Joanie Loves Chachi

The Korean word for penis is pronounced 'Chachi;' written as 자지. On a related note, the first episode of 'Joanie loves Chachi' that aired in Korea was the highest rated show of ever.

Another fun fact: in English, we often refer to the more bulbous and spherical components of male genetalia as 'balls,' 'nuts,' or even 'jewels.' Well aren't we clever. Maybe we are clever, but we are surely not as creative as the Korean masses. Their slang for these same body parts equates to 'fire eggs' when translated directly.

In an effort to appeal to both sexes, I will include in this entry the fact that a woman's period is called 'magic day' here in Korea...magic indeed if it were to last but one day. There is also a brand of feminine hygiene products that goes by this name: Abracadabra.

Puck off, North Korea!

So, I got to Korea just in time for the hullaballoo that was the missile attack on the South Korean freighter by North Korea. Since then, it has been mostly smooth sailing and I've stopped thinking that all of the loud Korean announcements on the street (usually about sales on fruit) are telling me to seek shelter from a nuke sent to us with love from Kim Jong-Il. However, as of early last week, tensions are high again since the adult baby known as Kim Jong Il decided to open fire on some unsuspecting and undeserving South Korean soldiers. In all, 4 were killed (to my knowledge); 2 soldiers and 2 civilians. How rude, Lil' Kim. Since this most recent incident, the world seems to have gotten a little carried away. And by world, I mean media. As someone currently living in South Korea, I can tell you that the atmosphere is little affected. Yeah, it is a serious matter, and yes, some international attention is merited. Also, I will be checking my e-mail more regularly for potential word form the Canadian Embassy telling me to get the puck out of here. My point is just that, all things considered, it is not that big of a deal. It is by no means the first time something like this has happened and all of my Korean friends assure me that it is of no concern of ours, especially since we are so far south.

I think at this point that the media, especially foreign media, are just as guilty of war-mongering as the "Shining Star of Paektu Mountain." So, for all of those who think that I am dead in South Korea, I am not. Take a load off. Why not indulge in a sip of soju and chuckle at this lighthearted gem.



Disclaimer: I plan on deleting this entry altogether if we get nuked.

Busan International Fireworks Festival

Okay. So, in Korea, they use "international" as an adjective in the names of pretty much any festival, no matter how strictly intranational...which isn't a word but I hope it comes across as meaning the opposite of international. Perfect. Usually, this causes some disappointment. Such was not the case at all with Busan's International Fireworks Festival. I was far from disappointed as I sat on Gwangali beach with over a million other people watching the sky light up as various continents/countries did their best to woo us with a sweet show of fire working. The show was scheduled to start at 8, we were there more than 2 hours early and the beach itself had been claimed. Me and my posse of 10 or so champions claimed a wee slice of the sidewalk between the beach and the road as our very own. By the time the actual show was to start, the street bordering the sand directly, as well as the ones meeting it, were legitimately fullof people. Behold the fire, as it works.

Europe was the most impressive in my opinion, as they lit up the entire mother licking bridge in sweet symphony with the classical music that was accompanying their display. You'll all be happy to know that of the two songs that we were supposed to identify as American was one sweet Disney ditty.


The only time I felt less than positively giddy throughout the whole time was when, as and after the crowd dispersed, there was the most offensive amount of refuse left on the beach and the street bordering it. I'm sure this would have been the case anywhere because of the sheer bulk of people, but Korea's failure to get on the public trash can bandwagon pains me. Pains me good. All was not ruined though, the rest of the night had nothing but good things in store as all of the party people who had witnessed the festivities lingered on the beach for merriment and poor decision-making.

The Ugly

Breaking up the aforementioned "bad" of Manila, was the ugly that one Stephanie Sam Clark and I brought. The Philippines, you see, is home to a charming drinking establishment by the name of Hobbit House. Word on the street is that it was founded by a German expat and staffed by only little people. Having made back his initial investment and then some, the founder gave the business over to his employees. The slogan is "The Smallest Waiters in the World" and I can say with more than moderate confidence that this is true.
Besides the uniquely attributed employees, this bar has as its claim to fame an extensive selection of import beers - 100 to be exact. Coming from Korea, this was especially exciting. Eager to select a beer that we had been missing over the past 5 months, Stiff and I reached for the list only to behold the most tempting of deals.

Drink 5 import beers and get a free Hobbit House T-Shirt, you say? Don't mind if we do! So, Stiff and I set off on what we aimed to make a worldwide sampling of tasty brews. We decide to start off in Canada with some of our home and native land's Moosehead. I think it was sometime after this first beer that we decided to chronicle the 5 different beers and commemorate each and every one of them with a new hairstyle and unflattering photo.

We followed Moosehead with Kingfisher from India, Brahma from Brazil, Caffreys from Northern Ireland and finished with Singha from Thailand. So you see, it was with the sweet hair styles that we did indeed bring the Ugly...and the Cousin It...

Also, apart from the obvious sweet novelty of the joint coupled with the beer for T-Shirts deal, the bar was memorable on its own. They had amazing live music and atmosphere that prompted us to stay well beyond seeing the bottom of the last of our five foreign bottles of beer.

The Bad.

The title of this entry is not to suggest that there was anything bad about the trip, besides it ending, of course. It's actually in reference to balance that Lazer, Stiff, and I chose to strike between the paradise of the 'Ppines and more of the reality.

A lot of the SK Waygooks headed straight for Boracay. Fair. It is quite legitimately heaven. Our little group decided it best to see some of the mainland as well, so we spent the first few and the last few days in Manila. I'm glad we went did, but it was not all good. Parts of it were heartbreaking and one of us ended up breaking down while inside a convenience store. The three of us had gone into the Mini Stop to get water and, let's be honest, Pringles for the night. Just to get into the store, we had to step over and around families on the street - primarily emaciated mothers carrying one or more children. Having been warned against it countless times before arriving, we refrained from giving them money but picked up a few snacks and milk for them while inside the store. They watched through the doors and must have realized what we were doing because by the time we'd all left to distribute our meagre donations, the group outside had tripled. Devastating.

I also realized in Manila that there was the silverest of linings to my getting robbed in Vietnam. I sincerely believe having safely returned from the Philippines that had I not been mugged in Nam, I would have gotten absolutely stripped clean in Manila. Thankfully, I was freshly paranoid and nothing happened. We were constantly carrying our purses like footballs a la Joan Prymack, and we had distributed our money all over our bodies. These precautions proved to be far from unnecessary and at one point I physically removed a boy's hand from my pocket. He was in up to his elbow with his left hand while his right hand was fully visible in front of my face begging for money. I have no doubt that had we not been hyper careful, bad things would have happened especially since we were the ONLY white people in Manila, 3 white chicks, at that.

Apart from strictly observing the poverty and corruption, we took in the sights of Manila. We walked to the aquarium through Rizal park and spent a lovely afternoon. At the aquarium we took part in the 'foot spa'. This is the name given for massive pools of water wherein "Dr. Fish" eagerly await your freshly cleaned tootsies andhoover them smooth - one of my funnier experiences, especially given how ticklish I am. Whether or not I got my money's worth is debatable since I probably only succeeded in keeping my feet submerged for about 3 of the 20 minutes.

We also checked out the old Fort Santiago, which is the preserved and walled-in old city. It was cool to see how small the city was before Manila blew up into what it is now. We walked the whole perimeter in well under an hour.

The Good.

Korea was nice enough to schedule their Thanksgiving Holiday such as to allot us silly Waygooks another week's vacation. It seemed as though it would have been rude not to take advantage, so me and some of the coolest foreigners in the country fled to the Philippines.

4 out of the 8 days were spent on paradise. Assuming that I am bound for heaven at death, death will actually be redundant seeing as how I've already been there. For realz. I've been lucky in my life: I've traveled a good majority of the Caribbean and seen a lot of its beauty in brief. Nothing that I have seen in terms of beaches before can even touch Boracay. I'm not saying that pockets of what I've seen of the Caribbean haven't been as breathtaking - but I will say this: Boracay is an island measuring 9km long and 1km across. The whole thing is pristine.

We arrived in the evening and made a beeline for the beach. Walking into the water, we can see our feet and the fish we are startling. This is in the dark. After the sun goes down, the water is still so clear and clean that the visibility isn't compromised. Also, it feels like bath water. More like how bath water would feel if you were a god and your shower curtain was the most picturesque scene imaginable. There could not have been a better way to start our stay on Boracay and it proved perfectly indicative of things to come as this is how our stay on the island ended.

How's that for perfect symmetry?

So for starters we met up with the rest of the foreigners that were on Boracay and we went for some island hopping. This covered some cave swimming, some snorkeling, and lunch - all on a private boat. Not bad for under $20 per person for a full 6 some-odd hour day. A few days later, we had the same kind of deal put together, but this one was with cliff jumping as a primary objective. It was unbelievable. And, not taking anything away from my sweet times jumping off pirate ships in the 'Ppines or Antigua with my 2nd family, nothing compares to a 50 foot drop off a cliff. That's when your insides truly get acquainted with your bathing suit bottoms. Luckily, I have the mummy position down when I enter the water. For me, it's a necessity just to keep the bathing suit top on. Especially with waters as clear as these, I wasn't going to take any chances. So, I escaped primarily unscathed. I'm not going to pretend that jumping that height into water was a great choice with my sinus infection, but what's done is done. Not everyone had my sweet technique down and some people got a bruised tailbone in the deal, but I doubt they regret the experience as a whole, even if it is only because it's long since healed.
On top of these two day trips, we just got a lot of solid beach time in on one of the best beaches in the world. We also got massages on the beach which got interrupted mid-way but some tropical rain - Jumangi style. No worries though, the massages continued and though they might have been slightly less enjoyable with the pelting rain, I'm sure they will be remembered all the more vividly by all involved as a result.

Intelnationar Malching Band Pestivar

If you have read this before, you know that I have the sweetest co-teacher ever. In fact, I wrote this song about her:

You're a mean one, Jang Min Jeong.
You really are a heel.
You're as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel.
Jang Min Jeoooo-ooong.

You're a bad banana
With a greasy black peel.

So you can understand my frustration and skepticism when she came to me and said the following: "You in parade on Wednesday, 6 o'clock." Sweet, Min Jeong, sweet. I was completely ready for this to mean that I would be in some sort of parade consisting of just me walking while being flogged....or frankly anything as bad or worse. Imagine my surprise and elation when I rock up to the mysterious address that my teacher wrote down for me (sans instructions )to find that this "parade" that I was to be in was in fact the YEOSU INTERNATIONAL MARCHING FESTIVAL!!! Win.

I don't know how "international" it was, since the whole ceremonial part of it was conducted in Korean....and the bulk of the bands in question were also Korean. What I do know, is this: Thailand was represented, as was the US. Canada made an appearance as well and brought with it about 15 bagpipes, 6 drums, and the combined amount of kilts - awesome because it's funny...not necessarily because it was good.

Up first, after the obligatory and VERY Korean opening ceremony (which took over an hour), was Thailand. So much about their performance was awesome. Between the traditionally dressed backup dancers who turned into the bass and drum players for the second song and the fact that the second song was The Phantom of the Opera complete with singers, I don't know what was best. What I do know is this: the guy who sang the part of the dude had glitter in his pocket. He threw this glitter at the end. Best finale ever? Quite possibly.

My second favorite performance was by one of Korea's many entries. Technically, it was incredibly flawed. The formations were elaborate and poorly executed. The players were literally looking behind them with fear in their eyes trying to make sure there were no collisions. Sadly, there weren't. You might be asking yourself "Diana, if they were so bad, why were they one of your favorites?" The answer is simple: song selection. They opened with a rendition of Mambo #5. That's right. Lou Bega has relevance beyond the 90s, after all! Their second song was all too predicable. I mean, when you hear Mambo #5, you immediately wish you could follow it up with the title track from Les Mis. No?

Anyways. This is a silly and pointless entry. Well, maybe more silly than pointless. The point is that Korea is hilarious and that you should all come. And, assuming that I know you, you should all come and stay with me. And bring Shake 'n' Bake mix. And Hot Chocolate. And Bath and Body Works hand sanitizing sheets. And, maybe most of all, tampons.

k,thanks,bai.

Grocery sh-ping in the land of dried squid.

In South Korea, there are a number of foreign foods that are in fact available for purchase. At least this is true in the areas surrounding Seoul, Busan, and some of the other big players. Such bounty is not available in Yeosu, however. As far as restaurants go, the only foreign fare is McDonalds, which is at the bus terminal. In Yeochun, our neighbour city, they opened a Quiznos last weekend. This fateful day is to be recognized among the expat community of Yeosu as a revered holiday.

When it comes to grocery shopping, things can be even more dire. The things that pass for "cheese" around here offend me as a Marc Prymack raised cheese snob. Often times I get excited for "foreign" food - like nacho chips. Then I read the label and realize they are the product of DENMARK. Is. You. Surrrrrious. When I think fiesta, I truly do think Scandinavia.

The key to successful grocery shopping in Korea is to buy every foreign product you see, whenever you see it. If you don't, E-Mart/Lotte Mart will not continue carrying it, and you will rue the day you didn't buy whole wheat pasta just because you wanted to walk home unencumbered. Having learned from my experience with the whole wheat pasta, I once spied Canada Dry Gingerale and bought-out E-Mart. The same was true with Tobasco sauce. The latter was a terrible miscalculation on my part since the one bottle will likely last me all year. It's not like it's Frank's Red Hot, or anything.

And, my absolute favourite thing about grocery shopping in Korea, besides the Korean Betties wearing white leg-warmers and trying to sell me laundry detergent, is the Spam aisle.

Because, really...if there's one thing that should never be made generic, it's canned pig parts.

Trois

So, following my brush with hardcore crime, I continued my adventures in Vietnam with little difficulty thanks to fantastic friends and agreeable Scotiabank Visa employees.


Also, Vietnam is pretty cheap. I ate like a king for the remainder of my time in the fair country despite my having been rendered essentially impoverished by normal standards. The average price of some of the best meals of my life ran about 3 dollars. None too shabby.

Another rather affordable aspect of Vietnam seems to be anything tourism related. While in Hanoi I took in a handful of museums and a water puppet show, all for under 20 bucks combined. Hell, we even stopped in to pay Ho Chi Mhin a visit. He looks well, though his aesthetician may have had a heavy hand with the botox. Hardiharharhar. What I want to know is how anyone can presume to know whether or not what is believed to be the preserved Ho Chi Mhin isn't just a wax statue.

We also hit a museum that was dedicated to exploring the different ethnologic components of Vietnam and area. This might have been my favourite educational part of the whole trip. The whole museum was really well done and it even had a pretty big open-air exhibit portion where we got to see all the different kinds of lodgings for these dfferent groups of people. My favourite was a structure that was elevated and had a floor that was made of scarcely spaced bamboo shoots with thinner pieces of bamboo and other foliage thrown over it. It was pretty unnerving walking across it, but the fact that I didn't go crashing through the floor was the justification I used to treat myself to about 5 different entrees at dinner that night.


So, really, my being robbed didn't even effect my quality of life while in Vietnam. It only disallowed me from buying my weight in silk, which is tragic. I still managed to score a few scarves and some bathrobes that would make Hef himself rather jealous.

huffin' and a puffin'

and a blowin' my house down!

But for serious, dear typhoon; take it easy on my window panes.

Currently there is a typhoon raging (in) and around my apartment. Basically, in South Korea in general, I am assured. While I don't think that I actually will die as a result, there really is no harm in asking that you tell my mom I love her. You know, just in case.

Also, it would be positively neat if you flooded the area directly around my school. Hopefully resulting in a day off. Apparently, in Korea there are not snow days. I demand a typhoon-induced-flood-day so that I can stay home and catch up on my sitting and other pressing matters.

Deux

Once back on dry land following our tour of Ha Long Bay and stay on Castaway Island, we settle back into the hostel. It is then that I treated myself, and those around me, by showering for the first time in four days. Don't get me wrong, I've gone longer without showering, and likely will again, but it's different when it is a sauna outside and you've been swimming in water that is not un-clean for days on end. See what I did there? The old double negative.

Having napped on and off on the bus back to Hanoi, les filles and I feel up to a "night out." We head to an Irish bar in downtown Hanoi. By the way, if there is one thing these past few months has taught me, it's that the Irish are such infamous drinkers as to have drinking establishments made in their likeness all around the world - even where there are no actual Irish present. WHAT A LEGACY!

Halfway through our night, we are "encouraged" by the police to partake in a change of venue. Fair. Who are we to argue seeing as how we don't speak Vietnamese? So we pour into the street outside the bar. It is then that things took a turn for the impoverished. The bar that we were to be going to provided cabs for people to encourage their business. While debating whether or not Lazer and I should get in a cab or go on the back of Rian's bike. It was in the moment of choosing 'taxi' that Marc Prymack inadvertently robbed me of around 400 bones and caused me a lot of hassle. Was it not for me having promised him to never get on the back of a guy's motorcylce....in Vietnam...in flip flops..etc... I would still have my wallet. But, I might also have road rash. Such is the nature of most gambles.

So, we are left as the last silly, foreign, white girls outside this bar. We are ushered towards a cab. We are forced inside. I am relieved of my wallet by two nice Vietnamese youth on motorcycles. My street cred skyrockets - D*Pryme's rap EP drops this Holiday Season.

Good mornings, afternoons, evenings, and nights...save 1.

I recently went to Vietnam, and a lot went down. And I am a lazy blogger. As such, there will be several entries through which I will attempt to impart the bulk of my experience there. Because this is the first, and because of Vietnam's historical intertwinings with the French, I shall label this entry "un."



I went to Vietnam with some of the best girls that I've met since leaving Canada. In real life, my four travel companions are likely some of the best ladies in the world. We left Incheon airport and set out for Hanoi, Vietnam by was of Guangzhou, China. Any of you who have met me, or my father, know how I feel about China. Our negative feelings were confirmed, by the way. Maybe confirmed is a harsh and definitive word and in its place I should use "reinforced". Nonetheless, during our layovers there, we were exposed to not a lot more than 6 dollar water, terrible food, and msg in mass quantities. Also, the bathrooms scared me...and I live in Korea....where people line up to use the squatters even if a regular seat-type-toilet is available.

Once in Hanoi, it was smooth sailing. You see, it turns out I'm an adult, and I booked ahead to have a shuttle to come collect us from the airport and bring us to the Hostel. Hanoi Backpackers' Hostel is a gem, by the way. And I would know. We spent the whole week either staying at the hostel, or on tours organized through it. Straight away after our first Vietnamese night's sleep, we head out on a 4 day, 3 night tour of Ha Long Bay. The name of the tour in question is "Rock long, rock hard tour of Ha Long Bay". Touche! For under 200 bones, we spend 1 night aboard a ship on the bay itself and 2 nights sleeping in huts on a secluded island therein. I should mention for boasting's sake that this measly fee also covered all meals over the course of the trip, as well as water sports (like banana boatin!!) and kayaking.


The above photo is gold because it shows Lazer, myself, and Stiff all riding like it's stolen long after the other 5 have fallen off. It was around this time that we became known as 'Team Korea' among other members of the tour as well as the hostel staff. We also received many compliments on our chopstick skills. Go figure.



Having been dubbed Team Korea, we took it upon ourselves to educate some of the other foreigners in the ways of Korea. My friend Marie 'Mum' Wilson has an app on her iPhone that provides her with a new Korean word every day. One fateful day, the word in question was 넓적다리 (pronounced: hi-bok-chee). This means thigh. Of course, as with many of Marie's 'words of the day', we thought we'd never come to use it before forgetting it again. How wrong we were. In a moment of brilliance, we craft a game by the same name. The game proceeds much like tag, but everyone is it. All the time. Basically, you go up to whomever you want, breath heavily and obviously onto your palm before yelling "HIIIIIBOKCHEEE" and bringing your hand crashing, palm-down, onto someone's thigh. Points if it's unexpected. Extra points if it leaves a mark. This spreads like wildfire and we have everyone believing that this is a traditional game in Korea - to be fair, it is not nearly as random as some of the actual Korean games of old. I really do pity the fool that recalls and acts on our words of wisdom that, should they ever come to Korea, a surefire way to impress and garner acceptance if not free drinks is to bust an enthusiastic thigh slap on the nearest ajumma.

The weekend to end weekends!

Weekends in the ROK are always a mixed bag. None more so than the weekend of July 23rd to 25th. In an effort to recover from what was a hectic and trying weekend at mudfest, me and my A Team decide that we should plan for a tame destination. We settled on Mokpo, a decent sized city and the home of Lindsay, so we could crash for free and take it more or less easy. Bring on the less easy...as usual.

Friday
Lazer had been raving about a bistro type place called Kirin's, and I've never heard of a bistro that serves kimchi, so I am instantly on board. So we go for dinner, and are blown away. A) By the food and atmosphere and B) by the owner Jin Seon. She is a Korean who is in a relationship with a French ex-pat - hence the bistro. I ordered pumpkin lasagna, it was a good choice. Lazer ordered the eggplant lasagna, it was a better choice and is featured below.


Back to Jin Seon, she is unreal. The decor of the joint is of her own design and we find out later into the evening that quite a few of the photographs and paintings are hers. We make the assumption that one so cool must love to party. Let me tell you, assuming doesn't ALWAYS make asses of people. She's down. She tells us that she just needs to clean up and that since we are the only people left in the restaurant, she'll close down and we'll leave as soon as the dishes are done. Stiff and I, sensing an opportunity to expedite the process, get started on the dishes. We make a mean assembly line.


As a means to pay us back for our voluntary labour, Jin Seon grabs around 6 bottles of wine. Pretty good ratio for 7 people, ne? 'Ne' is Korean for 'yes'. 바보 is Korean for stuuuupid. Off we head to Peace Park, a splendid boardwalk type area, in order to set off fireworks and dance on forbidden barges. So, it's getting pretty late and, as cool as Jin Seon is, she is far from irresponsible. She heads home to bed. We don't. We demand to be taken somewhere we can dance, and dance we do. Until the wee morn. We are taken to a club called Gwang Nights. It is a fun time. Spotted: fit Korean man in tribal printed harem pants. Win! Obviously, a dance-off is waged and lost. To be fair, the opponent was a member of the Korean National Ballet. The bulk of which we met when we were invited back to their table. We are told to come watch them in Swan Lake the next day.

Saturday
Wake up after a cat nap of a night's sleep. Head down to Kraze burger to ingest Western-style beef products..and in Stiff's case, a veggie burger. Tool around town. Get coffee in A DOLL HOUSE, go shopping. Gamze buys a whole new wardrobe. Nothing really out of the ordinary here.

Head back to Lazer's place for a self-prescribed nap. Nawwwwt. This turns to girl talk and silliness which in turn get us amped for another night at Gwang Nights. Mamma Marie, ever the responsible one, opts to stay in and engage in the horizontal activity known as 'sleep', something the rest of us have but vague memories of. No worries. We take Marie with us in the form of a necklace. Realizing that we've yet to eat a real dinner, we head to Tom and Tom's cafe and get some bagels. Because that covers all of the food groups. We are mistaken for prostitutes. We head to a Family Mart to start drinking a classy mixture of Hot 6 (Korean Red Bull) and Soju (Korean Life Source). On the way, Stiff spots the very same tribal harem pants from last night and she calls to their wearer from down the street. Of course it is the same dudes. They have excellent English on account of living abroad studying ballet and likely being from wealthy families. They use this English to ask why we didn't go to their ballet. Fair question, we thought it was a joke. We assure them that we will go the following day. We head to the nightclub to meet up with some Korean guy friends of Lazer's. They play on her soccer team, they have excellent English. They have reserved a Noraebang (Singing Room) for us.

After dancing to some K Pop, we submit and go to the Noraebang that Korean Joel, who's favorite words are 'jesus' and 'christ', has reserved. We ride there in a convertible. We sing and party at length. We find out that one of our Korean friends, Jay, is the male and Korean version of Celine Dion. We are told that he was on Korean Idol, but was kicked off for being too drunk. I love him immediately. We stay there until 8 AM! And really, even at this point only think to leave because Gamze has been dropped knee-first onto a glass table.




Sunday
After taking a few photos in the cab to Lazer's place, I fall dead asleep. We sleep until midmorning at Lazer's before heading to Kraze Burger to wreak more gastrointestinal havoc on our bodies. To premise: I already feel awesome.
Bring on the ballet! So, we go to the ballet. It is amazing. The set and costumes are amazing. We all develop crushes on the ballerinas that we had chance encountered twice this very weekend. I start calling them ballerinos in an effort to make them more easily classifiable as male to people who hear this story. And because I like messing with English like that. After the performance, we are invited for dinner. The bulk of the ladies attend, but I am forced to flee back to my stomping ground a whopping 3+ hour bus ride away. Le sigh. As soon as I get on the first bus of my trek in Mokpo, I begin my week-long attempt to rest and recharge for what is sure to await me 5 days into the future - another weekend.

Korean Haircut How-to

Despite my deep-rooted and lasting desire to grow my hair "mermaid long", I recently submitted myself to my first Korean haircut. Hot dog, was it ever an experience. After asking my ever-so-helpful ko-teacher to write down the Korean translation for "trim", only to have her write down what google translate later revealed as "big cut", I venture out into the mean streets of Yeosu in search of a hair salon. This was probably the easiest mission ever since "hair clubs" dot the streets of Korea like hole-in-the-wall restaurants. So, in I walk. I check my umbrella at the door; as is the custom in Korea, where during monsoon season every and all salon/restaurant/store has an umbrella condom machine and receptacle at the entry. I am then greeted by the nicest and least English-speaking personnel. Win. Here, I engage my inner Korean and drop a bow and a greeting on them before basically exhausting my knowledge of Hangul by saying "조금". This means 'little'. When paired with sign language, I am sure that this adequately expresses my desire for a trim and my aversion to "big cut".

I sit in the chair, and the I am introduced to my stylist. He is at once the most effeminate and heterosexual man I have EVER met. His scissors, combs, and blow dryer call a bejeweled HOLSTER at his hip their home. And really, why wouldn't they?

Then, he gets to work on the cut. One man, 5 pairs of scissors. Hair in my face for the duration. I have no idea whether or not my broken Hangul and sweet gesturing has indeed conveyed my desire for "just a little off the ends", I start to worry that my Ko has phoned ahead to ensure that I leave with a Korean bowl-cut..

The hair is parted, I still have hair. Phewf. Thinking the fun is over, I stand and start to walk towards the counter. Too soon, first, I am supposed to follow an underage child worker into the back to have my hair washed. Slightly backwards by my standards, but hey, in Korea you do call 119 in case of emergency. So, I sit down and put my head in the sink behind me. It is now that my height becomes a problem in Korea. Again. Sweet sassy molassy, is that sink ever far from where my shoulders naturally sit. No matter, I'll power through.

Then, following the wash that followed the cut, comes the towel dry -this preteen girl has her WAY with my ears. She sticks her fingers right in there. It was not entirely unpleasant, though she may have made contact with my brain, thus robbing me of my ability to do basic math. I am ushered back to the first chair, and my super-fem hair dresser is fetched from his smoke break. No less than 3 asians with no less than 5 blow dryers between them get going on my hair. Korean efficiency is real. Hair dry, my stylist shoos away his help and proceeds to curl my whole head of hair.

When all is said and done, I saunter questioningly over to the counter. I only have about 50, 000 won in my wallet, so I reach for my bank card and don't even try to decipher what price she tells me before handing it over. I get the receipt, fully prepared for the whole song and dance to amount to anything over 50, 000. Not a chance. 12, 000 won and a "trim" later, I walk out of the salon with the nicest hair I've had since prom...into a monsoon.

Double win.

latentryaboutheworldcup

Yeah, Korea's been out of the World Cup for a a while now. Both Koreas, in fact. But since the World Cup itself is still recent enough to be relevant to the world via the many who care and the few who've since jumped on the bandwagon, I figured that I still had a window to write about Korea's showing.
To be fair, I honestly never even noticed the WC before I moved to Korea for this one. I had heard the words 'World Cup' before, but as far as my life goes, I was only familiar in terms of the school yard game by the same name, wherein teams of two adopt the name of a country and try to score on the same net as many other teams of two who've adopted the namesakes of other countries. It should probably be noted that Canada was not a popularly chosen country to represent among those playing this game.

Above is a photo of me watching the Korea vs. Uruguay game in Busan. It was pouring. In Korea, there is a country-wide belief that rain causes one to melt. But seriously, Koreans fear the rain like a mother. Which is hilarious because they have a Monsoon SEASON. But anyways, even the monsoon couldn't keep the Koreans off of the beach, where they gathered in droves and in ponchos.

Big Rock in the ROK?

Marc Prymack, this one's for you.

Father Dearest,
this past weekend I travelled mostly far, but somewhat wide. I went all the way to Cheongju to act as part of the fan base of a Waygooken Rugby team for a tournament. The tournament was good. Watching the games was awesome, seeing more of Korea was awesome, the company was awesome. But mostly, dearest papa, it was wonderful because way over here in a small city south of Seou,l I came across a most wondrous thing. Rock Creek Cider on tap. That's right. Big Rock product is available in South Korea right from the tap. It might have come a few days late, but I will forever count this among one of the few true Canada Day miracles.

My refuge from fish stench and fruit trucks.

This is where I live.

It is rather large and filled

with nominal amounts of black mold.

Closet, "magic" room, and view from the front door.

*absent: Meth-lab stove, computer/faux-suede futon/AQUARIUM room.

'glamour' and 'maybe' according to Koreans.

Ah, Korea. True, they are the Asian country that spends the most per-capita on English education. However, they remain the least proficient. This is evident in the way that the sign outside my very classroom is misspelled. Expanding on this idea, let me educate you further on English's standing in this here country. For starters, there are some English words that Koreans all know. Words like: cute (pronounced cutie), beautiful (pronounced beautipuhr), love (pronounced luh-be), and so on. While these words are often mispronounced, the understanding of their meaning is on target. Such is NOT the case with the following words in particular: 'glamour' and 'maybe.'

Okay, believe it or don't, it is first necessary that you know how important volleyball is here. School is let out early on Wednesdays for it. Here it is important that you know that Koreans REALLY like school. So, yeah. Big deal. Lucky me! I am literally the closest thing to Kobe Bryant that my school has ever seen in terms of athletic ability. When I dove for the first time, my principal's heart may have literally stopped. Okay, now be amazed as I link volleyball to the topic of glamour.

Turns out, I got to Korea just in time to play in the ultimate Yeosu-wide volleyball showdown. Sweet. We get team jerseys for said showdown. Also sweet. Along comes a shy Korean woman on the volleyball team to explain to me the school-wide concern about me having a shirt that would fit. Direct quote: "You not fat....just...you so glamourous." Looking beyond the obvious best-news-ever (I'm not fat by Korean standards! woooot, woot!) I am told, largely via gesturing, that 'glamour' means boobs. Straight. Up. The day I learned that this indeed was the Korean interpretation of the word was the day that I started hearing that word eevvvvvverrrywhere I went. To be fair, in Korea, Calista Flockhart might be 'glamourous' by Korean standards. Cutting to the chase - the shirt they ordered me was an XL. It is shown above. It was still a crop-top when I served, blocked, hit, or breathed. Win.

Moving on from 'glamour' to 'maybe.' Basically, in Korea is means 'yes.' Pretty much absolutely, at that. Even though it is said with an upward inflection at the end. It can be terribly misleading.

"Do I have to pay my own bills?" "Maybe?"

"Can I go now then?" "Maybe?"

......shuffle awkwardly out the door.

Jeollanamdon't mind if I do!

And, while I do love Yeosu in all of it's obvious glory, I take every opportunity to explore more of the province. This is largely because at the end of a one-week orientation, I was chucked solo into Yeosu and my friends and fellow waygooks were scattered far and wide. As such, it is awesomely easy to justify weekly visits to other pockets of Jeollanamdo. By the way, family and friends from home and environs; I no longer pronounce it Jello-lando....at least when sober.

Highlights of my ventures thus far include a trip to Mokpo for some fireworks and to rub shoulders with the Mokpo's finest. The latter is meant to include the likes of my friends who live there, and also the actual police. Ahem. We then took a ferry that smelled not at all of fish to what is known as "the love island". It was there that I felt too modest to wear just a bikini and thought it necessary to wear a large piece of seaweed as a cheeky skirt.

So, I've been to some beach parties, some house parties..and a good deal of Mini Stop parties. And, while it's hard to pick favourites; the novelty of pounding back some cheap as booze in public under a parasol, while summoning Korean locals who may, or may not, be of age to join in, has not yet worn off.

Yo, Sue!

Thought I'd break the ice with the following charming display. This is a pen-holder. The necessity of which is in itself questionable. But, hey. Any excuse to have such a quaint and not at all untoward feature on display somewhere in a public place. What makes this all the better is that this was on display directly in front of the cash register at what was nothing more than a coffee and ice cream joint. Children were present. Nay. Prevalent.

So the city that I live in is a charming hamlet by Korean standards, but really it's a city of around 300, 000. So, though it is not a booming metropolis, it suits me just fine. Maybe this is because of the fine balance that it strikes by having sweet beaches (of both white and black sand) and a Korean night club that eagerly hosts my shenanigans and those of the friends that I have met here. All of whom are beyond d-o-p-e: dope, by the way.

To the left of the page you see me on MY beach. Yes. MY beach. I have written the necessary letter to the government of Yeosu and they're seeing to the name change as we speak. For now, it is called Mosageum, which I guess is cool too.

Diana vs. Technology

Blogging is difficult. It has been a week-long battle for me to even set this up. That said: hayyy you guuysss! I've been in Korea for a spell and several assaaah things have happened. I plan on telling all of my exploits via this medium. This is the best option that I have thought of for the following reasons: a) I am lazy and unreliable. It is unlikely that I would keep in touch with you all well indivudually. b) It is entirely possible that you don't even want to hear from/about me. This blog format will allow you to inform or exclude yourself at will.

Neato.