Feeling Small

Yesterday I filmed my bike ride home from school. I thought people might like to see what my neighborhood looks like and how I get to and from work every day. It's a nice ride. I hope it's not too long or dull. If it is click on settings and you can actually increase the playback speed.

On the bike ride home tonight I saw a little toddler running being chased in a crowd by his grandpa. He was giggling and running between the legs of all the people waiting at the crosswalk. It made me miss being that small. But why do I miss being small? It's so easy to get lost when you are small. I remember finding the feeling of being lost and away from everyone exhilarating. It was a horribly bad habit of mine to wander away at the store almost every time I went. It's easier to hide too. And when you're that small, the world looks bigger. Everything towers over you. I remember being bathed on the kitchen counter and looking out the window. I remember having to use a stool to wash my hands in the bathroom. And when you're small, the world is still new. Everything is exciting and you are learning everything for the first time. You cannot help but have a wide-eyed fascination with all that surrounds you.

I wonder if traveling has something to do with being small. When I am truly lost and alone in Korea, it is exhilarating (luckily people tend not to kidnap 6-foot tall dudes). It's harder to hide today than it ever has been, but switching countries is a start. Living away gives me perspective. It lets me begin to see the world as a larger place again. I can begin to imagine all the houses and rivers and oceans and forests and people that are between me and those that I know and care about across the world. The world is a bigger place. And, the world is still new. In Korea, I am still learning many things for the first time and this will continue in Vietnam.

Traveling has made me small again.

One month to go

     I've been holding off on writing for a while, mostly because I have been thinking a lot about what I want to do next. And, to make it brief and for reasons I don't really feel like getting into on the internet, I am leaving for Vietnam at the end of August. The plan is to have a detour in Beijing for a few days before heading to Saigon to look for a job. I have friends there and the opportunity sounds quite grand. I'm sure I will have more to say when I get there, so I don't want to say too much as of now.

     And seeing as I'm still in Korea, however, I'll talk about that for a few minutes before heading to bed. The last few months have been a whirlwind of teaching and travel. This year we have completely revamped the first grade class. Instead of boring TEPS listening comprehension practice, we have been doing a three-pronged approach of reading articles, watching videos, and presenting speeches on topics usually relevant and newsworthy.

I may be missing a few, but here are most of the topics we have studied this year:

1. Dennis Rodman visits North Korea
2. A man that sells parcels of land on the moon
3. "Sugar Man" Rodriguez, the unknown musician from Detroit that impacted a generation in South Africa
4. Anonymous Hacks North Korea
5. "Three Questions" by Leo Tolstoy
6. 3-D printed gun invented and tested
7. Excerpts from "Sum" by David Eagleman about the afterlife
8. Women now allowed in combat in the U.S.
9. Malala Youfsufzai fights for education for girls in Afghanistan
10. Scientists create a bionic eye that allows blind to "see"

The majority of these lessons began by watching a video one or two times and answering questions. After that, we typically read articles and

Over a year. And Namdong Tower.

I have been in Korea for a year and ten days. This last month I have been thinking a lot about my last year. I don't have any wise things to say in my reflection, only that I have been here a year.

Besides this, one of my good friends is leaving within the next month. I have been told that you eventually meet enough people in a place like this that leaving parties are a regular thing. I still haven't gotten there yet.

These event have gotten me thinking a lot too about my next step. Where from here? Korea isn't my plan forever, but I don't have anything firm yet afterwards. Thailand to get a CELTA certification for more opportunities? I know some people that plan to do that, travel some, and then work in the Middle East, living on a complext and get paid well. Vietnam is another option. I've been told you can live like a king there for cheap, but the profit isn't as large as in Korea. I could try my hand at a international school, but those are extremely competitive from what I understand. I could head to California and travel up the coast, maybe get a teaching job somewhere out west. Or, of course, I could go home.

The view from the wildlife bridge.

I have been here a year. I'm signed up until at least August, and perhaps I will be here another year after that. I'm not sure. My friend is leaving. I biked home as usual today, but seeing as I had no plans, I decided to take a different route. Instead of heading between the church and library as usual, I took a left towards the wildlife bridge and climbed up and over the highway. I started taking turns here and there, meandering in the general direction of my apartment but always somewhat off the mark. I rode through the industrial sector, passing scrap yards and auto shops. I even passed a Salvation Army and an international market that most catered to Bangladeshi food.

After getting myself adequately mixed up, I started heading towards Namdong Tower. I never knew what to make of it, but I knew I always meant to go there. My community is by no means an exciting place, and I always thought it was odd that we would have a sightseeing tower smack-dab in the middle of an industrial park, but, there it is.

Namdong Tower

Underneath the tower I discovered an indoor pool with cheap daily rates. It is connected to the tower by a hallway that appears to showcase all the different products that have been manufactured in Namdong throughout the years. At the end of the hallway sat an empty ticket desk. I took the elevator up. It's about 100m to the top I believe. A fancy restaurant is on the highest floor. The floor below it is an observation deck with labels showing what direction and how far you have to go in order to get to various cities around the world. I meandered around the observation deck until I noticed three or four tables pushed together having dinner.

I decided I better wander back home. Like so many other things in the Incheon area, I believe Namdong Tower, with its empty ticket desk and observation deck being used as restaurant spillover (for a restaurant that was hardly full), must have begun as some sort of graft project or political promise. Incheon is bankrupt, and the lonely Namdong Tower stands as a testament to that.

On my way home I met someone who has been living here for six months. We had never seen each other before. Occasionally it pays to occasionally take the long way home.

Eye Surgery and All About Life With and Without Glasses

     It has been almost four weeks since I had surgery on my eyes. My vision isn't what it was with glasses, but now it has to be either close to or at 20/20. I am happy, but my eyes are still sensitive. I have red lines running out from the edges. I am not used to this. I think they showed up when I caught the cold and I imagine they will go away once I get better. My recovery from here on out should be slow. I still am not allowed to itch my eyes. I have another appointment in a couple weeks to check up on my progress. I cannot drink until then. I don't want to chance an infection, or worse.

     I also have to wear sunglasses for another two or three months. The sunglasses are not a bother, really. In fact, I was excited to wear them. For years sunglasses have been barred from my face with the exception of transition lenses and those weird clip on ones. For the first time in years, I can wear real sunglasses, the type people wear simply to look cool or because it is sunny out.

     I bought aviators. I wear them at all times in natural light, even at dusk. People must think I look pretentious but I guess I don't care really. I have a reason to wear them and even if I didn't I still want to make up for a lot of lost time.

     I have had glasses since I was in first grade. Mrs. Kelly, my computer teacher, noticed me squinting at the white board in the back row. Back then, this was the only white board in the entire school. She told me I needed glasses and moved me to the front of the room until I got them. I was surprised at the time. To me, I suppose the change was so slow that I did not notice the difference. When I did get glasses, the change was so dramatic I am struggling to come up with a way to describe it that isn't cliché. It was like night and day. It really was like seeing the world again for the first time. (See, please tell if you can think of a better description.)

     There are a lot of things I liked about glasses. For one, my brothers all had glasses for a time (only one has them now). I could be just like them. Glasses identified me as a nerd, which I always liked because it was true. People look smarter in glasses and I liked looking smart and I liked looking geeky. I liked my eye doctor. He was fun to talk to and glasses meant seeing him a bit more often. I liked that my eyes were always protected against those just-in-case moments when you don't think to have safety goggles but end up needing them. I liked how my transition lenses changed in the sunlight. I liked how I looked with glasses because I felt that I looked older without them, that I had bags under my eyes that were semi-concealed by my frames.

     I didn't like how glasses felt on my nose. They always left those little red marks. I didn't like that I had to put them on every morning, clean them, and take them off every night. I hated when I would sleep in them and lose them in the morning. If they were knocked off I would have to reshape them so they were not crooked. Glasses almost ruin Halloween. Not only do they cut down on the number of characters you can realistically be, but almost no one looks scary or heroic in glasses. I guess I could be Egon from Ghostbusters or Waldo. Last Halloween, I had considered going as Weird Al but Korea got in the way.

     One of my brothers got eye surgery and he loves it. One of my first concerns was a sort of identity crisis. I had worn glasses so long that they were a part of my identity. People back home and even in Korea had called me Professor. Call me egotistical, but I kind of liked the image. I liked being a nerd and I liked advertising that too. Without glasses, people might have to talk to me to decide who I am. It made me a little uneasy. My brother told me to hell with that, that glasses aren't you. I took his word for it and plunged in.

     I originally planned to do LASIK just like he did because of the quick recovery time and the more advanced procedure. My teacher friend Helen told me to go to Hangil Hospital. They are the top eye hospital in the country. I took her word for it too. LASIK would cost 1.9 million won, or about $1,750.

     Helen was a wonderful help. She brought me in for my initial screening as well as for my surgery. She helped translate for the hospital too. I was incredibly nervous, especially after watching one of the operations on the TV screen. However, after watching a few more I did not worry.

My last photo wearing glasses.

     After a couple rounds of eye drops I pulled over a hospital gown and was ushered into the surgery room. The doctor had me lay down on the LASIK machine. Some hooks were put into my eyelids to hold my eyes open (I still flinch writing this part). A conical suction device was slowly lowered onto my right eye. As it lowered, the machine said “Down” in English. This was confusing because I wasn't sure if it was instructing me or just describing its own motion. After moving the device around my eye for several minutes they turned on the suction and my eye was sucked into position, and with a wince of pain shortly released. They tried again. I heard murmuring in Korean. Then I heard Helen speak. Soon the doctor was pressing his finger to my nose. My nose! My nose was hitting the wide base of the cone-shaped suction machine! The doctor held my nose hard to the left while the machine came down on my right eye. It was no use. The machine said “Up.” There was some more talking. Then I was asked to get up. I already knew what they were going to tell me: I would be the first person in history to be denied eye surgery because my nose was too big. Their version was less blunt and perhaps a bit defensive: my nose was too high on my face, which is strange because it is a German machine, but it might have such a wide base because the technology is state-of-the-art and not yet miniaturized. So state-of-the-art, they said, that this is the only one in Korea and America only has two. Still, the awesomeness of their machine didn't matter if I couldn't use it.

     Instead they had me lay down on the LASEK machine. It fit me fine so I was led back out into the lobby and given another packet of information to read and sign. I was told I could get LASEK today instead. Having already done the research, I agreed. LASEK was supposed to mean more pain and irritation, but in the long run most likely more resilient eyes. It was also 600,000 won cheaper, so in the end the entire procedure only cost 1.3 million won or about $1,200.

     After signing the papers I was given another dose of eye drops and sent back in. Fortunately, this machine didn't require little metal hooks on my eye lids or a suction cup. I'm not sure what it required but it didn't seem as bad. Looking back, I still hated the operation, but at the time I kept telling myself I just extremely disliked it. Fingers and pointed sticks and needly things kept flashing in front of my eyes while they were doused with various fluids. A dish of cold alcohol was used to dissolve the outer layer of cornea. The whole thing made me nervous. I tried to focus on not twitching my toes, breathing regularly, and always staring at the green light as the doctor said. This was especially important when the laser came on. Actually, the laser was the most pleasant part of the experience. When the laser was on, nobody was poking around. It was just a bright, warm light for a second or two. In my first eye I did smell a slight singe, but the brochure says the laser doesn't burn so something doesn't add up.

     The whole operation took under fifteen minutes I would imagine. Sure, I extremely disliked it, but it was not unbearable and keep in mind I am a wimp when it comes to the thought of anything being done to my eyes. I got up and immediately I could see an improvement. My vision wasn't great, but it was improved. The doctor did a quick check and said I would be just fine. As I started to put on my shoes he commented on my Obama socks. Maybe I wore them because I needed to do laundry or maybe I thought wearing strange socks would bring me good luck, but he told me that in Korean culture wearing a man's face on your socks is disrespectful to the man.

     I ended up getting the subway back and hanging out with a coworker while he arranged his new apartment. It helped me keep my mind off my eyes. They weren't in serious pain, just slightly irritated. More than anything I was on edge from the surgery. It took me a long time to unwind and relax.

     That night and for the next week I had to wear protective covers over my eyes. The next morning I was told it was very important to open my eyes slowly so that I wouldn't damage them. I still have no idea how to arrange it in my head so that I remember to do that upon waking up. Do I fall asleep imagining myself opening my eyes slowly?

     The second day wasn't bad, only minor irritation, but the third day was, and I think it was all because I opened them quickly. They were red, they stung, and my vision would double then get blurry and, especially at night, starry. Fortunately it was mostly uphill from there. Some days were better than others, but the doctor told me healing would be gradual and uneven. After maybe a week and a half I finally felt satisfied with where my eyes were.

     It has been a little surreal without glasses. Since the new school year was beginning the following week, I decided for maximum effect I should shave my beard as well. The reactions from students were incredible. I think every day for the first week I would walk into the lunch room and a new group of girls would scream in surprise. I have never garnered that kind of reaction from anybody before. For at least ten seconds a day I felt a little bit like Paul McCartney. One student told a teacher that she could hardly bear to look at me because I had become so handsome. This kind of freaked me out, but then I remembered how fond Koreans are of superlatives and exaggerated reactions. When I first came to the school almost everything I said garnered a gasp of awe. Not so much anymore. This too shall pass.

With a little help, it shall pass sooner rather than later.

     I am still not entirely used to life without glasses. Often before going to bed I still wonder where my glasses are so that I can put them on to take them off before going to bed. I still wear sunglasses at all times in daylight so when I leave the house at night I feel especially naked without glasses of any kind. I subconsciously want to grab for my glasses at times when my vision isn't so great. For a while I was even wearing some lens-less toy glasses to trick my mind into focusing at work. But, most times, I am able to forget I ever had them. I can try to live life normally, but in a new way. If I need glasses again someday, so be it, but for right now I want to experience the kind of vision many take for granted.

The Adventures of Sam in Korea

The following story was inspired by the Skype conversation below. Happy Birthday Sam!

[ 11:06:46] Sam: i like your last two posts

[ 11:06:58] Sam: there reall intertaining

[ 11:09:51] Sam: i like it cause its gonzo esque

[ 11:09:56] Sam: right?

[ 11:10:01] Ben: you think?

[ 11:10:13] Sam: u report through your story

[ 11:10:18] Ben: maybe

[ 11:10:35] Sam: i leanred what the term meant

[ 11:10:54] Ben: great

[ 11:11:50] Sam: also i like when you report about me

[ 11:12:07] Ben: i report about you when?

[ 11:12:21] Sam: thats right , you dont!

[ 11:12:25] Ben: LOLOL

[ 11:12:38] Sam: i=people like me

[ 11:12:46] Sam: they want to hear about me

[ 11:13:00] Ben: ok. so start your own blog

[ 11:13:27] Sam: no

[ 11:13:52] Sam: you can just have side adventures of me

[ 11:14:01] Sam: u can create the story

[ 11:14:10] Sam: people like to hear about me

[ 11:14:14] Ben: ok. possibly

[ 11:14:22] Ben: i mean, it makes sense

[ 11:14:45] Sam: but when u right about me, make sure i am wearing my black and honolulu blue lions cap

[ 11:14:56] Sam: it gives me charter

[ 11:15:01] Sam: carachter

[ 11:15:10] Sam: i cant spell that word

[ 11:16:59] Sam: at least i like to hear about me

[11:17:16] Sam: and it will give your blog more of that word i cant spell

      “You don't like flying, do you?” Here Sam was, landing in Korea, and the man next to him was finally attempting to start a conversation.

     “No, no, where'd you get that idea? I'm in the Air Force actually,” said Sam, letting the man believe he was a pilot and not a burnt out desk jockey.

     “Ya wanna know the secret of successful air travel? After you get where you're going, ya take off your shoes and socks. Then ya walk around on the rug barefoot and make fists with your toes.”

     “Fists with your toes?” This is getting weird, Sam thought. He grabbed his carry-on and joined the line toward the exit.

     In the Incheon Airport, it started to settle in. He was in Korea now. Nearly everyone around him was Korean. No longer would he have to suffer the English, or England. Sam smiled, grabbed some Dunkin' Donuts, and handed the cab driver the address to the 나카토미 Guesthouse in Nonhyeon. This was the neighborhood where Sam's brother, Ben, lived.

     The cab driver made the usual small talk, asking him where he was from, his age, if he had a girlfriend. This all seemed a little personal, but company was company. “Why did you come to Korea?” the driver then asked.

     “It's a birthday surprise,” Sam said, leaving out the fact that the birthday was his own. Ben had no idea Sam was coming. It would come as a total surprise, especially since he was supposed to be at work today in England. He would spend the day in a guesthouse, then surprise him the following morning. It was a risky maneuver, but traveling Europe had made Sam confident in his abilities.

     The taxi stopped in front of the 나카토미 Guesthouse. Sam paid and headed for the door. To his surprise, a friendly German man was running the counter. The German showed him to his room and for the first time since leaving the plane he was able to relax. Sam threw off his black and Honolulu blue Detroit Lions cap, slipped off his shoes and socks and laid in bed. Then he remembered what the man on the plane had said. Fists with your toes. He started to curl his toes only to realize there was no carpet. Idiot. He fell back down on the bed and slept.

     When he awoke it was the early evening but jet-lag had erased all notion of time. Only food mattered. His stomach rumbled and Sam started out the door. The hallway was cold on his bare feet. Startled, he went back inside and put on his shoes, laughing to himself. What if he stepped on some glass? Someone might get hurt!

     On the sidewalk Sam breathed in Korea. The exhaust. The Seoul sewer system. The beef and rice. Strolling down the street he was about to turn into the first restaurant he saw when he heard someone call from behind him, “Sam! Sam!”

     He turned around to find a smooth skinned old man with a ponytail smiling up at him. “Hagwon?” he said. Sam had seen men like this before in the movies. It was always some wise Asian man that teaches the hero before they go on an adventure. How did he know my name, Sam thought. Perhaps there is more to this man than meets the eye. At the very least, a hagwon sounds like a delicious type of fish.

     He followed the old man up the staircase and into what looked like an office. Seeing it wasn't food or a martial arts dojo, Sam turned around to leave. “Sam!” the old man shouted. Sam turned around and saw that the man was offering him a seat.

     “How do you know my name?” Sam said. Before the man could answer, an old lady walked into the room. She yelled at him. It sounded like they were fighting. Back and forth it went until finally the man got up from the desk. She calmly sat down and began to speak.

     “I sorry. My husband, he is no good at English. He is trying to find special teacher. He saw you were Western and thought you would be perfect. I keep telling him to leave waygookin alone, but he is sure you are the one. I am sorry. He very strange. You can go home now. We won't bother you.”

     “What do you mean? Why am I the one? One for what? What am I doing here? Where is the hagwon fish? How did he know my name!”

     The woman paused, then turned to her husband. More shouting. They both turned to Sam. “My husband says he needs you. He says you are not a normal waygookin, you are very special. He cannot believe his luck. He wants you to start right away as our new basketball coach!”

     Basketball coach? A sudden realization dawned on Sam. He had posted a video years before showcasing his mad basketball skills. Had they seen the video? Was that how they knew his name? “Listen, if you don't either get me some fish or tell me how you know who I am, then I am out of here. Your choice.”

     “But Sam, we don't know your name,” said the old woman.

     “But you just said it! My name is Sam!”

     She started to laugh, “Oh your name is Sam!” Words were exchanged in Korean. “My husband says now you surely must stay. In Korean, ssaem is our nickname for teacher. It was meant to be. He will show you the students. Here is our contract.”

     Sam looked down at the contract. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be on base at this very moment! If he went back, who knows what type of trouble he would be in! Sam always dreamed of a career in athletics. This could be his one and only shot. He looked down. He picked up the pen, and signed. “Now, when can we eat?”

To be continued...

Coins

A couple days ago I traded coins with one of the chinese teachers. They are leaving for home in a couple weeks and we both needed a good memento I suppose. She gave me 1 Yuan and in exchange I gave her a dime and a penny. With current exchange rates, this made for a five cent profit! Now I am completely out of American money in Korea.

It wasn't until coming to Korea that I realized just how useless pennies are. I have a coin dish on my cabinet that for many months had four 10 won coins in it. They sat and sat there because it is extremely rare that anything in Korea can be bought with them. Very recently I received another 10 won coin from a friend and was secretly excited to have enough to equal 50 won. Why, now if I only get a 50 won coin then that will equal 100 won, and finally my money will become remotely useful again. Generally I save up my 100 won coins and when I get ten of them I trade them in for a roll of kimbap.

The annoyance with small change in Korea has lead me to create a new rule that I follow: only pay in cash when guaranteed to not get change smaller than 100 won coins back. This is fairly easy to follow in Korea, but it does result in me using debit on small items from time to time. Of course, this rule only works because tax is already added into the value of the purchase. I know exactly how much something will cost me before I go to the register.

In America, I always had a fondness for the penny, but my experience in Korea further cements what anybody that has studied the subject knows: pennies need to go. They cost far more money than they are worth and are a huge hassle. I have no emotional attachment to 10 won so, being almost equivalent to the penny, I can finally see the uselessness of the coin for what it is.

A Brief Post about Stoplights

This morning I rode the bus into work and it let me off across the road from the school. My coworker and I saw that no one was coming and so I walked across. She told me I shouldn't do that in front of students or Koreans. I guess I was being a bad role model. And it is true: Koreans rarely jaywalk. I should have waited for the little green man to light up. I dismissed the whole thing quickly, saying it's "a cultural thing and they will understand."

After school that night I was talking to one of my friends, a head teacher who was also there late. Somehow we went from pronunciation of the word "yield" to talking about driving. She started laughing about how Americans always wait for the stoplight to turn green before going, even when there is no one coming. I told her about the fear of cops and the subject soon changed to my experiences being pulled over and her one experience with a breathalyzer. As it does with English teachers, this lead to a discussion of how the word is a portmanteau of "breath" and "analyzer", just like "chocoholic" is from "chocolate" and "alcoholic." She told me they have portmanteaus in Korean as well and the world once again seemed a smaller and friendlier place for me.

It wasn't until I was at the corner across from my apartment that stoplights once again crossed my mind. There I was, the red hand glowing across the street, doing my routine check to see if it was safe. It was. I jogged along and suddenly everything came into focus. Once again, the opposite side of the world sometimes requires opposite thinking.

American cars respect the red light. Korean pedestrians respect the red hand. Meanwhile, Cambodia has neither.