Letter to Nancy Pelosi

August 22, 2007
Daejeon, Republic of Korea

Speaker Pelosi,

I would say it has been about a year now since I first felt the tinge of excitement and anticipation that just maybe the tide of absurd neglect of reason, morals, logic and decency was beginning to ebb. From this same seat halfway around the world, I watched with childlike excitement as you and others from around the United States vowed to veer off of the path towards destruction that our country has taken over the past seven years. The feeling was almost palpable; the strength was gathering, we were right, and finally, perhaps we would win.

I look back now, and I contrast that feeling with the sense of betrayal, exhaustion, and disillusionment that I feel now, and I find it hard to believe that my side actually won in 2006. The people who were brave, bold voices for change in their campaign speeches turned out to be nothing but meager lap dogs, obsequious to the ruling oligarchy of Cheney, Inc. And you, speaker, seem to have taken the role of Alpha Female in that pack of subservient drivellers, beating the others into submission in order to bask in the warm affections of Bush et al.

Now, I did not vote for you in 2006 (I voted for Bill Winter in Colorado’s Sixth District, who unsurprisingly was stomped by card-carrying National Socialist Tom Tancredo), but I did vote for a change in my country. My choice for congressional representative did not win, but a party opposite to my dire enemies did win. And so, though you do not represent me directly, you do represent my drive for ideological change, as you are at the forefront of the opposition power. As such, your representation on that front is disappointing to the highest degree.

Let’s begin with the recent enactment of Public Law: 110-55, so quaintly known as the “Protect America Act of 2007”. This piece of legislative garbage is utterly unacceptable. I would be berating some poor Republican House Speaker about this if they still had the reigns, but the fact that I have to berate you about it really irks me. The number one reason we as America voted for you and your Democratic cohorts was so that you could halt the blatant abuse of power by the Bush Administration that went unchecked by a friendly congress. The NSA wiretapping program is of course not the only (or necessarily the most harmful) abuse of power by the Bush Administration, but it is one of the most visible and attention grabbing instances of a much wider problem. For you and your brethren to win on a ticket of halting abuse of power, and then, less than one year later, give a resounding stamp of approval to one of the most publicly visible instances of said abuse is just too much for me to handle. This new law seems to actually be more vague and grant more actual power to these scumbags than the REPUBLICAN Congress even offered. This, Nancy, is not why we voted blue in 2006.

Now, let’s talk about the big “I” word. We all know that our adventure in Mesopotamia has left all of us between and very big rock and a very hard place. I grant you that. But again, we voted for you to change what is happening there. And once again, under Democratic Congressional watch, things in Iraq did change in the last year, except in the opposite direction from where we wanted you to take them. We vote for you to limit executive power, and instead you increase it. We vote for you to limit U.S. military operations in Iraq, and you allow Team Cowboy to increase it. Is there some kind of magnetic field over the District of Columbia that causes it to be perpetual “opposite day”? You Democrats have the control over all the money that is needed to finance the war. You have the final say, and we support you in saying “NO MORE!” that’s why we voted for you. Unfortunately, you guys are like the mother of the heroin junky who just can’t seem to resist giving twenty dollars to your son, even though you know it will be used for something you are wholeheartedly against. What efforts you have made to alter Iraq policy have been wholly ineffective because they know you don’t have the willpower to cut off the money.

Finally, it’s time for the other, and more important, big “I” word. It’s time to impeach these jokers, no passing go, no questions asked. Everybody says: “we shouldn’t have gone to Iraq, but now that we’re there, what can we do?” The first thing we need to do is hold the criminals who took us there accountable. Without doing this, we could end up in an (yes, it is possible) even worse situation than we are in now. If we don’t send Cheney, Bush, and all of their minions who helped conjure up the fictitious “Iraqi Menace” straight to jail, then they will continue to conjure up the “Iranian Menace”. We need to stop this situation from spreading into an all-out regional bloodbath, not cause it to do so. Furthermore, there have been so many abuses of power, beyond the Iraq nonsense, that these jerks really need to pay for their actions. If you do not enforce the laws of your country, they carry no weight. And the most important laws to enforce are those that go to the very heart of our democracy. If order is not quickly restored to the foundations of our democratic institutions, they will lose all credibility, and be democratic in name only.

With Deepest Concern,

travis h. eddy

buddha's birthday

Despite the fact that Korea is hardly noticeably Buddhist in any respect, May 24th is a national holiday on account of the fact that it is Buddha's birthday. Prior to Wednesday (the day before the birthday), this fact was only known to me because Taylor and I had failed to attend the lantern festival for the holiday the previous weekend. Then, on Wednesday, my elementary class informed me that we would not be having class the next day. Never one to trust ten-year-olds who address me as "TEACHA!", I proceeded to ask our resident badass, Dr. Jo (the receptionist), if this was true. Turns out, it was in fact true that we had Thursday off. It also turns out that we had a mandatory picnic and work excursion planned for the day. At the time, I felt the excitement of the day off quickly negated by the existence of the work outing.

Work outings at Veritas usually consist of taking private cars to another city, and quickly boozing, no-rae-banging, eating tremendous amounts of food, and retiring to a love hotel. This outing proved to be about the same, except we were going to the mountains, where there aren't any no-rae-bangs or love hotels. But the booze and food promised to be the same. This was made clear during our stop at the grocery store on the way out of town, where we picked up, among other items, five chickens, twenty bottles of soju, one kilo of garlic and a tube of toothpaste. We were on the road.

After a two hour car ride, including the obligatory stop at a rest area for noodles*, we pulled into a seriously scenic mountain area, shrouded in misty fog. We checked in to basically a rustic hotel room, and immediately cracked into the Budweisers. After one can of beer, various grills and portable burners were placed on the floor in the middle of our seating circle, and piles of meat, mushrooms, onions, kimchi and garlic appeared instantly. It was on. Our boss's friend and family from a nearby town showed up, and his kids were the most shy of foreigners out of anyone I've met in Korea yet. We feasted on thick pieces of rarely cooked beef and beer for about forty minutes before everyone was stuffed. We had consumed about half of the meat. It was brought up that it was time for some exercise.

We romped down the hill to a scenic flat plot of land where we could play choku, which is basically volleyball played with your feet. This holiday really reminded me of either 4th of July or Labor Day, with the focus being on the combination of drinking and outdoor activities. Our Korean coworkers all proved to be surprisingly adept at the game, while I showed my utter hopelessness at kicking a soccer ball over a one meter high net. After one game, I relegated myself to drinking beer and exploring the river. Luckily, by the time I had soaked the better part of my pants by sliding into the river, it was raining pretty steadily. I opted out of the dunk into the river that most of the other men took. Everyone headed back to the room, but I had the brilliant idea that it was time to go for a hike. Of course, we needed not one, but two bottles of soju for the trail. We made it less than a kilometer up the steep, muddy ascent before sense got the better of us, and we each had two shots of soju before sliding down the mountain. I literally slid, and came home with fully saturated and muddy pants. As I had neglected to bring extra pants, my only option was to wear Taylor's pajama pants. (Despite the fact that she has had them since the fifth grade, they fit surprisingly well, aside from being about three inches short in the leg and a BIT tight in the crotch.)

The meat went back on the grill, and the beer was gone, so it was time to hit the soju hard. I don't know whose idea it was to go to the no-rae-bang, but suddenly it was a reality. I told you that there wasn't a no-rae-bang in this mountain park we were at. Three cabs showed up, and we took a twenty minute ride into the nearest large town. The table in the no-rae-bang was covered with ten cans of "Hunter" beverage, which our boss was very distressed to see us dip into. Turns out, "Hunter" is a 0.9% beverage due to local liquor laws. Luckily, Dr. Jo and Brian slipped out to a nearby convenience store to pick up three bottles of whiskey. The taxi ride home is a bit of a blur.

We got home, and the big news was that we were locked out of the room. Nobody could seem to figure out how to get in until TayTay scrambled up the balcony and saved the day. For some reason, it wasn't until we made it inside to the light that anyone, including Brian, realized that Brian was bleeding profusely from a wound above his eyebrow. There was blood, but once we got it cleaned up, Taylor, Brian and I all insisted that the lack pouring, seeping, non-stop blood, despite the fact that it was a drunken head wound, indicated that there was no need for stitches. Our boss (but not Dr. Jo) was sure that a trip to the emergency room was needed. Another taxi arrived and they went back to the town. Brian returned unsure of whether or not he had gotten stitches. I took this to mean that he hadn't.

The ride home was long and hungover. I was one of the lucky ones, considering I was able to go home, shower, and change out of Taylor's pajama pants before I had to teach on Friday night.

*Though you could drive the entire length of the country of South Korea in roughly 7 hours, every road trip, no matter how short, involves a stop at the Korean equivalent of a truck stop.

hokkaido memo vol. 2

Biei is a very small town located on the southern flank of the Daisetsu Mountains, so to get there from Asahidake, I had to take a bus down from the highlands to Asahikawa, and then hug the mountain range about 40 minutes south on a commuter train. My hostel was technically located in the town of Bibaushi, which is one stop south of Biei, and could hardly even be called a town. When I asked where I could have dinner, the owner suggested that the only place for a meal would be to head back into Biei. I checked out Bibuashi, and it turns out he was right, the "town" is a gas station, two convenience stores, and a series of houses. Into to Biei it was.

The next day, I arose early to head back into Biei to check out the promised coffee shops, galleries, and bike rides in the charming little town. The town is beautiful, there is a main street that looks straight into the mountain range. There is a small business section of small shops, cafes, etc. It's charming, and friendly, but not too touristy. It reminds me of a Hood River twenty years before all the sleek shops and fancy cafes showed up.

I stumbled into town about 9 am, a little bummed to find out that the town famed for coffee shops had only one shop that I could find, and it wasn't even open yet. Absent any obvious breakfast places, I decided to just stumble around the town for the morning. The commercial district is a nice collection of tourist and local-oriented businesses. Clothing boutiques are situated next to farm supply stores, photography galleries next to local small town restaurants.

Where the town really shows it's charm, though, is in the residential neighborhoods. The houses have a rugged, frontier quality to them. There is a tired, rusty feel to the yards, many of which contain piles of old junk. What I really love about the houses, though, is the contrast between the rough, dirty appearance of the garages and workshops against the gardens. Given that there were still drifts of snow in the shadows, the gardens were not in their full glory. However, you feel a true beauty to them, the serene Japaneseness that I had come in search of. And on my day out, it seemed to be official sowing time, with dozens of old people out turning the soil for the vegetable gardens. But the best aspect of the houses was the bonsai trees. These were usually tucked back just around the corner or inside a fence, so I couldn't get many good pictures. Just seeing them and knowing that they were there, though, was exhilarating.


After the coffee shop had opened and I got some lunch, I rented a bike and decided the make the 10km trip through the countryside to Takushinkan, a museum/gallery featuring the work of Shinzo Maeda, a famous landscape photographer who took many pictures of the region. I fought a nasty headwind the whole way out, and struggled with a bike that was just not built for people of my size. I even considered turning around at one point, but luckily shamed myself out of that poor decision. The gallery was impressive, but it was more the view of the countryside that made the trip worth the perilous wind battle. The area is known for glorious fields of lavender. Needless to say, the fields were far from purple, and were in fact only a freshly tilled brown in most areas, but it was still gorgeous, especially the patchwork with the areas that were freshly sprouted green. Of course, the ride back was no problem.

I returned my bike and headed back out to Bibaushi. I made great friends with the crew at the hostel over coffee that night. Me being the only foreigner, they of course found it very exciting to talk to me once they all got over their shyness and fear of using their impressive English skills. They all found it absolutely hilarious that I live in Korea, and insisted on having a twenty minute conversation about kimchi. This is not the first time I've heard of kimchi being funny in Japan. I don't know what could possibly be so funny about spicy, smelly fermented cabbage.

With a heightened love for the Japanese people, I left Biei early the next morning to ensure that I could secure a room for the night in Sapporo. I easily acquired a room, and soon set off to explore the town some more. I found limited success in the botanic gardens (though there were some nice Rhododendrons and Magnolias in bloom). The Ainu museum there had an interesting artifact, however.

After the garden, I cruised down into the heart of the city, to return to a bizarre store I had encountered on my first day in Sapporo. This place is the quintessential crazy Japanese store that lived up to to every stereotype I had of what a crazy Japanese store could be. The thing is five stories high, and inside it, you can purchase everything from clothing to your groceries to several varieties of breast shaped pillow to camping stoves to French Maid costumes to school supplies to ashtrays that say "no weed, no life". Needless to say, it was pretty awesome, and obviously the place where I would find a nice souvenir for Taylor. (Which it finally delivered on the fourth floor, in the form of a blue translucent plastic human head piggy bank. It was awkward to pack, but totally worth it.)

I layed low in the afternoon, rereading "To Kill a Mockingbird" in preparation for my return to teaching. Evening came, and I ventured out for one final miso ramen and maybe a light beer at "Gaijin (Foreigner) Bar". I was wrong about the second activity. Upon entering Gaijin Bar, I couldn't help but notice the presence of Dead Guy Ale in the cooler. I had to have one. The bartender informed me that if I liked that, I should try one of the special Japanese market beers that Rogue Brewery makes. Japanese labels and all. I was ecstatic when I asked the bartender what the one with the label entirely in Japanese tasted like, and she answered, strong, bitter, hoppy. Keep in mind that it had been almost three quarters of a year since I'd had an IPA. I don't know if it even would have been better had she handed me fresh bong rip of Trainwreck. Needless to say, I ended up closing the bar and spending all my money on sweet, bitter Oregon beer, not to mention chatting with the local Sapporo foreigners. I was more than a little sad to say goodbye to Hokkaido the next morning.

hokkaido memo vol. 1

For the uninitiated, Hokkaido is the northernmost island of Japan, often referred to as the "Alaska of Japan". The largest city is Sapporo, home of the beer that bears the same name. Hokkaido was only settled in the mid-19th century, so it lacks the centuries of established history found in other parts of Japan. Sapporo is laid out on an American grid system, and has the feeling of a western frontier town. The terrain of the island is rugged and mountainous, the countryside open and rolling.

I landed in Sapporo Friday afternoon and spent the hours into the evening wandering the city's central districts. There is a lovely park that runs along the north/south dividing line; I stopped briefly to enjoy the late afternoon sun slanting onto a nice fountain. The center of the Friday night action is in Susukino, a neon, flashing, pulsing district full of bars, strip clubs, and late night eateries. I wandered around for about 2 hours until my feet were beginning to ache because I was too shy to try out any restaurants. After becoming accustomed to Korean food and being able to read Korean menus, being alone in a new country where I was unable to read menus made me nervous again. After finally deciding to just go for it, I stopped in to a little curry shop with picture menus and enjoyed a nice fried pork cutlet curry dish.

After dinner, I decided to check out "Snack Team", a bar I had stumbled past several times on my wanderings. The sign outside boasted of blues/rock, and the bar did in fact deliver this. Unfortunately, I was the only patron in the bar, and things were a little awkward between the owner and myself, as neither of us was particularly fluent in the other's language. He did have an excellent blues collection, and a really nice assortment of dusty stereo equipment from the 1970's. My guy put on a very nice Buddy Guy live in Tokyo DVD, and that gave us a bit of a distraction. I sucked down three Kirin draft beers, and was a little disappointed to get the bill, which clocked in just shy of US$30. I justified it to myself by remembering that I was the poor guy's only customer all night. Cool bar though.

I woke up late Saturday morning to make a new friend in my roommate, a guy from California who is into traveling, indie rock, and philosophy. Needless to say, we had plenty to talk about. We attempted to go to the Sapporo brewery, but ended up at the old Sapporo brewery, which is now a mall. Luckily, there was a bit of an impromptu petting zoo going on the central plaza, featuring many strange animals, including a nice beaver. We finally determined that we needed to be at the new Sapporo factory, and quickly made the trek north to the actual factory. Upon arrival, we were a little disappointed to find out that we couldn't really tour the actual beer production facilities, only the "beer museum". Despite the lack of English signage, the beer museum was interesting and fairly informative. There was a very bizarre depiction of the beer brewing process using strange cartoon-like characters, and a wide array of historical Sapporo packaging and product samples.


After the tour, we stepped into the sampling room, and each went for the variety tray. We made friends with a very endearing group of folks sitting next to us, and then they bought us each a beer and snack on their way out. Having not eaten all day, we stepped out in the day squinting from the bright light and neatly buzzing. We wandered downtown and feasted on Sapporo's nearly famous miso ramen. We spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the city, checking out the parks, and just exploring. We toured a great Japanese grocery store, where we picked up a six pack of Yebisu "The Hop" tall boys, and some dinner box sets. We headed back home via the Hokkaido University campus, and found a lovely creekside bench on which to enjoy our dinners and beers. Upon arrival back at our hostel, we grabbed Kai's guitar (which he has carried for eight months from India up to Japan) and sat out on the street trading songs late into the night.

I got up early the next day and began my trek out to Daisetsuzan National Park, and Asahidake, the tallest peak in Hokkaido. I had originally been interested in camping, hiking, and perhaps even some backpacking around the peak of Asahidake, but as I neared the resort area, it became clear that the weather was more fitted to skiing than hiking and backpacking. Several meters of snow still piled up on the ground at the mountain's base. It also became clear that I had picked one of the most popular holiday weeks for domestic travel in Japan. I arrived at the resort area greeted by basically laughing faces at the two reasonably priced places to stay when I told them I didn't have a reservation but wanted a bed for the night. I grumpily decided to suck it up and try the giant, super fancy hotel across the street. I started to panic when even that place was booked up. Luckily, there was an incredibly friendly, English speaking woman at the desk who offered to call around and find me a room. The staff of this super classy lodge were more than willing to invite my sweaty, dirty, backpacked self into their reception seating area and offer me tea. The women got me a single room down the road, and I stumbled down to check in. The room ran me about US$100, but it did involve a nice dinner and a warm, private shower.

Despite the setbacks, Asahidake was a wonderful and stunning area. The mountain rose majestically in the background, and rustic log lodges dotted the snowy, forested hills. A nice little river ran through the "town", steaming from the hot mineral spring water that washed out from the many onsen (public baths). The air was clean and cold and wonderful. It was just what I needed, an open space, a tall mountain, and peopleless landscape. Having gotten my mountain fix, I left on the bus next morning and headed down to a town on the edge of the mountains.

going merry

Korea is the most homogeneous place I have ever been. Aside from being one of the most genetically homogeneous places on Earth, it is also extremely culturally homogeneous. This means every one dresses the same, acts the same, generally just fits into the flow of things. If you're a dude over 20, you constantly have a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. If you're a lady, you are constantly decked out in the latest fashion trends. There is a saying that goes "the nail that sticks up gets hammered down". Apparently so, because I've seen very few nails sticking up, especially in Daejeon.

Imagine our excitement, then, when we stumbled upon a freshly minted punk club called "Going Merry" last November. We immediately went in to see what was going on, but it turned out they weren't open yet. The dudes we talked to invited us to their opening show the following Saturday. Of course we would be there, if for no other reason to see what exactly Korean punk looks like.

As it turned out, we were at "Santa Claus", a popular western bar about a block from Going Merry the next Saturday, and we tromped down around 11:00 pm to check out the show. What we found was a long table of Koreans eating dinner and listening to Meatloaf. It was slightly awkward. This was not a show. Luckily, one of the guys was Korean-American, and explained to us that shows in Korea start around 7:30, and that we had missed the action. We stayed for a beer anyway.

My third journey into Going Merry came about three weeks ago when Taylor and I had dinner at a restaurant down the street. After a couple of glasses of wine with dinner, the NOFX blaring out of the speakers on the street convinced us that we should step in for a beer or two. We were disappointed that Punk in Drublic was not playing inside, and the bar was almost completely empty. The only other party there was a middle aged businessman and his date sitting at table littered in Heineken bottles. We got a couple of beers, and the guy working asked us if there was anything we wanted to hear. Naturally, soon he had some nice NOFX blaring for us. Soon we couldn't help noticing that the businessman's date was passed out on the table while he was having a heated discussion with someone on his cell phone. This lasted for at least 20 minutes before they took off. On our way out, we ascertained two pieces of information: 1) NOFX is playing in Seoul in April; 2) there was a show at Going Merry the next Saturday at 7:30 sharp. We would be there on time.

We got to Going Merry about 8:24, and there was an all girl band raging on stage. Their main aspect going for them was sex appeal, not quality sound or song-writing. They were brash and strong in performance, as you would suspect, but off stage, they were as shy as the stereotypical young Korean woman. The next band was a standard punk band. The final band was definitely the best of the night. They were from Seoul (as I think all the bands we saw were), and interestingly enough, had one dude who was American. About half the songs and banter were in Korean, and the other half were in English. This was actually a pretty fair ratio, considering the audience was about 60-40 foreigners (which I didn't like at first, but learned to deal with).

At the end of the show, the American guy shouted "I don't drink anymore, who's got the chronic?" He was bummed that they were heading back to Seoul immediately so we couldn't bring him back to the apartment later for a little snack. But seriously, if you are lucky enough to sniff out any dope in this country, who's going to bring it out with them?

new zealand memo - vol. 3 - street booze and music

When you travel in a group of at least 10, plus extras, the only way to roll is in a giant blue van. That goes double when a number of your crew are also carrying musical instruments. Before coming to New Zealand, Jenine had joined a bike circus for the summer and fall, in which she had traveled through Mongolia, down China, and into Southeast Asia. In China, she picked up a bazoonie (some sort of large brass instrument), and she came to Auckland with this dented, metal monstrosity and a fiendish drive for street performance. She instilled this love of busking in several folks there, which was why we had bazoonies, guitars, harmonicas, tambourines and bucket drums booming, buzzing humming, clapping and strumming as we cruised downtown in Keiran's van. I decided driving around with a live band in your car is the only way to roll.

Our destination was the opening night of the Auckland Festival, in a downtown park, where we had heard there would be a pyrotechnics show. I had spent the previous days in the depths of an infatuation with readily available and comparably (to Korea at least) cheap New Zealand wines, so I came armed with a nice Pinot Noir and Merlot/Cab blend, which seem to be two staples of NZ wines. The event was a huge gathering in an amphitheater shaped grassy bowl, mostly a family event. The word from the stage was that there were 60,000 people there. As darkness was falling, there was terribly cheesy music coming from the main stage, our buskers went out to ease those 60,000 people of their burdensome pocket change, and we were doing our best to keep our doping unnoticed by the families surrounding us. I was pleasantly ripped when the fire show started. We had all expected the show to be a fireworks show, but it was basically just an extravaganza of leaping flames and fireballs. Unlike I anything I had ever seen. The whole demonstration was set to the same terrible live band, and my favorite part was when they chilled it down, and small flames were shooting up to a solo smooth jazz sax improv solo.

After the show, 60,000 people were let loose on the streets of Auckland, with the predictable consequence that the sidewalks were packed, and your only hope was to swim with the flow of bodies, as if you were caught in a human avalanche. Luckily, Jenine was tooting away on her bazoonie the whole time, so we could all hear and rally around her when we got separated or had to dip into the bushes to water them. At one point, the crowd bottlenecked onto a bridge, and the people took over the road, blocking both lanes of traffic. The crowds persisted for what seemed like unnecessary distances.

Somehow, we reached K Road, a popular bar/porn store area just on the edge of downtown. Our plan was to get a drink at the Wine Cellar, but pretty soon an impromptu busk had self-organized itself at the intersection of the sidewalk and a covered pedestrian shopping mall. Jenine put out her sign from the circus that reads "We come from different countries. We travel the world by bicycle. Any money or food you can give us would be greatly appreciated...". Most of this was only marginally true; luckily no one pushed us on how we had gotten to NZ on our bikes. Our "busk" was more like a get together of drunken Appalachian hillbilly children than any sort of organized performance, but people stopped to watch and seemed to enjoy it anyway. Looking back, I'm slightly surprised we didn't encounter any sort of legal problems, considering we were openly drinking, and somehow my 3/4 full bottle of pinot ended up smashed on the concrete, leaving what looked like a pool of blood. Jenine's bazoonie boomed low, Jake's guitar was missing both the A and B strings, and several of us had only our clapping hands and stomping feet as instruments. Nonetheless, we had a small crowd of fans, and our hat soon filled with roughly $35, a bottle of wine, several bags of salty snack foods, and a full cooked chicken. The act may have been saved by Jenine's magic tricks.

After a good run of it, after the guitar was totally banged out of tune, and the chicken had been picked to the bones (mostly by me), we slipped into the bar right next to where we had caused the scene in order to count our loot. After splitting up the pot, we moved slowly along K Road in the direction of home, stopping at the place with the "strongest coffee in Auckland" (their espresso machine looked like something out of a steel mill), a Cuban dance club, and a gay karaoke bar. On the walk home, our guitar was out of commission, so we had to settle for singing an a capella rendition of the entire Graceland album.

new zealand memo - vol. 2 - weddingness

Possibly one of my favorite things about New Zealand is that you don't have to wear shoes to many places that you would have to in most other countries. Grocery stores, chill restaurants, it's even normal to see people tramping about on glass shard infested city streets without any sort of foot covering. So of course, when Keiran and Mayana went to get registered to marry, we all clambered into Keiran's big blue van, and he jumped in the driver's seat sans shoes. Why all 9 of us were needed to go fill out paperwork for 4 of us to marry (Hana and Jake also registered at this time) was unknown, but those of not filling out the forms to wed were eventually told to remove ourselves from our loitering spot in the lobby. Keiran's shoelessness, on the other hand, was not a problem at all.

Not that Mayana and Keiran were getting married that day; the day was Monday, and they had to wait at least three days before they could marry (some sort of "cooling off period"?). So the wedding was set for Friday morning, to be done at the legal minimum, right there in the Office of Internal Affairs.

Keiran, Sondre and I returned from our manly house building excursion on Thursday night, dusty, muddy, smelly, bloody in some places, and exhausted. Keiran and Mayana went home, but Sondre and I were dragged to a kiwi indie rock show. In retrospect, the show was totally worth going to, despite near delirium levels of exhaustion. We boozed hard and late on strong kiwi beers, watching "The Mint Chicks" play their super loud and fast brand of art rock. By the time we stumbled home, we had about four hours before we had to be up and ready for the wedding festivities. Who gets married at 9:30 in the morning, anyway?

There was a celebratory breakfast downtown before we formed a small procession to the Internal Affairs Office. The bridesmaids were all in impromptu costumes of short skirts and/or shorts, with knee high striped colorful socks. Keiran was barefoot in his best black shorts and a nice black button up shirt. Mayana had a long black dress accentuated by a bright orange netting veil. Sondre and I were the boring ones, dressed in nearly normal attire. We paraded in a line two-by-two through the morning downtown Auckland buzz, singing "Going to chapel, and we're gonna get married" at high volumes.

Luckily, the Internal Affairs Office was nearly empty at this hour, so the scene we caused there didn't upset too many innocent bystanders. We were all invited to "the chapel", which was basically a conference room in the corner of the office. A very nice woman came in to officiate the service. The vows went something like this: "I, Keiran Donnely, see no legal impediment to this marriage taking place...". I was getting a bit cynical about the dryness of the whole proceedings, until I saw the look in Keiran and Mayana's eyes, and realized that as silly and goofy as this spectacle was, it really was a representation of their love. And that's cool. If you are a goofy person, you absolutely should have a goofy (or at least unorthodox) wedding. What would have been truly ridiculous would have been for these two to get married in some kind of super planned, formal, traditional wedding in a large church, with a long white dress, mountains of flowers, long church service, etc. No, no, no, for this kind of love, only a 9:30 am, barefoot, striped stocking, conference room wedding would do.

After the verbal service was completed, there was the all-important and romantic signing of the documents, which we all watched with the same fascination as the service. There was even some audience participation on this one, as two witnesses were needed to sign the documents. After this was completed, our marriage officiate congratulated the couple, and left the room. Seeing as we were apparently free to use the room for some period of time longer, we did the only reasonable activity we could, and had an extensive photo shoot with all the fun props in the room.
After leaving the Internal Affairs office, we climbed back into the blue van, which had been haphazardly covered in "just married" regalia, and drove off into the sunset.

new zealand memo - vol. 1 - moving to the bush

If you would have asked me four years ago about my life goals, I probably would have talked your ear off about building a simple home somewhere in New Zealand, and sustaining my own life, isolated from the destructive systems of contemporary society. Lofty goal, indeed, and one that I have since tweaked, reconsidered, bordered on abandoning, etc. Not that I don't still in principle agree with the idea that I should play no supporting role in current agricultural, social, and political practices, I'm just not as sure that moving to the bush and ignoring it all is the proper way to solve our problems as I used to be. I still believe the most important practice to pursue in life is relying more on yourself and less on destructive practices, but I now think that you need to do this in a city, not isolated in the wilderness.

But this memo is not about my beliefs on the topic, rather it is about my experiences with someone who holds my former beliefs, and is actually pursuing them. Keiran is the real deal. He is currently building his simple home in the bush, where he will live with minimal impact on the earth, and for the most part not contributing to the trouble the rest of us are causing.
Keiran picked up a 47 acre parcel of land about two hours north of Auckland for the astonishing price of NZ$65,000. The property is surrounded by cleared pasture land, but has itself been left for about 30 years, and has subsequently returned to bush (causing the government to put a ban on clearing it for sheep pasture, and the reason it was so affordable.)

I had the pleasure of accompanying Keiran out to work on his home for a couple of days. He, Sondre (sp?) and I clambered into his big blue van on a wet early morning and made the trek north through horrendous morning rush hour Auckland traffic. The land we traveled through was once covered by massive Kauri forests, only small pockets of which still remain. (For the record, Kauri trees are probably the most amazing trees I have ever seen.) Keiran's land was once covered in Kauri's but now sustains more modest recently regrown forest. Even so, it's amazing how much the forest can return in roughly 30 years.


We passed through the nearby town of Paparoa, and then traveled about 12 km down gravel road to a small driveway off to the side. From here, Keiran's property spills down the hillside, fills in a boggy marsh at the bottom, and then climbs up the opposite ridge. The surrounding terrain consists of nice rolling hills. The house site sits about about a three minute scramble down from the road. The building is completely un-permitted, but by far the lowest impact building site I have ever been to. All the materials and tools are carried in by hand, all digging is done by hand, and the house lies tucked right into the surrounding trees. If you get more than 10 m away from the house, it totally disappears into the forest.

It's amazing to see a house actually being built the way I have imagined doing it so many times. I am usually skeptical of people with high-minded talk of just going out and building a house in the wo0ds (including myself), but Keiran is extremely serious and definitely knows what he's doing. In two months of working by himself one or two days a week, he has framed the entire house, and almost completed the second story flooring. The house is modest size, one big room downstairs, with a kitchen coming off the side, and then a large room upstairs. It looks fantastic; Keiran is using whatever building materials (recycled or otherwise) he can easily come across, but the house doesn't have the hodge-podge look that projects like that tend to take on. All the water will be collected from the roof of the house and nearby shed, and the gray water will be used for the garden. Cooking will be done on a wood burning stove, and solar panels will provide small amounts of electricity. This is going to be bush living in its pure form.

We started working as soon as we got there. Keiran was working on framing the kitchen off to the side of the main room, and Sondre started putting weather boarding (walls) on the frame. Due to limited tools, we couldn't all work on carpentry projects, so I was given tasks working on the land, which was quite suiting to me. My first job was to survey and cut out a new, less steep trail to the building site. The existing trail is quite steep in spots, and not suitable for carrying down some of the larger items that will come later. It took basically the entire first day for me to scope out a suitably graded path and the cut it out from the bush using the machete. The end result then required a serious amount of hand digging to level it out. I had leveled about a 2 m patch when darkness fell and we had to quit for the day. Dinner consisted of a delicious salad , complete with venison sausage, washed down with about half a bottle of cheap red wine. We were in bed before 10 pm. Due to tent problems, "bed" consisted of the three of us curling up in the back of the van. I had been extremely skeptical of the feasibility of this project, but was happily surprised by how miraculously it ended up working out.

Day two consisted of the guys continuing their respective projects, while I worked on a new drainage ditch for the freshly cut driveway. My entire body was burning when Keiran announced that we'd be quitting early (5 pm), taking a walk, and then heading home. Even so, I was severely disappointed that I had not been able to fully complete the ditch. Keiran took us for a tour of the property, including the original house site, which was across the valley on the far hill, and would have been a disaster to get materials to. Keiran has eventual plans of building a community in those trees, with other families moving in, a community building, and even an internet cafe at the top of the hill where you can get cellular reception. I hope to return to NZ to see how his dreams shape up.

korean health care

First of all, I have now completed my sentence of doom in the Veritas Winter Intensive Program. By the time it was all said and done, I was actually sad to say goodbye to my kids on Wednesday. Most of them I will see in a week and a half, so that's no big deal, but many of them are moving on to high school and will no longer be attending my classes. Those were the hard goodbyes, especially one of my favorite, hard working students, Gaigurina. (Only her nickname, it roughly means "frog princess".) She was crying for about twenty minutes at the front desk, and when I tried to cheer her up, I only started crying too. Working like a machine for two months really sucks, but it also really makes you form strong bonds with those you share the experience with.

Anyway, the point of my story involves the fact that my last day of intensives coincided with the resurgence of a strange and powerful disease that I have been battling for the past 40 days. The symptoms come and go, and I am never full-blown ill, but I often wake up in the night not being able to breath. But just as this entry is not about my crying students, it's also not about me trying to get sympathy, so I will leave the description of my illness where it stands.

The point of this entry, if you are wondering at this point, is the excellency of the Korean health care system. In Korea, you don't need health insurance, because the government subsidized health care is astoundingly affordable. They are even happy to extend the gift to foreigners who are legally living and working in the country. I trucked down to the medical clinic about two blocks from my house today, and was greeted by smiling nurses. I handed over my Alien Registration Card, and there weren't even any forms to fill out. Before I had read half a page in my book, I was whisked in to see a doctor who spoke close to perfect English. He was not particularly impressed with my symptoms, and mostly was concerned about whether I had anything "coming up from the throat". After explaining that I was also experiencing nausea, he wanted to know if I had anything "coming up from the stomach". I didn't have to strip down and put on a gown, he just listened to my heart and breathing by lifting up my shirt (actually, the nurse lurking around unnecessarily assisted me in holding my shirt up). We just had a chat, as makes sense, without any of the bullshit you get in an American doctor's office.

He ended up writing me a hefty regiment of drugs (no antibiotics), and I was sent on my way less than 20 minutes after I arrived. My bill for the visit came out to less than $7, and I was able to pick up my prescription in the basement of the same building for about $11 (for three days worth of six different pills). Even with health insurance in the U.S., my bill would have been at triple what I paid here. The woman in the pharmacy spoke a little English, and said she felt bad that my prescription was "very expensive". I told her it was no big deal.

At this point, you're probably wondering how much of my teaching salary is being deducted to pay for this incredible system. The answer is: I pay 5% income tax, and that is the rate for everyone in my income bracket, not just foreigners. There's no sales tax in Korea. I suspect that property taxes must be high, but I have no evidence to back this up. I have absolutely no idea how the government affords to ensure everyone gets reasonable health care at reasonable prices, but I think it's wonderful. I think this is worth looking into, especially because today's New York Times reports a majority of Americans are demanding a solution to the dismal state of medical services in "the most prosperous nation".

My next entry will probably be from the summer climate of New Zealand. I can't fucking wait.

reflections on the korean landscape

Korea is not, strictly speaking, one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. It's mountainous and pleasant, but not in a jaw-dropping, stunning way that parts of the world can be. The scenery is scaled, not fantastic. The mountains are small. The rivers are, for the most part, calm, and you can almost always see some evidence of human existence.

But it's nice to look at. Especially through the window of a moving train. The land kind of folds out around you in a calm, comfortable way. Although you can take a bullet train that will often exceed 200km/h, I've come to prefer the slow train. This is not only for the added reading time, but also for the more accessible view. The major mountains cut north-south along the eastern side of the peninsula, so the trip to Busan (on the southeast corner) is more scenic than the trip to Seoul (in the northwest corner, tucked right in near the DMZ).

Today, however, was a good day for a train ride home from Seoul. This was maybe the third time I have seen fog in Korea, but the hazy air created an interesting feel to the landscape. At first I thought that it reminded me of the Pacific Northwest, but I soon realized it was completely different (and that I was just home(kind of)sick.) For instance, fog in the mighty Columbia Gorge hides or partially masks a dramatic landscape of immense basalt outcroppings, equally immense douglas fir, and magical spraying waterfalls. In Korea, there is nothing so spectacular lurking in the clouds. The fog rather gives a quiet, almost sad feel to the landscape. This is not to say that you can't get a little sad rolling northeast on highway 199 in late November, passing quiet small towns and smoke clouds billowing out the chimneys of school buses-turned-homes. But that is a rugged, cool sadness; a visual expression of the struggle to forge an existence in that towering, wet wonderland. As if a landscape could single handedly demonstrate the character of the Stamper family. In Korea, there is no formidable nature to stand up against, and what there is has been conquered and incorporated into human existence.

Cutting across the northeast corner of the Republic of Korea in a thick fog is like combining the scenery outside of Newark, NJ with the soft, weathered mountains of northern New South Wales. There are rivers. And there are mountains. And there are forests. But there are also many, many factories. Many sites housing enormous pieces of industrial trash; just the kind of iron and steel graveyard that fascinated me as a child. The fog clinging to a sweeping river valley partially obscures the view of a huge, windowless building, itself pushing out clouds of some kind of vapor, which immediately melts into the mist. The factory is not new (has anyone every seen a new, shiny factory? One that doesn't look rusty and heavy with the weight of the world?). And there is a town surrounding the factory. It is not new either. The houses are of the tile-roof, classic east-Asian style, but the roof is more often made of faux-tile corrugated metal. The buildings don't match, and the town looks like it just kind of happened there. Around every bend, or after every tunnel, it's a different factory and town, and the space in between that isn't too steep is all devoted to cascading rice fields. In early February, all the trees are without their leaves, and all the rice fields are a dead brown. Especially in the fog, it all comes together to make you feel quiet, sad, lonely, tired.

When you live in the ritzy part of a young and rapidly developing city, it is easy to think that everything in Korea is tall, new buildings that seem to go up in a matter of weeks, pretty girls in short skirts, and shiny cars. It's not, as a foggy train ride clearly demonstrates. Prosperity is a recent phenomenon, and definitely not one that applies to everyone. The landscape mentioned above shows the recent manufacturing basis of the Korean economy. The forests are not tall or mature, a mix of pine and deciduous trees. A testament to the fact that most of the entire peninsula was flattened and burned in the 1950's.

The foggy air blanketing the huge rusty buildings, small mountains, and low trees doesn't strike you with awe, but it definitely inspires emotion and thought. And that's really what a good landscape does, anyway.

makoli and escorts

One interesting difference between teaching in the US and Korea is the attitude towards discussion of teacher recreation with your students. It is perfectly permissible to discuss boozing in front of and/or with your middle school students (within reason, of course (i.e. it's okay to say "I drink soju", but I tend to shy away from mentioning things like "So I suddenly I found myself in a taxi with some Irish dude at 7:30 in the morning.")). So it wasn't a problem that Brian (the crazy guy depicted in the last blog) was telling the entire school we were going out for makoli on Friday night. (Makoli is fermented rice milk, about 6% alcohol, and costs about $1 a liter.) We thought it was a little different when Brian was boozing a tall boy in the hallway on our way out when a bunch of kids from the hagwon next door came rushing out. Our fellow teachers and boss assured us that it was totally chill.

Soon enough, we were neck deep in makoli and questionable side dishes. Makoli is always served from a purposefully dented copper kettle, and you drink it by the bowl-full. The taste is not nearly as objectionable as you might guess. The side dishes were a truly new experience (even after almost 5 months in Korea), and included raw cow liver and stomach, and what was described as chicken "pieces" (very cartilageneous). We were all soon ripped to the gills, and moved on to the next spot.

"The next spot" was a No-Rae-Bang (for new readers, karaoke room) next door. Now, I'd always heard about hiring "girls" when you go to the no-rae-bang, but had only had a moderate encounter with this. We walked straight into a room full of eight women in short skirts. This encounter didn't last long, however, as my boss barked several phrases in Korean, and soon we were back on the street. Once outside, he declared that those girls were too "homely". I couldn't really argue with him.

We dipped into a billards hall to play a game. Korean people love to booze, but the one place you would think would be a booze house (the pool hall) is actually alcohol free. It was about 10:30, we were all shredded, and everyone else in the hall was a serious and sober pool fiend. I don't think our presence was appreciated. I was on a team against our boss, and soon he was talking shit about $100 being taken out of our pay check if we lost; a bit of a wager. After I sunk the 8 ball, the obvious question was "when will I get my hundred bucks?" The answer was that it would come out of my fellow employees' (his teammates) paychecks. As we were walking out, a strange song began playing in my head:

The Story of Donn-i the Daegu Dude

forty bucks
forty bucks
too much to pay
for a love hotel
in this town

gyeongju
two thousand years old
a city but sooo cold
and the round hills rolled
over the old dead kings

fourteen kilos of raw oyster
and seasnail
good for health
washed down in soju

no-rae-bang
whiskey splash beer
the girl so awkward
next to taylor
at the end of the table like
snoop dogg

forty bucks
forty bucks
too much to pay
for a love hotel
in this town

The song faded away as we snuck into another no-rae-bang. We went into a room that was girl-less, and started singing. A pack full of girls was sent in after not too long, but of course Donn-i sent them away, demanding a less "homely" bunch. I was halfway through "Dancing in the Dark" when the second group showed up. I had imagined that the girls just kind of came in and hung out with the group of dudes. Not quite how it works. Everybody gets their own girl, who sits with you, talks to you (awkward when this just involves her talking at you in Korean), hands you your drink, and dances with you when you sing. Extremely odd and interesting.

There was much Korean singing, wasting, and I even tried my hand at a Skid Row tune I hadn't heard in ten years. All of a sudden, our time was up, all the girls darted out of the room, and it was time for us to go. We were all about ready to go by this point, and one of our party had even slipped out to nap on a bench in the hallway.

Brian and I headed downtown in a cab with the deskman. We were ecstatic about the fact that he might join us at the western bars. No such luck, he cut us loose and headed home. I ended up at SugarWatermelon, packed in against the Koreans. At least I made it home before 7:30 in the morning.

one down

One of my best students has been in the hospital all week with pneumonia. She blames the illness almost exclusively on our hagwon, but apparently she wants to do her homework while she's there. In a show of unfortunate timing, the above photo was posted on our school page the day before we found out Yoon Hee was in the hospital. The funny thing is, nobody (including hospital girl) seems even the slightest bit offended or upset.

You can't make this shit up.

caffeine and kyul

I know that bloggers who fail to post at least once a week lose their audience. I know this specifically because I have bailed on many a blogger who couldn't keep their shit together. So it is with great dismay that I now realize it has been multiple weeks since my last post. Happy New Year, Holidays, christmas, Kwanza etc. to all. I at least have an intense excuse for neglecting my blog duties in this holiday season. One word sums it up: intensive.

Intensive sessions are what Korean kids do on their winter vacation. Instead of going to their regular school all day, they come to hagwons all day. I think that the hagwon schedule is actually quite a bit more rigorous than the public school schedule, so vacation for Korean kids is actually during the school year.

This is not to say that the intensive schedule is easy for teachers. It is very, very far from easy. Since our regular term ended on December 29, I have been working upwards of 13 hour days everyday, including Saturdays and Sundays. Not that I'm actually teaching that whole time, I only teach from 8:00 am to 7:00 pm Monday through Friday. But Veritas (my employer) has a reputation as the most prestigious hagwon in Daejon, so we've got serious standards to keep up. This includes writing and producing the necessary materials to push my students near the edge of insanity on a daily basis. Daily quizzes, memorization, hours of homework, and handouts, handouts, handouts. If the kids aren't moaning in agony every second of class, the parents call and complain, because that's what they're paying for.

More about how hard we push our students. Last Friday (end of Week 1), our boss came into the office and announced the disgrace that our middle school kids were going to bed before midnight. His exact wording for this was that it was "unprecedented". We all got a scolding for not assigning enough homework. The same day, we also later received a scolding because no parents had yet called to complain that we were assigning too much homework. The students attend 4 hours at our hagwon everyday, and at least that much at other hagwons. On the average, they receive at least one hour of homework per hour of class. In reality, probably much more than that. But, if we don't drive them crazy, we lose our standing as top dog in Daejon. Here's the kicker: my co-worker told me that last winter intensive ten or our students went to the hospital (I'm assuming for stress and exhaustion-related conditions). That's bad enough, but the point he was trying to make was that that was how we got our excellent reputation.

Now, how the teachers work. First of all, we beefed up our teacher force by about double. Our office was already ass-to-ankles, but now it's ass-to-ass-to-ankles. Two of the imported teachers are living with our boss, one of them sleeping on his floor. Not that they ever really go there; as far as I can tell, they are at the hagwon from about 6:30 to 4:00 am every day. If you can imagine not only prepping and teaching all these classes, but grading the intense amounts of homework we are giving our roughly 400 students every day, it makes sense that 20 hour days are necessary. So far, I've escaped the worst of it, and am managing a luxurious 6-7 hours of sleep per night. Some of the ones that aren't sleeping are slowly slipping into deep delirious dementia. We are officially living on high doses of kyul (mandarin oranges) and caffeine.

When it gets late and we are still working, and starting to get really crazy, sometimes the joke comes out that we will be the first hagwon to kill a student with homework. Doesn't seem actually possible, but this is the country where multiple people have died from video games. I'm serious. Imagine what that kind of publicity could do for our reputation.

signing off from official insane-o world.

the role of intellectuals in the dumbening of america

I am willing to admit that I took a certain amount of snobbish joy in writing the essay on the dumbening of America. What is truly a depressing topic somehow brought joy to me as I wrote about it. Of course, that's why you choose to write about whatever you write about. A journalist who writes about the horrors of war in Africa can feel good about their writing because they have related important information to the world. And while I know a good deal of my joy in the "dumbness" piece comes from this, I worry that some of it comes from something deeper and more sinister. There is that lurking overwhelming sense of pride in the fact that I am not a dumb American.

Intellectuals have always celebrated their lives apart from most of humanity. Traditionally, European intellectuals were always from the privileged classes, scorning the silly masses. And though today's American intellectuals (in theory) represent all races and classes, I wonder if this better-than-you mentality is not only present, but also dangerous to American society.

Being an intellectual is always tragic; there is inevitably the sense of having battled against some adversarial force. This adversary is most commonly the society of idiots who just won't let the intellectual be themselves. But despite their complaining about this, I think there is a certain thread in the intellectual tradition that needs this opposition. There is a sense that one's greatness only exists in measure to the relative stupidity of those around you. If America (or the world) stopped being dumb, where would the intellectuals be? They'd be the same as everyone else. This is what they (we) all espouse to support, but could they (we) really stand the scenario of not being the smartest kid in the classroom anymore?

What I'm getting at is that I say I wish everyone read the New York Times every morning, but I secretly take pleasure in the fact that I am one a small number of people who actually do read the New York Times every morning. I wish that Fox News didn't exist, but I feel self-important knowing (and saying) that it is bullshit. The Daily Show is what I consider the pinnacle of television, yet it's entire premise is laughing at (and thus enjoying?) America's descent into dumbness. Is this smart, cynical attitude somehow responsible for the stupidity?

It would be very difficult to draw a direct causal connection. However, intellectuals make no secret of their attempts to cordon themselves off from the world. I am currently in a state of near personal crisis regarding my decision whether or not to attempt to enter the tower of academia. It's a wonderful, enlightened place, but the hoops are so high, and the people are so snobby, I don't know if it's worth it. This is where the partitioning of society begins. Those with PhD's scorn those without them, when in truth, being granted one is based on about 43% skill and 57% popularity contest. Being the brightest is definitely an exclusive club, and I wonder if that attitude among our best educated somehow contributes to America's dumbness.

Certainly the intellectual snobbishness doesn't aid in achieving a truce in the culture war, but does it really contribute to the stupidity of those in the other trenches? Is there something about the way that we say "everyone should listen to NPR" that makes the masses prefer Fox News? Could we be subconsciously doing this on purpose?

I certainly fucking hope not, because I feel that I honestly, sincerely believe it when I say that everyone should listen to NPR and read the New York Times. Sure I take pride in the fact that I do these things, but I don't think I would take any less pride if everyone else did them too. I take pride in doing them simply because it is the right thing to do. Doing the right thing doesn't feel any less good if everyone else is doing it. It's fun to be the smartest kid in the class, but it's also much more fun to be in a class full of smart kids than a class full of idiots.

the dumbening of america

My boss asked us all to write an essay for him. Thought I might as well post it.

When recent polls show that a clear majority of Americans now believe we should not have invaded Iraq, the obvious question is “where were these people four years ago?” How is it possible that most Americans could see the Iraq war as the scam it was/is only after four years of blood, bombs, and billions of dollars in defense spending? I believe we are dealing with an American public that has been and continues to be severely “dumbened” by its government and media. The deterioration of the public school system, focusing on standardized test scores, and not on critical thinking skills is the first cause of this problem. The second is a media that increasingly insists on breaking the world and its complexities into simple, fast thirty-second segments.

The intellectual decline of America is a significant issue not only for myself and my country of origin, but for the entire world. Due to the global dominance of the United States, the stupidity of the American public can have consequences for all nations and peoples. The Iraq war is the most prominent reminder of this fact. Many Americans do not consider issues and events in any detail, or with any analysis, often failing to perceive the connections between actions and circumstances. They have very little knowledge of or interest in the complex factors that create the world we live in. In a democratic system, a country of shallow thinkers is poorly equipped to pick qualified leaders. When that country is a world super-power, the situation has global effects.

A public education system that increasingly ignores the teaching of critical thinking plays a lead role in America’s declining intelligence. Education in the United States has fallen behind worldwide standards, largely due to lack of funding. The solution to this problem has been to implement a system of monitoring schools based on standardized test scores. This leads to a situation where teachers must focus on preparing their students for the barrage of multiple-choice tests taken on a yearly basis. The problem with this approach is that standardized tests by nature cannot gauge critical thinking skills. Thus, teachers do not teach critical thinking skills, because they are not part of the standardized testing regiment. A whole generation of Americans now has memorized facts where their ability to think, question, make inferences, and see connections should be.

While the education system affects only the youth, the U.S. media makes idiots out of Americans of all ages. Most Americans no longer get their news from print (or written) media, opting instead for the speed and sheen of television. While television is not inherently bad as a media, in practice, television news is over simplified, sensationalized, and sped up to a dizzying pace. Television news usually gives multifaceted issues and events a simple treatment in a thirty-second clip, before moving on to the next story. In addition to simplification, television news fails its viewers in terms of content. Important stories that actually affect peoples’ lives are ignored, while inconsequential but sensational stories are headlines. The result is an American public that thinks in simple terms about current events, while often being completely ignorant of an important event’s occurrence or significance.

Thus, Americans are being “dumbened” by their public school system and media. This is troubling not only because of American power in the world at large, but also because of America’s influence on global culture. Will the entire world follow the U.S. down the road to idiocy?

seoul

It's no secret that teachers expose themselves to an unusually high amount of infection causing bacteria and viruses. Every time one of my students coughs or sneezes, I cringe and try to hide behind my podium. Unfortunately, these high-tech attempts at disease control appeared to have failed miserably, as I was made miserable two weeks ago by some sort of Asian super-cold. Rather than stay home and nurse myself the first weekend I came down with the illness, I was whisked away on a weekend trip to Gyeongju and Daegu by my boss. (A journey so bizarre it could only be related through some sort of Pynchonesque story-within-a-song-within-a-story in some future post.) By last Friday, I was producing green phlegm in silver-dollar-sized dollops. However, once again, it was time to travel, so instead of resting, I hopped a bullet train for Seoul.

Now, everyone is grumpy when they are sick, but I have a very special talent of insisting on doing something (like traveling to Seoul), and then having a bad attitude about it the entire time because I'm sick. As you may have guessed, negative attitudes tainted much of our trip.

There's nothing in principle, or in practice, to dislike about Seoul right off the bat; it's big, exciting, happening, and easy to navigate. That said, stepping off the train from Daejon in Seoul Station is much like arriving in Grand Central Station fresh from Portland. The speed of the city astounds you so much that you feel everyone around you can literally see your eyes bugging out of your face. I felt like a country bumpkin peeling and eating my mandarin oranges (kyul) in the packed and crammed subway line. Of course, the shock and awe wears off as soon as you've completed your first successful multi-line subway trip without incident.

Our first destination was Dongdaemoon, the east gate market district. I love markets, and was hoping for some crazy-exciting wares that cannot be found at the Joongangno market in Daejon. It was a real shame that poor planning brought us to Dongdaemoon right as the final rays of light were disappearing from the sky, the bitter dry chill was setting in, and the marketeers were shutting down for the evening. As an unfortunate side note, what we did see of the market seemed to indicate that it contains exactly the same cheap goods peddled in Joonangno, just more of them. By the time we were getting back on the subway, I was already making snide comments like "I don't even know why we came here."

The next stop was Itaewon, the "Little America" of Seoul. Already, we had been seeing far more westerners than we are used to, and feeling a little off put by it. But Itaewon, whoa, that place is foreigner central. Some things are annoying, like the hordes of silly white people (in no small part due to its proximity to a major US army base), but many others things were very cool and refreshing. Examples include an all black hair saloon, and a rocking English bookstore. We had a delicious (if extremely expensive) Greek dinner before it was about time to leave Itaewon.

Hongdae is the really cool district of Seoul; it is the happening University area, where bars, shops, and art schools all combine for a hip neighborhood. Taylor was ecstatic to finally see stenciling in Korea. (I am slightly suspicious that most of the stencils were Westerner-made, though Taylor disagrees with me on this point. Unsurprisingly, not our only disagreement of the trip.) Luckily, Ben X happened to be in the neighborhood, where he was working on shooting a short movie with a gay Venezuelan filmmaker he had met in a Spanish chat group. He was able to walk us down the main strip of Hongdae, but it was Taylor who spotted "Bar Da", an inauspicious second floor bar with a seemingly secret entrance. It was extremely small but cool inside. I felt like I was back in Portland. One of the bartenders was even wearing what seemed to be a self-modified sweater. My favorite thing about Bar Da was the shoe-box size diorama of the bar built into the bar wall. (Man I'm a sucker for that kind of thing.)

When it was time to sleep, we slipped into a Ben X recommended jim jil bang (previously called a "jil jil bang"). You may know these as the public baths, but there are also sleeping accommodations, which involve one large room with hard floors that you sleep in with a bunch of clothed (or unclothed) dudes (or ladies). Did I mention I was suffering from a cold? This was not my ideal sleeping arrangement. But, in order to fulfill my ongoing desire to make the world (or at least Taylor) as miserable as me, I decided to assent to staying there so I could complain about it later. Not that I was lacking in things to complain about. The dark communal sleeping room had hard floors, and tough leather pillows. There were only three dudes in there when I crawled into bed around two, and I thought "this could work". That soon changed. Soon the room was full of (mostly) drunk, snoring Koreans, about thirty of them. I finally drifted off around four, only to wake up about five to find that the room's population had nearly doubled, and that I was centimeters away from being spooned by a half-naked Korean man. And I had to piss. I knew that as soon as I got up, my space and pillow would be devoured by the wall-to-wall sleeping mass, so I didn't even bother going back upstairs to the sleeping room. Instead, I opted to try passing out on the floor of the well-lit locker room, as roughly 15 other dudes had already done. I don't think I was drunk enough to achieve that task. By the time Taylor and I met at our appointed time of ten a.m., I was really, really salty, and looking to take it out on someone. (As a pleasant side note - my sleepless hours gave me plenty of time to boil away in the tubs, which actually helped clear out my sinuses and bronchial tubes.)

Our morning was expectedly filled with snappy comments and fights on the quarter hour. This was inflamed by the fact that the Western breakfast place we tried to go to (which, incidentally, is run by the US army) was closed. We didn't have the energy (or resolve) to battle our way through Itaewon again so early in the morning, so we had to bail on our coveted Western breakfast. We instead headed to Korea's version of a fake colonial town where you buy "authentic" souvenirs, Insadong. In retrospect, it was actually a pretty cool place, but Christmas shopping was about the only activity I felt could make me more miserable than I already was. Finally, Taylor dumped me in a Starbucks with a copy of the International Herald Tribune, and set out on her own.

It was actually a kind of blessing that our train tickets home were only available in separate seats. This allowed Taylor to make a new Korean friend, who is in the army, and thus needs a place to stay over the weekends, who will be joining us in our home for Christmas Eve. By the time this was relayed to me as we got off the train in Daejon, I was so burned out on being in a bad mood that I couldn't even come up with any nasty comments to make.

moon base

So, we're going to build a base on the moon. Awesome. Now, I'm about as stoked on science and understanding the universe as they come. And I have to admit that it just sounds really fucking cool to say "Yeah, we've got a base on the moon." And of course, the moon is the best place to try out our hand at space colonization. So yeah, there's a part of me that says "Go moon base!"

However, if I think about the moon base for more than 87 seconds, the glitter and coolness starts to wear off, and reality starts to sink in. The moon? I'm pretty sure there's not much going on there. At least not much that humans need to be around for. Like I said, I'm all about research, but I think robots can tell us most of what we need to know about the moon, or Mars for that matter, for about half the cost. But I don't think this action is about research. I think some people think that we can/should set up viable colonies on the moon, and then Mars. Again, of course this appeals to the 8-year-old boy in all us, who would love to run around in moon boots and chase Martians. But well, we're not 8 anymore, and despite how cool it sounds, there is absolutely no reason for people to live on the moon. There isn't even an atmosphere on the moon, much less water*, plants, ecosystems, etc., all of which we need to survive. Also, I don't understand what people think the moon has that we want. Not only is the moon useless to use as real estate, it's a real hassle to live there. It's like Arizona without water, air, or regulated temperature. In other words, hell, but worse.

One argument I've heard for colonizing space is that we're going to have to, because we are destroying our own planet so quickly. I agree that we are making Earth an uninhabitable place for humans, but I really don't think the moon and/or Mars is the answer. As it stands, we will really have to do some serious damage in order to make Earth harder to live on than Mars. My opinion is, since it will cost astronomical amounts of money to move to space, can we instead just not ruin our planet? I really don't think it will be that hard. Certainly easier than building a new civilization on the red planet.

The biggest argument I have with myself on this issue is trying to imagine myself as a 15th century European flat-earther. Am I just lacking in imagination? Is space really a great place for us to live, I just can't seem to conceive of it properly? I've decided no, I am not being closed minded in my assessment of space colonization. In the time of European trans-Atlantic exploration, people didn't know exactly what they were going to find, but they were pretty sure it was something they would be interested in. They knew it would be be land with viable resources and food production potential, and/or convenient transportation passages. In contrast, we aren't sure what the moon has for us, but we know enough to know it's not really anything that we need. You can't grow anything there. Any resources that happen to be there would be way too expensive to ship home. And I'm pretty sure there aren't any moon people for us to enslave.

I think what this is really about is that pesky little inconvenience we know as the military-industrial complex. Lockheed-Martin is already scheduled to make a bundle of money building the new human cargo space-craft. You can bet they will also stand to run away with a sack of money on this whole moon base scheme. What the government thinks we really need, more than a base on the moon, is for their buddies in the defense industry to get big business in government contracts. This isn't about going to the moon, it's about somebody making huge profits building the equipment that will take us to the moon. I recently accidentally ran across this graph of NASA funding, which shows a very substantial jump in 2001. Does it just happen that space exploration is the one area of science Bush is not opposed to? No, NASA is inextricably linked to the military-industrial complex.

Finally, my major concern with the moon base is not that it is bad in and of itself. No, even if useless for colonization, a moon base would still be cool. My concern is the opportunity cost. There are LOTS of people in the United States who do not have health care. There are many people who are much worse off than this. Our social security system is about to crash. Our public schools are rapidly deteriorating due to piss-poor funding. And that's the reason we can't afford another couple hundred billion dollars on pet projects for the defense industry. A moon base would be cool, I guess, but universal health care, a functioning public school system, an end to homelessness, and I don't know, maybe legitimate combat of AIDS in Africa would be pretty cool too.

*Turns out, there might be water there, which we would use for oxygen (for breathing) and hydrogen (for fuel). The feasibility of this is questionable.

political turmoil

While the world is still bitching and moaning about North Korea, by far the most consistent and continuing news story in South Korea is the ongoing FTA negotiations with the United States. I found it particularly of note when I read a news article back in the middle of October about the fact that the National Police force was sending 10,000 "troops" to the fourth round of FTA talks. I mean, I know that Free Trade Agreements are not popular around the world, but seriously, 10,000 policemen? This in a country where laws seem to just be abided by, despite the visible lack of any kind of police presence. I see a police car on the street maybe once every three days. If you would have asked me, I would have been surprised that there even were 10,000 police officers in the country. Yet, all the plant stores leave their merchandise outside all night long, and no one steals it. I couldn't imagine what they thought the FTA protesters would do.

As it turned out, on the second day of talks, the protesters stormed the fortified compound where the talks were taking place, managing to tear down a shipping container and hospitalizing several police officers. I talked about this incident with my students, telling them I was surprised, considering how mild mannered, polite, and law abiding I had found Koreans to be. My students were not surprised. I now realize why they were not surprised. Since then, violent FTA protests have occurred at least twice a week, all across the country. In Seoul, there are major labor protests almost every day. Some of these target the FTA, others are for completely unrelated reasons. It seems universally known that protesters bring sharpened bamboo spears to every protest, and pictures of black masked people lighting buildings on fire seem commonplace in the newspaper. How is it that a society I find to be so respectful of the law can have this continuous violence?

The answer I have gotten is that it is related to Korea's semi-recent political situation. If you have only been alive since the early 1980's (as I have), you weren't alive for the huge political turmoil that characterized this country from the 1960's to the early 1980's. I still know very little about this period of Korean history, save that there were military coups, assassinations, extremely repressive military regimes, etc. So, even though South Korea has had a period of political stability and economic growth for the past twenty-odd years, this legacy of social and political upheaval seems to have survived. And despite a general feeling that everything is business as usual around here, I recently found out that President Roh (pronounced No (I don't have time to explain, or really a good understanding of, the reason the President's name is different in Korean and English)) Mu-Hyun's approval rating is significantly below that of even our beloved Bush (whose name, incidentally, in Korean, is pronounced "Goji Bushi"). This actually has nothing to do with North Korea, and everything to do with what Koreans see as a lack of job opportunities.

I had always assumed that South Korea was a stable, developed country; that political turmoil was limited to Latin America, Africa, and Southeast Asia. My experiences here initially did nothing but reinforce this notion. The atmosphere is calm, people are generally prosperous (at least moderately), and society doesn't seem to be extremely polarized. However, the FTA protests and other events have changed my mind. While I am not worried about serious political instability, or a coup of any sort, I can definitely see the effects of decades of turmoil still rippling around society. My favorite example of this came today, regarding the issue of a conservative group writing new history textbooks that glorify the military regimes of the 1960's. At an academic conference discussing the new book, violence broke out, including desks flying through the air. Not generally the type of behavior you expect from academics at a nation's top university.

korean cuisine

Now, I'm far from knowing all there is to know about the fascinating world of Korean food, but I've learned enough to have my bearings. I at least know a standard group of popular dishes, and can read these from a menu. I also am becoming familiar with the different types of restaurants and the different food they serve. Korea offers something for everyone in the way of food, especially if you are particularly fond of spice or adventurous in your eating habits. Most food is extremely spicy, and involves at least one sea creature. If want to eat something you didn't even know existed as an animal, a seafood restaurant here will delight you. Before we get started on individual dishes, a few notes about the presentation and process of eating. In Korea, a meal consists of anywhere from 4 to 87 dishes. Every restaurant will serve a series of complimentary "side dishes" which come along with your main dish (which probably itself will be at least two dishes). Also, it is very common for everyone at a table to share dishes. This is of course true with the side dishes, but often the main dish will be one huge serving of food that everyone shares. This dish is often cooked by you, right at your table, in a pot of boiling broth, or on a hot kind of grill-dome. Okay, let's get into some examples of the deliciousness.

We'll start with side dishes. You ALWAYS get kimchi with your meal. If you haven't heard about this delightful product, it is fermented cabbage that is literally doused in red chili paste. Tangy and spicy, to say the least. Secondly, you almost always get slices of yellow pickled radish. I'm talking the giant radish, that if you're familiar with it in Japanese food, you will know as daikon. This is salty, sweet and vinegary. Rounding out the list of ever-present side dishes is a weak soybean soup (you get this only if your meal isn't soup). However, there are probably hundreds of other side dishes that you may or may not receive, depending on the restaurant. Quite possibly my favorite is jon. This is a fried egg and/or flour pancake type object that has some sort of vegetable or octopus inside of it. It is always greasy, and usually delicious. Small servings of seaweed or mushroom salad are also quite popular and tasty. Radish kimchi is a regular on the table, taking many different forms and styles. One dish I'm quite fond of is what I think is sauteed spinach with garlic. Speaking of garlic, raw garlic is served on occasion as well. Some places (usually bars, I've found) serve an inexplicably burn-your-fucking-tongue-off spicy clear bean sprout soup. Be careful with this one; it may be the spiciest food product in Korea, and because it's not red, it'll sneak up on you and leave you crying, like the best friend who steals your girlfriend. There are definitely more side dishes to mention, but I think you get the point.

The most accessible food is at lunch/snack/all night restaurants that are kind of the Korean equivalent of fast food. Here, you can get quick, cheap food, but unlike American fast food, it is not greasy, meaty, fried, or cheesy. The main staple of this type of food is kimbap. This is rice rolled up in seaweed with goodies inside. It looks like sushi rolls, but doesn't have raw fish, crab or avocado inside. Inside kimbap, you'll find egg, ham, yellow radish, fish cake, inexplicable brown vegetable (I think I've determined that it is fern sprouts), and occasionally an extra item of your choice. My favorite is tuna (chamchi) kimbap. Another staple at these places is mandu, or dumplings. They are steamed, and filled with salty, meaty, vegi goodness. Bibimbap is quite possibly the food product that has most nourished me here. This is an excellent dish that is a big bowl of rice, topped off with fresh greens, seaweed, a healthy dollop of red pepper paste, and a fried egg. You can also get a number of noodle soups, like udong (Japanese style wide noodles) and spicy lamyeon (ramen). Tappap is a food of your choice (beef, kimchi, tuna, etc.) over a heaping helping of rice. Naengmeon is like cold slimy ramen that is impossible to bite through. It literally comes with scissors to cut the slimy mess hanging out of your mouth after a bite. Finally, you can even get a fried pork cutlet that comes with a fork and knife to eat it with. This is called dongasu.

(At this point, it is worth pointing out the eating utensils you are provided. Of course, you get chopsticks, but these are slippery, stainless steel chopsticks, not the forgiving wood or plastic type you are used to. Luckily, you also get a spoon, which you are encouraged to use for rice and dishes like bibimbap and tappap.)

Outside of these quick bite spots, restaurants usually focus on one or a few dishes. Soups are incredibly popular. Kimchi chigae is just like it sounds; spicy kimchi soup. The best place for kimchi chigae in Daejon (reputedly) is just down the street from my house/work, and their soup is made with kimchi that is aged for 3 years. It is almost indescribably sour, salty, spicy, and mouth wateringly delicious. Tang is another type of soup, usually one which comes with beef or ribs. A soup-type food dish is one that involves a boiling pot of broth at your table, in which you cook thin strips of meat, mushrooms, vegetables, etc. Ja jong myeon is udon-style noodles with a delectable black bean sauce. Bulgogi is very thin strips of marinated beef and vegetables. Kalbi is fatty, greasy barbeque pork. I wish I could remember the name of the bacon-like pork product you fry up at your table. I can't. But, imagine a thicker, fattier, greasier bacon, which fries right in front of you, while dousing the rest of your meal on the grill with delicious hog grease. It's even better than it sounds. Often with the meats, you take the cooked product and wrap it up in a leaf with raw garlic and a droplet of chili paste. One of the leaves you use is sesame leaf. I don't know why we don't have sesame leaves in the west. They are large, almost minty tasty and unbelievably fresh tasting.

The seafood in this country is absolutely out of control. With any luck, you've already seen the photos from the Pohang fish market. Octopus is everywhere, as are small dried fish. However, when our boss took us out for a seafood feast last week, I ate things I had never dreamed of. It's always good when you ask what something is, and the reply is that there is no English word for it. Quite possibly the best dish in terms of shock value was the raw octopus tentacles that had literally just been chopped off of the puss. They were wriggling around on the plate, and the suckers would definitely grip weakly to the inside of your mouth on the way down. Raw eel was served with with a spicy red sauce. There were several raw invertebrates that all taste kind of vaguely salty and chewy. You had some more standard raw sea products, such as oysters and tuna, but they were much fresher than any I've ever had. (These restaurants keep their product alive in tanks until you order it. (Well, not the tuna.)) I'm pretty sure it was conch that was a small shelled creature that you literally had to rip still living out of its shell. These tasted good, but I wasn't fond of ripping a living creature out of its home. I don't really know how to describe the several dishes that don't have English names. All I've mentioned so far are the side dishes, the main dish was a couple of platters of raw sashimi-style fish. At least 7 varieties of fish, mostly meaty white fish. The English names of the fish were unknown. These you would wrap up in the sesame or lettuce leaves, along with raw garlic, chili paste, and shoot it down. The meal was wrapped up with a literally fish-head soup that was not my favorite dish on the table.

I have two more items to tell you about before you're done with this bizarre rant. They are both extremely prevalent and strange. The first is dok. This is a gluttonous rice cake that can take many forms. It has roughly zero flavor, and is mostly characterized by its extremely chewy texture. It comes in a variety of types and styles, from a sweet-like snack, to a grilled hot dog like tube. The most common form is a street food called dok-bokki. This is heated dok in spicy sauce that you can get on just about every street corner. Dok is not bad, though some westerners (especially upon first taste) find it objectionable. The second item is odaeng. Odaeng is fishcake; basically ground fish (I'm under the impression that it's any generic fish) mixed with flour. This stuff is also on every street corner, in the form of long, wide strips on skewers. It also turns up in soups, side dishes, and your kimbap. It tastes just about as you would imagine it to, fishy.

I keep coming up with more to say, but I think I've given you enough examples for you to be impressed with the variety and flavor Korean cuisine.