Claire Apparent

She came, she saw, she turned my life upside down. Or maybe right side up?

Claire visited Chuncheon this past week.

Honestly, I probably did more activities around the Chunch' than I had in the past 6 months. And if we're just talking about doing activities, I was probably more active than I've been in about 2 years.

I was frightened at first. As I was waking up at 10 am the first couple mornings or hiking up the side of a mountain, I wasn't sure whether my body could handle this sudden change in schedule. Could my heart work at this normal person pace? Would my brain explode? There really is time for 3 meals in one day? The sun rises before it sets?

But once I got used to these realizations, I found myself feeling healthier and happier. It also helped that it was 60 degrees for most of the week and Claire poured me a bowl of cereal every morning with milk and a touch of love.

Claire was awesome to have around. She has such great energy and need to keep busy. Two things I've always feared, but am working on. She's also become very aware of her surroundings. She made it from the supermarket in my city back to my apartment her first day here. Sense of direction is something she's drastically improved upon. If I remember correctly, she used to have trouble finding the entrance to I-84 in Waterbury. She would whip out a map in order to get from Fulton park to 7-11.

We hiked, drank some Soju, Twisted and Shouted at Karaoke and wowed a Korean Tennis Club with our athleticism. Still got that ferocious Prince Fielder-esque backhanded swing and eephus of a second serve.

Claire is all over the court. Backbone of the team.

We defeated two Koreans in a tiebreaker, impressing the club "pro." I say "pro" because he looked and acted like anything but. He wore a trench coat with moccasins and smoked about 4 cigarettes while we were playing. I kept looking over while he was blowing smoke up into the air, laughing with a group of young, korean women. One time he caught my eye and stared at me for a couple seconds. He motioned to his cigarettes. I half-expected him to break out into an Alex Baldwin type monologue from The Departed. Go to :54 seconds:

The first couple games we looked like Michael Chang and Anna Kournikova. But the last couple we were like Federer and Venus. Grunting aside.

Also, on the way back to my neighborhood, the taxi cab driver challenged me to a match. Might give him a call next weekend to pick me up. Wonder if he'll use the company car. Wonder if he'll turn off the meter.

Anyways, it was great to see Claire and I thank her for coming out to visit. I may never get up at 10 am again these next 6 months, but at least I now know that it exists.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

This past weekend was the Lunar New Year in South Korea and many other Asian nations.

Not positive if North Korea celebrates the New Year. Not sure if they have calendars or are allowed to celebrate much of anything up north. Maybe Kim Jong Il's birthday, laundry day and new mistress day.

Since I've been over here and closer to Kim-bap, I've realized that he really isn't as bad as others put him out to be. Maybe just a little lonely. A natural feeling we all experience at some point or another.

Anyways, let's get back to the theme of this post. The beginning of a new year in South Korea. One of the most important days on their calendar. Elaborate gifts are given, traditional garb is donned and ancestral hometowns are visited. On New Years' Day in America, bottles and bottle of water are consumed, Advil and Aspirin tablets are shared amongst loved ones and clothing from the night before is worn for almost half the day.

Let's look at a breakdown of the respective New years' eves in the two nations

New Years' Eve:

2:00 pm

S.K.- Me, my brother, sister, Mom and Dad arrive at my grandparents

house in a small rural town outside of Seoul. We have our traditional Korean clothing in hand and clutch gifts/cards/food for loved ones. My family and I have been preparing all day for tonight and the following day.

U.S.- Jussstt about waking up. Fortunately, New Years Eve fell on a Saturday this year, so a friend had put together a New Years Eve Eve party. Excellent. Not one, but two nights of beer pong, up and down the river and completely destroying someone's home/life. Think I'll take a nap in preparation.

4:00 pm

S.K.- Gifts carefully wrapped in layers and layers of packaging are exchanged. I bought my grandmother a beautiful white and violet vase. I also offered her a plate of chocolate rice cakes my mother, brother and I had made the night before. She smiles and I bow.

Next is my grandfather. The oldest member of our family and therefore, most respected. I sit down close to him and pull out a small metal trinket I had made at University. Red, blue and green colors light up his tired, grey eyes. It is a glasses case.

He seems pleased, but only smiles when I uncover the 3 bottles of Soju I snuck in unbeknownst to my mother. He is happy. I am happy.

U.S.- Get up from my nap.

6:00 pm

S.K.- Aunts, Uncles and cousins arrive at the house. Hugs and kisses are exchanged along with bows to the elder family members. Cousins exchange gifts with grandma and grandpa. Dinner prep begins. Dining table is set. Kim-chi is made. Spicy, red and complimented with rice.

U.S.- Kegs arrive at the party house. Four to be exact. Two already have dents from the treacherous trek up to the 3rd floor apartment. Dining table is turned into a pong platform. The jungle juice is prepared. Malibu Rum, Natural Light and some mouthwash for that extra zip.

8:00 pm

S.K.- Dinner is served with numerous side dishes. Different types of fish, meat, noodles and vegetables are consumed. Families may then walk together after the meal and catch up on each other's lives.

U.S.- I arrive at the party still chewing on the 2 slices of pizza I bought for dinner. I grab a solo cup and scribble my name in on the beer pong list. I utter a few inside jokes amongst friends, turn up the already booming sound system and begin trash talking the pong players.

11:00 pm-12 am

S.K.- Biggest moment of the night. Me, my brothers, sisters and cousins must bow to our grandparents and ask for money. We've practiced these bows before. Hands folded out to our eldest relatives, knees to the ground first, then follow with the head. Then back up again. Many nerves but also very gratifying if done right.

U.S.- Biggest hour of the night. All of us that are not passed out await the stroke of midnight. But what will happen at midnight? Will that girl you've been eyeing all night come over and give you a new years kiss? Will these two guidos from Long Island finally lose a beer pong game? Will that Bob Marley poster still be attached to the wall? Is there robitussun in the jungle juice? Many nerves. Very little gratification.

12:30 am

S.K.- Everything went very well. Received 50,000 won from my grandparents and approving looks from my family. Respect was given and respect was had. Now off to bed. Big day tomorrow with family, traditional Korean clothes and food!

U.S.- Nothing went well. Instead of the girl coming over to me at midnight, 7 of my friends tackled me on to the couch, spilling juice all over the white cushions and ripping down the Marley poster. The host would have been mad, had he not fallen asleep at 9:30 on his kitchen floor. Next two hours are pretty similar to the beginning of the night. Only more singing and shouting.

Probably pass out at 3. Wake up around 10. Maybe get something to eat. Then do it again?

Hopefully not. Resolute 2010.

Soccer

It's a sport I play every Sunday, but a word I utter sparingly. Playing with mostly Koreans and proper gentlemen from the UK, soccer is a useless word. To me, it almost represents a lack of knowledge for the game. A game for which my knowledge is already very small. Sometimes the treacherous word slips from my tongue amidst European company, and a deep feeling of shame washes over me. I quickly look to the ground, hoping no one heard.

Of course, when I am in the company of a fellow Me-gook (American) player, it's soccer, soccer, soccer all day, all night. Even when we're talking about teaching or the weather.

"Yeah, it has been cold. Why aren't th--SOCCER! Why aren't there pl--SOCCER! plows in this SOCCER!! SOCCER!! SOCCERRR!!

Sometimes football is shortened up to footy. Who knows why? Not like you use your feet. Most countries around the world use some variation of football. Except Iceland, which uses Knattspyma. Icelanders also use dung to heat their homes.

So let's call it chukgu (Korean). It's a sport I've played since I was 6 or 7 years old. Honestly, it was mostly a filler sport between summer baseball and winter basketball. I don't know if I really ever enjoyed playing it in the states. Too much running. No timeouts.

Also, I could never score. Upon entering the box, I would usually panic, kick the ball straight into a defender and then throw my hands in front of my face as he booted it back down the field. True mincer.

In my 3 year varsity career, I think I tallied 6 goals? The first year I was a full-time ball boy and only played when the other team was winning by 7 or we were playing the American School for the Deaf. But I celebrated my ball boy status. Two other freshman and I actually coined our group BBOA. Ball Boys of America.

We would make full out dives for stray balls and slide into pricker bushes in search of lost ones. Sure, our efforts went unnoticed, but we knew how many balls we had stopped from killing Timmy's grandmother or upending a nest of newborn baby birds.

Don't really remember much in my 2nd year, but definitely began to play more. I also became the king of penalty kicks. We would have PK tournaments at the end of each practice and I did surprisingly well one day. Using a pair of moccasins from the lost and found (I was known to forget my cleats and athletic clothes every so often and since the 6th grade, was a happy and frequent lost and found customer) I beat every single person on the team. Right corner was my spot. Moccasin Monagan became my name. Just kidding.

But this day carried my PK legacy into senior year and I became the go to penalty kicker. Four of my six goals over my 3 year career were scored in this fashion. I probably would've had more PK's but had a Rick Ankiel-like mental breakdown midway through my final season and couldn't even lift the ball off the ground. Kept seeing little green goblins dancing around the goal line.

Now I'm in Korea and am really enjoying football. I play almost every Sunday. Sometimes Saturdays. I don't know why I suddenly enjoy it. I think because it keeps me in shape and I enjoy hearing the Korean players scream "Nice-Uh!" when somebody does something well.

Play a mix of 11 a side and 5 a side. I think I enjoy the 5 a side more because of the smaller pitch (less running) and ample touches.

Last week, myself, Lewis (Yorkshire ballin' till he be fallin'), Steven (Energizer Tiger) and Zack (Mayor of Chuncheon) walked on to a 5 a side pitch of high-school aged kids and dominated for a span of 4 games. It's like in America, where it's 5 on 5 pick-up basketball. You lose, you're out.

Lewis scored his usual 8 goals and I had 6. We were dominant up front. Like Jordan and Pippen in the late 90s. Steven was the hardworking defender (Luc Longley). Zack was the everywhere man, flying all over the pitch (Dennis Rodman). We also picked up a Korean keeper, who I believe had a 3rd arm.

The crowds of Korean high schoolers oohhh and ahhhhed every time we rocketed a shot towards the goal. They shook the cage that surrounded the field every time there was a hard foul. It was epic. In 2 short hours, we became Chuncheon legends.

When we left, a chorus line of about 20 Korean men gave us a hefty bow. Lower than Obama's bow to the Japanese president. Lower than a baby pygmy bow.

We hope to go back to this field someday.

When we do, a grand entrance will definitely be in order. Maybe something like this. Just to remind them who is boss:

Ice, Ice, Baby

We arrived in Hwacheon, a city about an hour and a half away from North Korea. The air was crisp and a steady snow was falling.

The small town reminded me one that would be used for the setting of a Hollywood movie. It's a Wonderful Life-like. Small stores, friendly people and a cheerful atmosphere. I felt like I could've walked around there all day, letting the snow fall on my face while admiring the decorations celebrating the town's annual ice festival. I felt great. I felt like grabbing a random Korean girl and giving her the Jimmy Stewart monologue.

But then I realized it wasn't nighttime. There was no moon. There was no Mary. There was Sang-Hee-Wee and she probably wouldn't speak much English.

I decided to drop the idea and head for the festivus. Heading into the festival, I wasn't expecting much of anything. I don't know why. I just figured it would be a bunch of foreigners taking turns trying to catch fish around one small hole; trying to keep warm with a couple bottles of Soju and Dimple. The body of water would probably be about the size of the 3rd pond at Fulton Park.

You know the pond. The one that is partially hidden from the road behind a stone wall? Nobody likes to look at it. Many deny its existence. Two-headed trolls and other ghastly creatures have been known to make their homes in and around this disgusting mess of nature. If you're lucky, you might find a couple baseballs that Matt "Party Crashing" Carr launched from a few of the upper diamonds.

But I was pleasantly surprised. The area playing home to the festival was enormous. It equaled the entire length of Fulton Park. Thousands of people littered the grounds. There were three huge expanses of ice dedicated to ice-fishing, one for ice soccer, a couple more for go-karts/ATVs and a final pool for swimming. Also, huge snow/ice sculptures surrounded the boundaries of the ice. Amazing and detailed illustrations of animal faces and people. Ice cold.

Ice-fishing was difficult. The trip organizer gave us what resembled a fly swatter, and attached a string and some bait to the end. My bait was neon-green. I don't think I could've caught a fish with down-syndrome.

It seemed like it also takes quite a long time to catch a fish. A ton of patience. A few Koreans seemed like they had been there a couple days. Lying on the ground, blue in the face, on the brink of hypothermia.

After ice-fishing, we headed over to the final section of the ice festival. Where old men go to die.

When we arrived, a group of young Korean men and women were standing around a pool of ice water. They were dressed in small shorts and t-shirts, shivering in the 15 degree temperatures. I eventually put two and two together. They were going to jump in. And why were we here? Because we were also going to jump in.

The Koreans jumped into the the water and screams of terror erupted from the below 0 water. The idea of this exercise, besides making your heart stop, was for the participants to search for and catch fish with their bare-hands. These men and women actually seemed to catch a lot of fish. It didn't look that difficult.

However, I still was not going in the water. I was too young to die. And dying in a foreign country? Who wants to do that? Talk about a hassle for family and friends.

But, peer pressure has always been one of my worst faults. I got sucked in. I couldn't face the outcry and bashing I would get if I didn't make the jump.

About thirty other foreigners and myself walked bare-foot along the snow and out towards the pool of death. The area itself is shaped like an arena. There is a small pool down below and then crowds of people watching and trash-talking from up above. (I think someone actually threw a soju bottle down at me).

Anyway, when I looked around at the 30 foreigners in bright orange t-shirts and 100 Koreans watching/taking bets on who would fall first, I felt like a clown put there for someone's amusement. They were all laughing at us, entertained by our stupidity. As they should have been.

It kind of felt similar to that scene in A.I. when the robots are tortured to the sheer delight of human spectators.

I jumped into the water.

Honestly, telling you the water was extremely cold does not suffice. It felt like needles were being pulled out and then driven squarely back into my legs. I stood there, frozen with fear, frozen with...well. Frozen.

I didn't even look for fish. Quite honestly, I don't think there were any fish left after the previous group. I quickly gathered my senses and headed towards the ladder to escape the pool of misery. I think I was the second guy out and actually elbowed a couple girls out of the way to get to the escape route first. Put my legs in a hot bath and can finally feel them thawing out today.

I will never, ever put myself in this type of situation again.

Unless someone asks me twice.

Dog Eat dog. Yes, eat the dog.

Dogs.

In America, they are man's best friend. They are fond companions, who will pick up your spirits when you feel down, deter criminals from breaking and entering and lick your face until it turns into an oversized prune.

For the most part, if your name is not Michael Vick, they love you and you love them. They show allegiance and respect to an owner like a son would to a father. They are part of the family. Sometimes even more so than an unfortunate-looking sibling or cross-eyed, binge-drinking uncle.

Golden retrievers, Beagles, Terriers, Miniature Schnowzas, Chow Chows. Heck, even Chinese Shar-Peis! Although, now we're beginning to look more and more like that unfortunate looking sibling.

One dog to stay away from- Lhasa Apsos. They may look cute and harmless, but will destroy your house and tear your family apart. Also, if you have any newborn babies lying around, they will try and eat them.

But generally, dogs are the staple pet in America. They are glamorized on TV, in films- "Lassie," "All Dogs Go To Heaven."

Has there ever been a movie about all humans going to Heaven? Never.

But there has been a movie about the evil nature of humans called "The Cannibal Holocaust."

Say those words again out loud.

Are there any two worse words in any language in the entire world?

It's true. Many times, especially on the silver screen, dogs are shone in a better light than our fellow man and woman.

I remember celebrating when the dog in "Dante's Peak" avoided the flowing lava and jumped safely into Pierce Brosnan's volcano-proof pickup truck.

However, I couldn't help but laugh when the stubborn Grandmother had both of her legs burned off in the acid lake.

Homeward Bound is another movie that gives human-like qualities to dogs.

- Go to the 7 minute mark.

But what about in Korea?

How are dogs treated?

Well, first off, they are eaten in many restaurants throughout the country. Probably more so in North Korea, where it's either dog meat or sand.

There is actually a dinner spot about 3 minutes from my house where you can order dog. It's right next door to the sweet egg bread stand. I still do not know what they put inside their bread.

Dog meat is supposedly good for your stomach and can also help cancer patients. I don't know how. Maybe the fact that you can eat Lassie for dinner makes conquering cancer seem like nothing.

Will I eat dog? I think so. Not because I have cancer or stomach problems, but because I feel like I have to. I'm in Korea. I've already eaten raw chicken and pig intestines. Dog seems like the next logical step.

After reading this, you may think this is the worst future a puppy can endure.

But....

Dogs that are not eaten in Korea are spray painted with whatever color the owner sees fit. I saw one the other day sporting a pink sweater over a bright yellow body. These pet dogs are generally smaller and kept in a woman's purse. The big hounds are taken into the kitchen.

South Korea. One place it is both natural and beneficial to be small. I guess.