if they have a more laid-back teaching style, like I do. Case in point: class 2-4. Oh, class 2-4...Class 2-4 is full of boys who are a very loud and energetic, but genuinely sweet people (they don't terrorize me like my first-grade boys try to) and also really funny (as opposed to the boys who just THINK they're funny). Anyway, these guys are always a lot of fun to be around, and I was looking forward to their responses when I did an activity on expressing opinions.
First topic up: "Women are smarter than men." It always gets some interesting opinions from the kids, plus it's fun for the ones who just want to brown-nose the teacher. One of the boys said he disagreed with the statement, and I was excited he had volunteered, because he isn't one of the strongest speakers. He paused for a moment, then looked at me with a smile on his face, and man, I knew something was coming...
"God give men brain, God give women chest."
I didn't want to laugh. I didn't want to look embarrassed. I wanted to be a strict teacher in this instance, because really, that's not an appropriate thing to say in the classroom, even in a more relaxed class. But the way that kid I was looking at me...I couldn't help it. My face turned bright red as the rest of the class cracked up. I quickly moved on to another student.
Next topic: "Military service for men should be optional." Another boy disagrees with this statement. He goes on and on about how military service makes you strong, and about how it's important for men to be strong. And why do men need to be strong, you ask? "Men need to be powerful to make babies."
Oh. My. I had promised myself I wouldn't let another inappropriate comment slide. But I didn't know that's where he was going - I had no idea he was going to say something like that. Again, I really didn't want to laugh!...but I did. And then my face turned an even brighter shade of scarlet, something my boys were only too happy to point out to me. I tried to regain control, finishing up the activity, telling them that was inappropriate, and moving on like it didn't happen. As one student told me, "I'm sorry, we're teenage boys."
Yes, yes you are. And I adore my students, but I'm beginning to think that one needs to be at least ten years older than the kids you teach. Especially when those students are teenage boys and you're a female teacher.
Teaching English in a foreign country is never dull, that's for sure. I can't wait to see what next semester has in store for me.
This post is really more like a bunch of mini-blogs I've thought about writing up this semester, but always decided against it because they just weren't long enough. But by now I've collected multiple funny stories from my first semester living and teaching in Korea, and I think they provide a good window into my life here - namely, the awkwardness and uncertainty of it all. If nothing else, this stuff keeps me entertained, so perhaps it will entertain some of you as well.
I am boring and hard
In Korean, "재미 없어요" (chemi obsoyo) can be used to mean both boring and bored. So before Korean students learn the difference between bored and boring, which is not very easy to explain, they really only know the word boring. When I go out with my host family, my host sister Mina likes to make sure I'm enjoying myself, so she often asks me, "Anna, are you boring?"
"What? Why, do you think...oh. Oh, no Mina, I'm not bored."
Sometime early this semester, Mina also learned hard, and apparently learned that it can refer to things like a person's day as well as things like tests. So now I also get asked, "Anna, are you hard?"
I think I did, like a triple-take the first time she said this.
I make an effort to answer correctly - "No, this is not hard" - and hope that she picks up on the different structure I'm using. She hasn't yet, even though I've tried explaining it a few times (really, I'm much better suited to teaching advanced students).
I do not think that word means what you think it means
Every now and then, hard-working students, eager to test out new vocab, will use a word they naturally don't quite understand. In all honesty, sometimes they've never even said the words out loud before. Furthermore, some words are just generally misused. A few weeks ago I did an activity where my students had to agree or disagree with the statement "Women are smarter than men." Several students explained that yes, women are smarter than men, because they've more delicate. I checked over and over to make sure they didn't mean "dedicated." They didn't. I still don't understand what the word delicate means to them.
What's even more awkward is when the other English teachers start asking questions about vocab. During my first week, my co-teacher drove me to school in the morning. During one such car ride, he asked me to explain the word "sexy" to him. His students use the word a lot, he said, and the ones who have been to America tell him that it's a common phrase.
Well...yes, I suppose so, but...I vaguely explained that it isn't really a word you should go around using a lot. 'But it's a compliment," he persisted. "My students say it's a compliment." I just told him that yes, it means attractive, but you should definitely not just say to it a random person on the street, or anyone other than your significant other. Man, I was glad when that car ride was over.
Who the heck writes these textbooks?
The other day one of the other English teachers showed me a page from one of her textbooks that had a list of "common," "new" slang expressions. Very briefly: Frankenfood (genetically-modified superfood), Dead Presidents (money, but it took me a while to figure that one out), and crunk (crazy drunk). Yep, all phrases I feel comfortable using in my daily life. I love imagining my super-sweet boys traveling to America in a few years, when they're of age, and telling the people they meet there that they "wanna get CRUNKED!"
Why I am entirely too young to teach high school
Really, I think people should have at least a few years out of college before they teach high schoolers. Especially if they have a more laid-back teaching style, like I do. Case in point: class 2-4. Oh, class 2-4...Class 2-4 is full of boys who are a very loud and energetic, but genuinely sweet people (they don't terrorize me like my first-grade boys try to) and also really funny (as opposed to the boys who just THINK they're funny). Anyway, these guys are always a lot of fun to be around, and I was looking forward to their responses when I did an activity on expressing opinions.
First topic up: "Women are smarter than men." It always gets some interesting opinions from the kids, plus it's fun for the ones who just want to brown-nose the teacher. One of the boys said he disagreed with the statement, and I was excited he had volunteered, because he isn't one of the strongest speakers. He paused for a moment, then looked at me with a smile on his face, and man, I knew something was coming...
"God give men brain, God give women chest."
I didn't want to laugh. I didn't want to look embarrassed. I wanted to be a strict teacher in this instance, because really, that's not an appropriate thing to say in the classroom, even in a more relaxed class. But the way that kid I was looking at me...I couldn't help it. My face turned bright red as the rest of the class cracked up. I quickly moved on to another student.
Next topic: "Military service for men should be optional." Another boy disagrees with this statement. He goes on and on about how military service makes you strong, and about how it's important for men to be strong. And why do men need to be strong, you ask? "Men need to be powerful to make babies."
Oh. My. I had promised myself I wouldn't let another inappropriate comment slide. But I didn't know that's where he was going - I had no idea he was going to say something like that. Again, I really didn't want to laugh!...but I did. And then my face turned an even brighter shade of scarlet, something my boys were only too happy to point out to me. I tried to regain control, finishing up the activity, telling them that was inappropriate, and moving on like it didn't happen. As one student told me, "I'm sorry, we're teenage boys."
Yes, yes you are. And I adore my students, but I'm beginning to think that one needs to be at least ten years older than the kids you teach. Especially when those students are teenage boys and you're a female teacher.
Teaching English in a foreign country is never dull, that's for sure. I can't wait to see what next semester has in store for me.
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