Squid Wars

Teaching provides occasional insight into the complex inner workings of the Korean child, the exploration of which was my primary mission in coming to Korea. Yesterday some of my students and I engaged in an impromptu battle of dried-squid throwing. We wasted nothing, in the style of the great Native-Americans. We tossed squid eyes, legs and torsos at each other, culminating in a squid leg to the cheek launched by one brave lass. She thought the last laugh would be hers, as she threw it and quickly ran to the bathroom, but she underestimated my guile and grit. To my delight, I heard an awkward hiss from the teacher's lounge when she discovered the surprise I left in her pencil case. I tell you, it really doesn't get any better than squid wars. Today it rains heavily, and I blog from the PC bang, because my computer is on the brink of destruction. In a desperate effort to outdo Michelle, my friend Asma has gone and broken her arm, although in fairness she was hit by a car, while Michelle was merely clinging to pole in a nightclub, in true stripper fashion. Alright, I wasn't supposed to know that, but the secret is out. What's she going to do, she's in Jacksonville for God's sake. Booyah.

SUPER IMPACT EMERGENCY!!!!!!!!!!

One week in my new apartment has come and gone, and I am pleased with my new digs. This weekend, however, was a bit of a bust with nothing too interesting to report, so I won't. I will say that wearing a soccer jersey downtown is an open invitation for attention, both good and bad. Living in soccer-worshipping nations is good fun, and it's something you miss out on when you live in the states, although I'll take a pass on the hooliganism. One incident worthy of note for it's abject patheticness (is that a word?) on Saturday was a sad exchange between myself and a balding Canadian named Marciel, who upon recognizing me immediately began discussing his underactive thyroid gland and his waning libido. I sure know how to pick 'em. I quickly left him after encouraging him not to die in Korea. Sunday's highlight was an e-mail from one of my students with a heading which read "SUPER IMPACT EMERGENCY!!!!!!!!" In it, he offered me the use of a bicycle for the duration of my stay in Korea. I think that the message merited such a title, don't you? Transportation is important, yo. In other news, I think that my computer has contracted the worms and viruses that are currently plaguing the states, so I apologize if people are receiving infected e-mails from my account. Also I ate some delicious fish this weekend, which deserves a mention. I did manage to check out a couple of basketball games at the Universiade games which are currently being held in Daegu, and that was a good fun. Took a few pictures and I'll post them soon. Otherwise the countdown to my birthday commences: 2 weeks and counting.

Mr. Arnon Goes to Daegok

No phone, no hotwater and no internet make Andrew something something...

Go Crazy?

Don't mind if I do....

So the move has happened, and it's a mixed bag.

Pro: Building was built this decade-- hardwood floors, airconditioning, cable tv, internet conection possible.

Con: Truly in the sticks of a city that is relatively in the sticks of the country anyway. My apartment borders a creek, acres of farmland, and that's about it.

Pro: Four, count them four, foreigners live in the same building as me! That's four times the amount I'm accustomed to seeing on the streets of Sangin. The new apartment mates could all be pedophiles for all I know, but the fact remains that their pigmentation is caucasian rather than asian, and we all know how important it is to put the cauc in front of the asians sometimes.

Con: There were so many things wrong with the statement above, we'll just leave it that.

Pro: The days of walking through the courtyard and dodging naked children are over, people--I can't emphasize that enough. The family that once lived below me is now, well, behind me.

Con: My new apartment is really small. My bed is inches away from my refrigerator, and it's soothing white noise comforts me as I drift into slumber with images of naked korean children dancing in my head.

I must end with the Con of all Cons-- Somehow in the mad rush to move all my crap, I misplaced my Precious. (And by that I of course mean my Mach 3 razor, the only thing that effectively seperates men from monkeys. Tails and opposable thumbs aside) Assshhhiiiiii!


For the truly inspired:

Andrew Arnon
1420-4 Do Won Dong apt.#301
Dalseo-gu, Daegu, South Korea
704-802

Speaking of I'll be back. . .

3.Who is your daddy and what does he do?

Arnold for governer? C'mon now buddy really. All I can think about is him pulling a Kindergarden Cop on the senate floor and yelling "You congressmen are driving me crazy" or even better, "Senator Feinstein, "Get your ass back to Mars!" Seriously, California is apparently in a sorry state of affairs. Don't you wish you were in South Korea right now? All we fear is Nuclear attacks and outbreaks of deadly airborne viruses.

4. Why do I have to move?

I have less than 3 months left on my contract, yet my school is moving my out of my spacious stone-age house and into a more modest 1-room studio for the duration of my contract. So I guess people in Korea should call me on my cell-phone for the next couple of days, and those of you outside the nation who call me--so pretty much my mom and Frank (you rule), should wait till I have a new phone number.

5. Blogging

So I've killed the links to other people's blogs because things are getting bizarre. It's getting to the point where I'm afraid to look in my comments section, so sorry if you found them interesting or bizarre some combination thereof. You have to understand that Daegu is a tiny city where all the foreigners know each other or at least of each other, and wierd things ensue when some of them are given internet access. I don't mean my friends, but the wierdos who are fixated by them. Mine's the only blog you need, anyway.

night.

Perhaps I spoke too soon, and all this talk of merriment, drunkery and nostalgia was a bit premature. I should preface this entry by mentioning that I, one of my students, his mother and a friend devoured a roast duck in about twenty minutes today, and that was just weird and delicious, and wierdly delicious. So between the waterfowl in my gullet, the booze in my system and the odd hours I've been keeping lately, things seem strangely amiss. Now I know what you're thinking--"strangely amiss" is fairly status quo in the land of mysteriously dissapearing canines and mallards, and you're right. Still, I thought I had arrived at a mental state of reasonable comfort with Korea's various eccentricities, unpleasantries and it's economically advantageous luxuries. Recently however, as is bound to happen when one goes out carrousing four nights in a row, the strange, the odd and the negative have begun to surface and give the good, the serendipitious and the positive a run for it's money. Yes, it's the same epic struggle between yin and yang so artfully depicted in Tombraider 2, (Hanz Moleman says, "You took two hours of my life and I want them back! Oh, I probably would have just wasted them anyway.") Not to make short-shrift of these developments, but they need to be condensed in list form for a lot of reasons, sleep deprivation formost among them (Worry not, parents. I am strong like Ox). So here goes--

1. Who knew that the Eastern seaport and more was powerless for a spell? Certainly not I, who grew suspicious only when checking on the Giants game, found that their game against the Mets had been postponed because of...a massive power failure? I tell you: only in America, parts of Canada, and countries that don't have power to begin with. And then to add insult to injury, the Giants go on to lose two games to the lowly 'Spos. Tragic.

2. My @)($$#(%^@$#% computer is a piece of crap (No offense Natasha)

Several crucial keys on my computer keyboard, including but not limited to, the i,k, and the comma keys, are no longer functioning. Which makes it pretty goddamn difficult to type. Currently I am cutting and pasting those particular letters (and signs in the case of the one they call comma), from earlier entries. It's not very fun. And Caleb's suggestion to write without using those letters was just Unsane with a capital "U".

Ahhhhhhh I'll be back

Blog Interupted
This weekend should be commended for its sheer, Leaving Las Vegas style drunkery, which made for some choice moments, both good (all kinds of spontaneous wacky shennanigans, including some rare nostalgic instances) and bad (Yesterday afternoon shall henceforth be known as Black Saturday, a.k.a The Day The Music Died). Hangover aside, the first order of business: The One they call Fen-Ton.

Fenton is likely the best thing to come out of Canada, since-- well, ever (special consideration goes Wolverine and The Band). I don't say this because he danced in a cage to some seriously awful music, but largely because he was slam dancing to Who Let The Dogs Out, and throwing diminuitive Koreans about willy-nilly with his tree-trunk like limbs. Also he pointed to Caleb and told me not to believe his lies, much as the man from Memento reminded himself via a prominent tattoo. Later he revealed some of his sophisticated philsophy on Korean culture. Did you notice the perplexed but intrigued Korean man in the background? No? Look again. He is important because minutes after this photo was taken, unbeknownst to any of us, Fenton made his way over to his table and started regaling them with some crazy talk. Once we realized where he was, I felt the need to document the moment, so I stood to snap a photo. Alas I was out of range, but Simon, Michelle's distinguished Irish (English?) boyfriend, kindly offered to take a closer shot. In doing so he leaned on an unstable table and nearly broke it in two. He fell and the entire restaurant burst into unabashed laughter. Even my concern for my camera could not mitigate the moment's hilarity, so I too, laughed. Once the laughter died down, Simon did manage to get a good photo...but at what cost? You'll notice that the people at the table are still in the throes of laughing, especially Asma, who has apparently been sold into marriage in exchange for the fine desert beast in the picture. The price was steep, yes, but camels come and go, only Asma is forever. Kidding.

On Christmas he gave me aftershave

Saturday was also Patrick's last night on the town, and we sent him off in good fashion, drinking prodigious amounts of soju and beer. Patrick was my first guy friend in Korea and he taught me much about the crack game. And by crack game, I of course mean Korean culture. He was my neighbor and fellow baseball nut, and he was a true homie. Take your place of honor amongst the 300 pictures of me on the top of the site. You'll be missed you penny-pinching bastard, I hope you have a safe flight home. This is where I get a little weepy-eyed. My other dear friend Michelle leaves next Saturday, so it seems that we are destined to drink ourselves into another nostalgic stupor again this weekend. Such is Mango. Despite these farewells, the past weekend has actually been ridiculously fun (and drunk) and has led me to think about extending me contract in Korea for a little while longer, under the right circumstances. I have to say that my circle of friends can be quite delightful (big shout out to Asma and Fenton) and I look forward to my final three months with them.

I will try to finish that Japan entry next time.

So the time has come to talk, not of cabbages and kings (which one might well do if asked to talk about Korea), but instead to talk of Wasabi and Raw fish, and all of the things which make Japan the mighty island nation which it is today. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I and my mighty crew (Megan and Michelle) had as much success in Japan as these fellows , nor would I say that it was as disastrous as some previous visits by Americans to Japan . So, to summarize, not quite a full fledged Nagasaki, but closer to a mere Hiroshima. I kid, I kid. I kid because I love to laugh. Seriously Japan, (Il bon to the Koreans, and Nippon to the Japanese) is a fun place... when it's not monsoon season. In fact I would go so far as to say it's fantastic...when you have reservations for a hotel room. Really it's wonderful...when you speak Japanese. Friday was a fine day, if not for the pouring rain which greeted us after stepping off the boat- wait let me back up. We took a hydrofoil to from Korea to Japan, which takes only 3 1/2 hours to cross the Sea of Japan--oh I'm sorry, the South Sea, Korea does not recognize that slave name any longer. Smooth ride it was not. An elderly woman to my left vomited several times and later we found her sleeping in the Muster Station, a gathering spot at the back of the ship which displayed several non-sensical signs. One of them showed a family lined up from tallest to smallest, indicating this was indeed the spot where a family should establish once and for all the respective heights of its members. Another sign, marked Exit showed a man running, rather desperately. It was placed atop a door leading directly off of the ship and ostensibly into the water. This was our first indication that our trip to Japan was to be confusing at the very least. I felt I should take a picture of the sleeping lady, as she was laying atop some sort of makeshift tinfoil bed, but I thought it might be a little inappropriate, and besides the aluminum was interfering with my flash. The boat arrived safely enough and we set foot in Japan and took a bus to the downtown area, where the monsoon began in earnest. We decided that finding a hotel should be our first priority and so we began walking. These would prove to be the most pervasive and lingering themes of our brief visit: walking and finding a hotel. Soon enough, and a mere two hours later, we had found one. So, drenched but undeterred, we rested briefly and set out to see what Fukuoka had to offer. We really didn't know where to start, but luckily our map was sponsored by McDonalds, 7-11 and Seattle's Best coffee shop, so we made sure to pay each of these traditionally Japanese institutions at least a passing visit. In our wanderings we discovered the mighty Starbucks had also spread it's insidious corporate seed to the city. In fact there were three shops within 5 blocks of each other. Starbucks was to become our impromptu base of operations in the 2 days to follow, and had any of the stores had beds or even couches, we would have likely spent Saturday night there, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Eventually we happened upon an Indian restaurant. There we supped upon some of the most delicious food that any of us had tasted since coming to Asia, almost a year ago. Who knew you had to come to Japan to eat quality Indian food? After this we looked for some foreign-friendly watering holes. The first was called the "Happy Cock" (I can think of at least two things wrong with that title) which was kind of the "girls gone wild" bar of Fukuoka. There you can pay $30 (3,600 yen) and drink as much as you can for the night. We opted against this and settled for a couple of drinks and a complimentary shot of tequilla. Nothing too eventful here, though some table dancing ensued--guess who wasn't involved? Then we went to a foreign owned establishment called "The White Room" or maybe it was "The Dark Room," I don't remember which. I'd opt for the latter because it was poorly lit and didn't wasn't playing the classic Cream tune. This place featured some interesting designs, but few interesting people. We sat in an area which had a Roman bachanallia reproduction on one wall and a Dali reproduction on the other. Although there were plenty of places in Fukuoka that were stylistically Japanese, we seemed to be finding mostly places of Western design and influence. We hoped that Saturday's trip to the mall would prove more culturally insightful--our 7-11 map suggested it might. Little did we know that Saturday, which began promisingly with an Iced Latte from Starbucks would end tragically with blistered feet and wet socks and shattered dreams.

to be continued