Sunday, November 25, 2012

I Feel a Little Exposed


You pass through places,
And places pass through you,
But you carry them with you
On the soles of your traveling shoes.

The following are in progress...



Pencil Sketch

Inked



Strangers in a Strange Land


       Happy belated Thanksgiving America! While you were enjoying your day off from work and stuffing yourself with delicious meal after meal, I was taking an extremely terrible field trip to a once abandoned, now converted school called "Cheese Valley" (don't ask). But no worries because on this continent a couple New Englanders, a few Midwesterners, a Canuck (although her Canadian Thanksgiving was celebrated in October), a Korean, and a Southern boy gathered around a crowded apartment...no, this is not the start to a racist joke; just a few ex-pats fighting off homesickness the best they can over food and drinks for a night. You see, my co-workers and I decided to have our own Thanksgiving feast, pot-luck style, albeit a few days late.
       I was able to showcase my Southern hospitality by hosting Thanksgiving at my place and was joined by my neighbor as she offered up her place as well. Friends slowly trickled in as the main courses were set up at my apartment while my neighbor's became the dessert room. I decided to cook field pea jambalaya, chili (which is the second best thing to eat once the temperatures drop into the 30's behind hog's head cheese over grits), and mashed sweet potatoes with walnuts and marshmallows for dessert. Others brought rotisserie chickens, sauteed veggies, deviled eggs, corn and broccoli, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, rolls, and chips and salsa (I know some of that sounds commonplace but you wouldn't take things like bread and chips for granted if you moved here and realized they hardly exist). We also had angel food cake, pumpkin pie, fruit, baked apples and wine, Korean beer, and soju.
      All things considered, it was a really great time despite the immense hurdle of finding food that reminded us of home, being crammed on the floor of my tiny apartment, and being told many times that Louisiana seems like a foreign country itself because of my storytelling and accent (I still don't think that they believe nutrias and choupiques exist). Anyways, there's something gratifying about making the best out of adverse situations and it seemed that everyone enjoyed themselves.
      In parting, I don't wish anyone to be separated from their family, friends, or loved ones but I do wish that you'd love and appreciate the relationships that you have before it's potentially too late.







Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Dear Readers, I Apologize

Warning: The following entry may offend or disgust some readers. Proceed with caution.

      So the Fugu, or blow fish, didn't kill me. Am I stronger for it? I don't know...probably not. But in keeping with cuisine-themed entries, I'll discuss my latest and (not so) greatest adventure. Imagine an extremely small restaurant. Actually, restaurant isn't the right word...how about this, a small room attached to the kitchen of a Korean woman's apartment. There are only four tables, and in typical Korean fashion I take my shoes off at the door and sit cross-legged on the floor. I'm the only one there. I point to a picture of what appears to be grilled strips of meat on a bed of vegetable but the lady shakes her head in disagreement. She points to a bowl of soup but I really want the grilled meat. I reluctantly agree to the soup and begin to enjoy my many side dishes. I'm soon greeted by a scalding hot bowl of soup which I know better than to taste just yet. As I stir it gently and wait for it to cool, the Korean woman surprises me with a small plate of meat chunks on shards of broken bones. I suppose she could tell that I really wanted to try it and for her kindness, I was grateful. That feeling was soon short lived however. You see, I forgot to tell you that I was dining at a restaurant which only serves one thing...dog.


      I knew coming over here that I was going to try dog meat. When would this opportunity arise again? Might as well live in the moment. And I've eaten my fair share of odd animals. Things that Southerners don't necessarily consider strange but could be peculiar to the rest of the world such as turtle soup, fried frogs, raccoon gumbo, grilled oysters, alligator sauce picante, squirrel jambalaya, and fried garfish patties come to mind. I've even got friends from back home that won't eat some of those staples. And then in my brief worldly travels I've been able to sample horse steak, crocodile burgers, raw beef, antelope, ostrich, gazelle, and kangaroo steak. I've yet to bat an eyelash at the idea of experiencing any and all different foods. I honestly thought it'd be the same for dog.
      The bowl of soup didn't seem weird to me. Perhaps because the chunks of dog meat were mixed into a spicy broth with a hearty amount of vegetables. Everything changed once I was brought the plate of dog on the bone. There were several short bones, clearly having been broken, laid across some green onions with chunks of meat dangling from them. Dog meat is a perfectly disgusting blend of mushy fat surrounded by slimy cartilage. It has the look and smell of raw pig fat (I was reminded of the pork that my father uses in hog's head cheese before it is ground up) and is served pink and under cooked. At best, I can describe the taste as fatty, dark meat chicken mixed with gristly beef.



      For the first time, I experienced a hesitation while eating food. Guilt maybe? My conscience kicking in? I don't exactly know but it was very unsettling. I think the moment that really did it for me was when I realized that I was gnawing on the chopped up leg bones of a dog, eating scraps of meat and marrow as if I were a dog myself. It had a very cannibalistic feel to it. So after reading that I ask, "Would you like to try dog?" Me neither. But in one month I'll be visited by my brother Brandon and our friend Quentin so I'm going to assume that I'll be sitting cross-legged in a Korean woman's kitchen over a hot plate of dog one more time.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

That Which Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger?


      I've said it before and I'll say it again, one of the better aspects of Korea is the food. You wouldn't believe the variety, presentation, and flavors you can encounter. My recent lunch was the delicacy known as Fugu, or Japanese puffer fish. Fish is fish, right? Not this time. According to medical toxicity reports, "Fugu contains lethal amounts of the poison tetrodotoxin in its organs, especially the liver, the ovaries, and the skin. The poison, a sodium channel blocker, paralyzes the muscles while the victim stays fully conscious. The victim is unable to breathe, and eventually dies from asphyxiation. There is no known antidote." So this was no ordinary lunch, this was a delicious stare down between the Grim Reaper and myself.
     When ordering, I opted to go with a heaping serving of numerous fish boiled in a stew of greens, mushrooms and sprouts. The fish was left on the bone with its vivid yellow, green, and blue skin intact. While at the dining table I tried recalling which part of the puffer fish contained the insidious poison. Was it the bones? The organs? The skin? I spent what felt like an hour before that first bite attempting to remember then realizing that I had no idea; none what-so-ever. So in a hasty panic I did the only thing that I came to mind...I ate it.  All of it.  Every last bite. I have a hard time turning down food, I hate wasting it, and frankly, I was starving by this point. Of course once I got started I was caught up in the taste and had to finish.



      Now the looming question is how long before the poison kills me? Hopefully my chef knew what he was doing and wasn't having an off day. By the time you read this I could be undergoing seizures, paralyzed, or deceased. If my next entry doesn't come soon, you may as well assume the worst. Feel free to comment though, I might be paralyze but we've established that I'll remain conscious and able to read any epitaphs written in my honor. At least it was a unique and savory meal to go out on.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Things I May or May Not Like About Korea


       I'm uncertain as to where this entry will be filed in the new "Things I Like/Dislike About Korea" series. It all depends on how things transpire from this point forward which begs the question, does "all's well that ends well" hold any validity? I've been battling an illness for almost two weeks now. The post-nasal drip, coughing, runny and stuffy nose, and an unbearably sore throat has got me thinking it's Strep or maybe tonsillitis and it's time that I get them remove. Either one should be fun to deal with in a Korean hospital, right?! After spending the past two weeks attempting a natural solution by consuming my body weight in green tea and oranges and seeing no improvement, I decided to expedite the process with the help of modern Korean medicine. Going to the doctor over here is as stress and hassle free as I've ever experienced. I walked into the doctor's office without an appointment and was attended to immediately. I was asked about my insurance card, which I don't carry on me because it's a ridiculously large piece of cardboard, and was taken anyways. The doctor quickly checked me out, diagnosed me with acute bronchitis and sinusitis, and asked if I wanted a shot. "Sure!  Why not?!" and I was also written a prescription. Upon leaving, I was charged the equivalent of $3.50...without proof of insurance. I walked to the pharmacy, again no insurance, and received nine liquid packs as well as nine packs of pills to take three times a day...for the whopping cost of $4.
      So why or how could this possibly be listed under "Things I Dislike About Korea"? Well, it was this particular doctor who saw one of my coworkers two weeks ago and diagnosed her with the same thing. Turns out she had pneumonia and had to spend 7 days in the hospital. And just yesterday another coworker walked to his office and, sure enough, she has the same thing as well. So maybe I'm doomed. Maybe I'll end up in a hospital room with a bunch of elderly and sickly Koreans for a week. Maybe you'll never hear from me again cause I took an injection of who-knows-what in my butt. Or maybe the third time's a charm for this doctor; he'll finally be correct and I'll finally get better. It is then that I will classify this entry under "Things I Like About Korea."

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Things I Dislike About Korea - Part I


      The good news is that this new, continual installment titled “The Things I Like/Dislike about Korea” will normally be a light-hearted, satirical insight into my daily life. The bad new is that this first entry won't be light-hearted at all.
      A few days ago, every Korean high-schooler in grade 3 (the equivalent of a Junior/Senior) had to take the College Scholastic Aptitude Test (CSAT) as their college entrance exam. This exam is insanely stressful and is weighted so heavily that it potentially determines the rest of each young Korean's life. Their final year of high school is solely spent focusing on taking this one test but preparation usually begins in middle school. After attending public school during the day, students will attend private tutors or hagwons until 11 or 12 at night for extra practice. They'll go home to do homework, catch a few hours of sleep, and then repeat...every day for an entire year (remember, school is year round here).
      As for the test day itself, I've never experienced such a quiet morning. The usual soundtrack to Korea consists of clamoring people, car horns, and trucks with speakers driving around announcing what they have to sell you. Not this particular morning. The schools were crowded with Grade 1 and 2 high-school students before the sun rose to cheer on the test takers, businesses delayed opening to keep people off of the roads, and 'no fly overs' were issued to all aircraft within earshot of the schools. Mothers formed prayer circles for the duration of the test – from 8 in the morning until 4 in the afternoon and the police were there, on standby, the entire time. Sounds extreme, right? It gets more ridiculous. Students must bring their own lunch; the cafeteria will not serve food for fear that they will be blamed if a student becomes ill and does poorly. Within the classroom, supervising teachers are not allowed to walk around because their movements could be a distraction to the students. No one is allowed to wear perfume or cologne on this day as it too, may be a distraction.
      So why am I telling you all of this? Is it the test that I dislike? How would I know? I've never taken it. Here's the part that I take issue with...child suicide rates skyrocket during high-school. Especially directly before and after the CSAT. The societal pressure is so intense that the - and I know it is horrible to say this - “accepted” out is to take one's own life. Korea has the highest suicide rate amongst the world’s 30 Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) countries. In a 2010 government report, suicide was cited as the number one cause of death for those under 40. Presently, 35 Koreans a day, on average, are killing themselves. More specifically in 2011, almost one child (under 18) per day committed suicide. Last year, 359 documented cases of youths in this country took their life and the overall suicide rate in Korea is now more than twice as high as in the United States.
      There are a number of good things one can say about the Korean education system and why the students excel in everything. They're way above the international averages in all subject matter...but at what cost?

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

A White Paint Pen and a Window


      Tomorrow we have clients prospective parents coming visit our business that wants to take their money school and it's truly amazing how we are putting on airs for these people. Oh private schools!  This is so familiar.  Tonight there was pure pandemonium in an attempt to decorate the entire school. The Korean teachers found out that I was supposedly an artist so I was given a white paint pen and a window. This is what happened...



Sunday, November 4, 2012

The Quiet Things That No One Ever Sees


      Somewhere along the lines of my life, I lost myself. Well, not all of myself but bits and pieces. And this hasn't happened just once. Multiple pieces, multiple times.
      I used to be an artist. Now that I think about it, maybe I wasn't. Sure, I created artwork but that doesn't make an artist. Here me out...according to my artistic resume, I haven't shown any work since 2007. Even prior to, I may not have been an artist. Everything I'd worked on was in response to an assignment. An artist – no, a robot – possibly. And what happened when I had the chance to make work on my own? I stopped. Any possibility I had of proving myself became as absent as any recent year on my resume. Michael Crespo must be turning over in his grave in disappointment as his last words to me were "at least with you teaching art, you'll be able to continue creating it." I really messed up.
      So here's where I right the ass-backwards ship that I am (don't worry, there are other examples of my ass-backwardsness that I'll inform you of in future entries). While taking a lazy stroll through the arboretum near my apartment, I stumbled upon an art competition. Though it was only open to school children of varying grade levels, there were some impressive talents in the making. Watercolor was the medium of choice and I spent the afternoon watching in amazement.




      One of the most interesting aspects, to me, of being in the arts is the relationship between artist and sketchbook. This isn't just the cutting room floor for scraps, it's fertile delta soil where ideas germinate, blossom, then flourish. And it goes unseen, unknown. I get it - it's private, personal, raw, vulnerable – but oh so good. I love getting a glimpse at an artist's sketchbook, it gives one such insight as to what's going on at that time, in their life, in their mind. So with that, I'll reveal a few pages from my book. These haven't changed my mind, I still question who and where I am artistically – for they are only doodles. But this is the beginning of what I hope will turn into something. Hopefully more on this in the future, but be patient with me please.