Foreign women are often wary when it comes to getting a hair cut in Korea Land. I’ve met many a woman who simply refuses to get a haircut for their entire year here. These concerns aren’t entirely illogical. While there are certainly Koreans with thick or curly hair, they are few and far between. On the whole, if you don’t have straight, fine hair, your hair dresser probably doesn't have as much experience cutting hair of your type. There are probably hair dressers here that haven’t a clue how to cut curly hair; heck, there are a number of those in Canada Land, where they don’t have a homogeneous population to fall back on as an excuse. This being said, I consider refusal to cut your hair for an entire year while in Korea to be overly cautious. If you pony-up and just get it done, the worst case scenario is that you either leave with a mullet or bangs cut half way up your scalp. A hair mishap like this is why God invented the bobby pin. I was willing to take this risk.
Those who realize that not cutting your hair for a year is ridiculous and unnecessary, tend to flock towards those hair salons that word-of-mouth has placed a well reputed English speaking hair stylist at. Should you desire to offer any input on the process without mime, this is sound logic. I heard word of such a hair stylist near Seomyeon (central Busan). The exact location is roughly a 40 minute subway ride from my apartment, and rather out of the way from where I work. In order to guarantee that I made it to work on time, I would have to wake up a full 4 hours earlier than usual. This plan was flawed.
Thirty seconds of careful deliberation determined that four hours sleep is more important than vanity. Instead of traipsing around town in search of a great haircut that might not be found, I opted to just try Random Haircutting Salon near my work. A friend of mine commented on my bravery; whether in admiration or mockery remains to be seen. Given that I’m at least a little vain, I didn’t go unprepared. I printed a photo from the internet of a haircut that was distinctly non-mullet and had a coworker help me write in Korea: no bangs, no hair shorter than shoulder length.
Upon my arrival at Random Haircutting Salon, I apologized for my inability to speak Korea and handed them the photo and notes. Within moments I was seated and having the life straightened out of my hair by three stylists. For some reason they felt that my overwhelming abundance of hair required more than one person to straighten, and that it was necessary to do this prior to cutting it. The rest of the appointment went more or less as you would expect a haircut to go; not particularly noteworthy.
Much to the dismay of my friend who had declared me brave, I did not leave with a mullet or a head full of bangs. My assumption that anybody with a pair of scissors and five minutes spent in hairdressing school could follow the photo and instructions that were provided proved correct. I wasn’t brave; merely prepared. Either I got lucky or the foreigner fear of Korean hairstylists is largely unfounded. I’ll put a dollar on the latter.
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Barbie Teacher is Monkey!
I am a fairly compensated Talking Monkey. Even my students think so.
I’ll be the first to admit that my job entails very little in the way of skill. If my occasional peak at message boards frequented by other English teachers in Korea is anything to go by, one doesn’t even need a working knowledge of the English language. The check list of qualifications required to teach English at your typical hagwon in Korea is looks something like this:
1 - Are you from Korea? No? Fantastic.
2 - Are you whiter than white? No? Look into purchasing some whitening cream and you’re temporarily forgiven. Good news! In Korea, there is whitening cream in everything, from your facial moisturizer to the dye in your clothing.
3 - Can you speak something that at least sounds somewhat like English? Oui? Fabulous!
4 - Do you have a university degree, or at least a shiny piece of paper that kind of looks like it could be? Yes? Super!
5 - Do you have any interest in teaching? Not particularly, but you’re awfully fond of money? Sold!
Higher paying jobs and those which offer more vacation time tend to be a little pickier than your typical hagwon. They may actually be interested in knowing that you can spell, too. I’ve heard of some institutes that are interested in learning whether or not you’re a qualified educator, but they’re few and far between. The reality for most foreigners teaching English in Korea is that we really are Talking Monkeys. Our job is to provide a foreign presence. If one decides to go above and beyond that and actually take their role as an educator seriously, that’s fantastic. If one thinks that this is lame and would rather stumble into their 8am classes only two hours removed from a serious drinking binge, the sad reality is that they’re probably not going to get fired. As long as they show up on time, they may not even get criticized.
I know my place here. I know that while I chose to arrive at the hagwon half an hour before class, to not drink during the week, and to prepare each lesson, that the vast majority of the time my efforts will go unnoticed. I don’t take my job seriously because I’m vainly searching for praise; I do it because I wouldn’t respect myself otherwise.
Each Wednesday, I begin the day with eight screaming six year olds. They’re just darling. It’s an introductory class, so I spend a good deal of time miming as I speak. The Talking Monkey becomes the Dancing Monkey. It’s a good deal of fun, so I don’t really mind.
On this particular Wednesday, the children weren’t too keen on listening. The activity that we were working through required them to repeat what I said, and nothing more. They so weren’t feeling it, and blabbered at one another in Korean. Dancing Monkey time! I ordered the class to be quiet, and announced that it was time to listen, while grabbing at my ear. Body language excellence! Belle Student either misunderstood my message, or hates me a whole lot. Seeing me grab at my ear resulted in her breaking into a fit of hysterical giggles. The giggling subsided shortly after, because breathing is important. After taking a moment to get some air, she grabbed both of her ears, screwed up her face and said: “Teacher Monkey! Ooo! Woo!” For her efforts, Belle Student won herself a free date in the hallway with Captain Nobody.
While Belle Student wasn’t exactly incorrect in her mockery, Barbie Teacher really doesn’t need six year olds to put her in her place. Even though I found Belle Student’s mockery of my actions rather amusing, I had to put on an Angry Face and feign indignation.
I’ll be the first to admit that my job entails very little in the way of skill. If my occasional peak at message boards frequented by other English teachers in Korea is anything to go by, one doesn’t even need a working knowledge of the English language. The check list of qualifications required to teach English at your typical hagwon in Korea is looks something like this:
1 - Are you from Korea? No? Fantastic.
2 - Are you whiter than white? No? Look into purchasing some whitening cream and you’re temporarily forgiven. Good news! In Korea, there is whitening cream in everything, from your facial moisturizer to the dye in your clothing.
3 - Can you speak something that at least sounds somewhat like English? Oui? Fabulous!
4 - Do you have a university degree, or at least a shiny piece of paper that kind of looks like it could be? Yes? Super!
5 - Do you have any interest in teaching? Not particularly, but you’re awfully fond of money? Sold!
Higher paying jobs and those which offer more vacation time tend to be a little pickier than your typical hagwon. They may actually be interested in knowing that you can spell, too. I’ve heard of some institutes that are interested in learning whether or not you’re a qualified educator, but they’re few and far between. The reality for most foreigners teaching English in Korea is that we really are Talking Monkeys. Our job is to provide a foreign presence. If one decides to go above and beyond that and actually take their role as an educator seriously, that’s fantastic. If one thinks that this is lame and would rather stumble into their 8am classes only two hours removed from a serious drinking binge, the sad reality is that they’re probably not going to get fired. As long as they show up on time, they may not even get criticized.
I know my place here. I know that while I chose to arrive at the hagwon half an hour before class, to not drink during the week, and to prepare each lesson, that the vast majority of the time my efforts will go unnoticed. I don’t take my job seriously because I’m vainly searching for praise; I do it because I wouldn’t respect myself otherwise.
Each Wednesday, I begin the day with eight screaming six year olds. They’re just darling. It’s an introductory class, so I spend a good deal of time miming as I speak. The Talking Monkey becomes the Dancing Monkey. It’s a good deal of fun, so I don’t really mind.
On this particular Wednesday, the children weren’t too keen on listening. The activity that we were working through required them to repeat what I said, and nothing more. They so weren’t feeling it, and blabbered at one another in Korean. Dancing Monkey time! I ordered the class to be quiet, and announced that it was time to listen, while grabbing at my ear. Body language excellence! Belle Student either misunderstood my message, or hates me a whole lot. Seeing me grab at my ear resulted in her breaking into a fit of hysterical giggles. The giggling subsided shortly after, because breathing is important. After taking a moment to get some air, she grabbed both of her ears, screwed up her face and said: “Teacher Monkey! Ooo! Woo!” For her efforts, Belle Student won herself a free date in the hallway with Captain Nobody.
While Belle Student wasn’t exactly incorrect in her mockery, Barbie Teacher really doesn’t need six year olds to put her in her place. Even though I found Belle Student’s mockery of my actions rather amusing, I had to put on an Angry Face and feign indignation.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Barbie Teacher Is Schooled on the "Sea of Japan”
Every Monday and Wednesday I have the challenge of starting my day with screaming 6 year olds and ending it with a small group of men and women in their 30’s. I actually prefer the 6 year olds; they require significantly less work. The students look bored? Easy. Put on a stupid face or make them repeat some random English word three times fast. Laughter ensues. Problem solved. In my adult class, I actually have to put together handouts and what not so that we have extra material to fall back on if the Topic of the Day is a flop. In other words, I have to do work. Work! Totally not what I came here for! As a result, I like my younger classes best because they require the least work. That said, when I can overlook the fact that I’m a lazy twerp, I realize than I learn more about Korea during my discussions with the adult class. All that work creating vocabulary lists and discussion questions (*cough* ten minutes *cough*) is not for naught!
I arrive to each of my adult classes with a Topic of the Day prepared for discussion. The accompanying handout, which is hastily throw together between sessions of facebook and ass scratching during break, is comprised of an introduction to the Topic of the Day, relevant vocabulary, discussion questions, and related articles. When I first started leading these classes I didn’t actually bother to prepare anything whatsoever, because I had no bloody clue what the heck I was doing. Four months later and I’ve smartened up. Barbie Teacher learns quickly! Or possibly just overlooks the obvious for an inexcusably long time before finally acting like Normal People.
The Topic of the Day for the first Monday back from the Chinese New Year was “Natural Disasters”. The previous Monday I had been totally lacking in inspiration and actually selected “Weather” as the Topic of the Day. To me, discussing the weather for an hour is incredibly painful. Surprisingly, they were actually interested. On one hand, this was fantastic. On the other, it was Total Balls since it meant that I couldn’t just change the topic in the middle of class to something that sucked slightly less.
At some point during the “Natural Disaster” discussion, I was talking to my students about how being on the Sea of Japan rather than right on the ocean makes a difference in regards to some weather-hooey. Whatever the Hell point it was that I was trying to make totally died when I uttered: “the Sea of Japan”. One of the men turned his nose up, glanced my way with more than just a touch of disdain, and advised me that the correct name is “the Sea. Just ‘the Sea’” (I looked this up later and determined that South Korea has fought to have it internationally known as “The East Sea”, not “Just ‘the Sea’”… but whatever, we’ll give him a pass). It was at this point that I remembered reading something, months ago, about how Koreans absolutely abhor that anybody refers to this body of water as “the Sea of Japan”. I presume that the underlying issue here is that after hundreds of years of bloody, bloody battles and some outright ass kickings from their not-always-so-friendly neighbor, some Koreans are a little displeased that the body of water which the entire east side of their country borders bears the name of their former bully. Understandable.
I apologized profusely for my blunder, and then proceeded to blame the entire thing on the United States. They nodded and took this as an acceptable passing-of-the-buck. Thankfully, nobody sought further explanation as to why this was the fault of the United States, as I had none to offer.
I arrive to each of my adult classes with a Topic of the Day prepared for discussion. The accompanying handout, which is hastily throw together between sessions of facebook and ass scratching during break, is comprised of an introduction to the Topic of the Day, relevant vocabulary, discussion questions, and related articles. When I first started leading these classes I didn’t actually bother to prepare anything whatsoever, because I had no bloody clue what the heck I was doing. Four months later and I’ve smartened up. Barbie Teacher learns quickly! Or possibly just overlooks the obvious for an inexcusably long time before finally acting like Normal People.
The Topic of the Day for the first Monday back from the Chinese New Year was “Natural Disasters”. The previous Monday I had been totally lacking in inspiration and actually selected “Weather” as the Topic of the Day. To me, discussing the weather for an hour is incredibly painful. Surprisingly, they were actually interested. On one hand, this was fantastic. On the other, it was Total Balls since it meant that I couldn’t just change the topic in the middle of class to something that sucked slightly less.
At some point during the “Natural Disaster” discussion, I was talking to my students about how being on the Sea of Japan rather than right on the ocean makes a difference in regards to some weather-hooey. Whatever the Hell point it was that I was trying to make totally died when I uttered: “the Sea of Japan”. One of the men turned his nose up, glanced my way with more than just a touch of disdain, and advised me that the correct name is “the Sea. Just ‘the Sea’” (I looked this up later and determined that South Korea has fought to have it internationally known as “The East Sea”, not “Just ‘the Sea’”… but whatever, we’ll give him a pass). It was at this point that I remembered reading something, months ago, about how Koreans absolutely abhor that anybody refers to this body of water as “the Sea of Japan”. I presume that the underlying issue here is that after hundreds of years of bloody, bloody battles and some outright ass kickings from their not-always-so-friendly neighbor, some Koreans are a little displeased that the body of water which the entire east side of their country borders bears the name of their former bully. Understandable.
I apologized profusely for my blunder, and then proceeded to blame the entire thing on the United States. They nodded and took this as an acceptable passing-of-the-buck. Thankfully, nobody sought further explanation as to why this was the fault of the United States, as I had none to offer.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Barbie Receives January Hours; Has a Conniption
Every month I receive a new class schedule from The Boss Man. More often than not it looks eerily similar to the last. Until this month, that is. Public schools in Korea are closed for holidays until after the Lunar New Year in February. Yet, enrollment at my hagwon is down slightly from the past two months. The other “native English speaker” at my school is no longer working for us. The result? My hours for the month of January are total balls.
I have previously boasted about how awesome it is to get paid full-time for a part-time gig. I used to spend 25-30 hours per week at my school, thanks largely to my classes falling back-to-back-to-back rather than slipping between numerous breaks. This month, The Boss Man decided that it would be awesome to give me two breaks on Mondays and Wednesdays, with two hours falling between my second to last and last classes on each of these days. Rather than spending 5-7 hours per day at work, I now have to spend 8-9 hours. Except on Fridays, where I get off an hour earlier in exchange for showing up to teach yet another room of 5 year old Munchkins. Needless to say, I am less than thrilled with this arrangement. 8-9 hour work days? Are you fucking kidding me? Who works these kinds of hours?! Shut up, Canada. This is exactly why we broke up. If I wanted a real job with real hours I wouldn’t have degraded myself to the level of Talking Monkey and come to Korea in the first place.
Fortunately, other people associated with my hagwon are far more screwed than I am. Because it’s perfectly natural and healthy to find comfort in knowing that other people’s lives suck considerably more than yours! The other “native English speaker” at my school is, as it was initially explained to me, “no longer with us”. After about five minutes of digging I determined that she was actually fired, apparently as a result of low enrollment. One of these days I may point out that “she is no longer with us” is a grossly inappropriate way of delivering this news. Regardless, she was probably fired at least in part for being confrontational and taking a week off to go to Seoul in December. The reality of Korea is that she’s not White, so it’s much harder for her to pull that stuff off; especially when she’s only part time, and not the only “native English speaker”. That and this was just one of several jobs that she was floating. Probably illegally. A pity that she’s gone, as I was planning on using that as collateral should The Boss man ever try to pull anything shifty my way. The Boss Man has his reasons for not being amused at the thought of his Big White Barbie going to the Ministry of Labour. Now, one of those reasons is gone. Sniff.
While this had nothing to do with her firing, her credentials as a “native English speaker” are highly doubtful to anybody that actually has an ear for the language. In other words, I’m the only one in the building that could possibly have picked up on this. Apparently I’m the only one in several buildings that noticed, or she wouldn’t have been floating three different jobs. Let’s just say that there is no where in the English speaking world that one develops an accent like hers. When I first met her, she informed me that she was from Oregon, just outside of Portland. I immediately wanted to call bullshit on this, but thought better of it. It was my first week and it was probably not best to stir the pot with the only other “native English speaker” in the building. I have it stuck in my head that she speaks English with a faint Russian accent, but the truth is that I haven’t a clue what the origins of her accent are. I just know that it sure as fuck isn’t the USA. Or Canada. Or anywhere else that English is the predominant language.
As if Native English Speaker getting fired wasn’t enough to make me feel better about my craptacular hours this month, it turns out that all of the teachers whom haven’t been fire yet are totally screwed too! Isn’t that fantastic? They’re even more fucked than I am! My Korean co-teachers, who already work 5 times harder than I do, have to pick up the slack that is left from Native English Teacher’s departure. I generally teach far more classes than they do. This month, they’re teaching the same number of classes. So while I sit around on break and between classes, marveling at the ease of being a Talking Monkey for Hire, they are busy prepping, calling parents, and grading. Despite my being a total dick at the moment and taking comfort in their misery, I do feel badly for them. I sincerely hope that The Boss Man hires another teacher for next month so that my poor coworkers and friends don’t get burnt out.
The long and the short of this is that my January is going to be total balls. I have to get up earlier, stay at the school longer, and even pull the occasional Saturday. The good news is that the Lunar New Year is right around the corner, at which point I will have a full 5 days off to act like a complete moron again. I didn’t do that nearly enough during my first winter vacation! Big White Barbie Spends Winter Vacation on an Embarrassing Drunken Rampage: The Sequel. Then, I will be able to recover from my Lunar New Year holiday hang over with later start times and shorter working hours, as my hagwon will be back on it’s regular timetable. Ah. Relief.
I have previously boasted about how awesome it is to get paid full-time for a part-time gig. I used to spend 25-30 hours per week at my school, thanks largely to my classes falling back-to-back-to-back rather than slipping between numerous breaks. This month, The Boss Man decided that it would be awesome to give me two breaks on Mondays and Wednesdays, with two hours falling between my second to last and last classes on each of these days. Rather than spending 5-7 hours per day at work, I now have to spend 8-9 hours. Except on Fridays, where I get off an hour earlier in exchange for showing up to teach yet another room of 5 year old Munchkins. Needless to say, I am less than thrilled with this arrangement. 8-9 hour work days? Are you fucking kidding me? Who works these kinds of hours?! Shut up, Canada. This is exactly why we broke up. If I wanted a real job with real hours I wouldn’t have degraded myself to the level of Talking Monkey and come to Korea in the first place.
Fortunately, other people associated with my hagwon are far more screwed than I am. Because it’s perfectly natural and healthy to find comfort in knowing that other people’s lives suck considerably more than yours! The other “native English speaker” at my school is, as it was initially explained to me, “no longer with us”. After about five minutes of digging I determined that she was actually fired, apparently as a result of low enrollment. One of these days I may point out that “she is no longer with us” is a grossly inappropriate way of delivering this news. Regardless, she was probably fired at least in part for being confrontational and taking a week off to go to Seoul in December. The reality of Korea is that she’s not White, so it’s much harder for her to pull that stuff off; especially when she’s only part time, and not the only “native English speaker”. That and this was just one of several jobs that she was floating. Probably illegally. A pity that she’s gone, as I was planning on using that as collateral should The Boss man ever try to pull anything shifty my way. The Boss Man has his reasons for not being amused at the thought of his Big White Barbie going to the Ministry of Labour. Now, one of those reasons is gone. Sniff.
While this had nothing to do with her firing, her credentials as a “native English speaker” are highly doubtful to anybody that actually has an ear for the language. In other words, I’m the only one in the building that could possibly have picked up on this. Apparently I’m the only one in several buildings that noticed, or she wouldn’t have been floating three different jobs. Let’s just say that there is no where in the English speaking world that one develops an accent like hers. When I first met her, she informed me that she was from Oregon, just outside of Portland. I immediately wanted to call bullshit on this, but thought better of it. It was my first week and it was probably not best to stir the pot with the only other “native English speaker” in the building. I have it stuck in my head that she speaks English with a faint Russian accent, but the truth is that I haven’t a clue what the origins of her accent are. I just know that it sure as fuck isn’t the USA. Or Canada. Or anywhere else that English is the predominant language.
As if Native English Speaker getting fired wasn’t enough to make me feel better about my craptacular hours this month, it turns out that all of the teachers whom haven’t been fire yet are totally screwed too! Isn’t that fantastic? They’re even more fucked than I am! My Korean co-teachers, who already work 5 times harder than I do, have to pick up the slack that is left from Native English Teacher’s departure. I generally teach far more classes than they do. This month, they’re teaching the same number of classes. So while I sit around on break and between classes, marveling at the ease of being a Talking Monkey for Hire, they are busy prepping, calling parents, and grading. Despite my being a total dick at the moment and taking comfort in their misery, I do feel badly for them. I sincerely hope that The Boss Man hires another teacher for next month so that my poor coworkers and friends don’t get burnt out.
The long and the short of this is that my January is going to be total balls. I have to get up earlier, stay at the school longer, and even pull the occasional Saturday. The good news is that the Lunar New Year is right around the corner, at which point I will have a full 5 days off to act like a complete moron again. I didn’t do that nearly enough during my first winter vacation! Big White Barbie Spends Winter Vacation on an Embarrassing Drunken Rampage: The Sequel. Then, I will be able to recover from my Lunar New Year holiday hang over with later start times and shorter working hours, as my hagwon will be back on it’s regular timetable. Ah. Relief.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Big White Barbie Declares Korea Broken
This just in: Korea is broken. Totally. Fucking. Broken. So, incredibly broken, that I'm not even sure where one begins to explain it. The mind numbs just thinking about it. It appears that I've officially hit That Stage, whereby I feel that I've earned the right to take an obnoxiously negative and culturally ignorant Time Out. After more than two months of dripping in respectful commentary I'm long overdue for a long winded Korean-hating diatribe, if for no other reason than to make other foreigners embarrassed to be associated with me. Not that they shouldn't already be, but there seems to be some gross misconception here that I'm Some Kind of Wonderful. As my friend's back in The Real World are fully aware, this couldn't be further from the truth. Korea's manner of grossly overrating me is perhaps the only thing that it has going for it. That and my paychecks. And possibly the never ending flow of booze.
Now, before we decide to be huffy and get our panties in a twist over the cultural ignorance that is to come, let it be clear that I happen to think Canada is broken too. I've been bitching about how broken Canada is for the past 25 years. I'm tired of Broken Canada. That's why I came to Korea; I ran out of things to bitch about back home. So, without further ado, here are just a couple of reasons that Korean is fucking broken:
1) Koreans are socially retarded. I don't mean this in the sense that I'm socially retarded. They fail to pull off the Drunken Uncle Without Male Qualities character quite like I do. They skip Drunk Uncle and go straight to Are You Fucking Kidding Me?
To start, Koreans generally meet other people by being introduced via a third party. The Western Way of simply wandering around a bar and talking to complete strangers until you pick one to go home with is simply not done by Proper Koreans. Only Pregnant Foreign Sluts engage in such inappropriate behaviour. And the Japanese, of course. The result is that unless they've been introduced to you, you don't exist to a Korean. The only people that exist are those whom they've been introduced to. Hence, there is no need to be polite to 99% of the population. You can't be polite to people that aren't there! That's crazy talk. Hence, people jump ahead of you in line at the supermarket, shove passed you to get on the subway, and walk right into you when there is nobody else in the room. They're not being rude! You're just not there. Got it?
2) Despite their overwhelming desire to be one, many Koreans hate white people. The Hate-On is so strong that they fail to see the irony in it and appreciate this as the massive inferiority complex that it is. If anybody is equipped to recognize a national inferiority complex, it's a Canadian.
Everywhere you turn in Busan, there is a cosmetic surgery advertisement. For some inexplicable reason, Koreans hate looking Korean. Their ideal is to sport a "high nose", "small face", and a double-eyelid. In other words, their ideal is to have Caucasian features. Being held to such an impossible ideal is grossly unfortunate. Koreans that aren't putting their paychecks on the table to go under the knife in search of a Caucasian identity are no less attractive than those that do. Just don't tell them that! They won't believe you. I've tried.
Everywhere you turn in Busan that there isn't a cosmetic surgery advertisement, there is a little reminder of Uncle Sam. McDonald's, Burger King, Dunkin' Donuts, Hollywood, random MLB signs in shop windows, Coca Cola; Korea is almost the Canada of Asia in this regard. Almost. There is still a distinct Korean identity, which Canadians lack.
What results is that in spite of being held to a Euro-centric beauty ideal, in spite of the abundance of American imports, Koreans are primed from birth to believe that Koreans are the Best People on Earth. Absolutely no other nationality compares to the awesomeness of being Korean. The social hierarchy works something like this: Koreans, other Asians, animals, foreigners. Hence, Koreans pay Random Whitey's a relatively handsome wage to attend their school and Be White. A Random White Face at a private academy is gold to the school's director. Yet, because you're a foreigner, few people actually respect you. You're below chihuahuas on the social hierarchy. It doesn't matter that they want a nose like yours, watch American movies, and just had a dose of McDonald's for lunch. It doesn't matter that you're the native English speaker; the Korean teachers taught them English the correct way, damnit! They're not going to "change-y" it just because some foreigner thinks they know more about pronouncing the English Language than they do. Your place in this society will never be higher than rock bottom. At the end of the day, you will always be the Pregnant, AIDS Ridden, Dirty Foreigner Slut.
Rock on.
Now, before we decide to be huffy and get our panties in a twist over the cultural ignorance that is to come, let it be clear that I happen to think Canada is broken too. I've been bitching about how broken Canada is for the past 25 years. I'm tired of Broken Canada. That's why I came to Korea; I ran out of things to bitch about back home. So, without further ado, here are just a couple of reasons that Korean is fucking broken:
1) Koreans are socially retarded. I don't mean this in the sense that I'm socially retarded. They fail to pull off the Drunken Uncle Without Male Qualities character quite like I do. They skip Drunk Uncle and go straight to Are You Fucking Kidding Me?
To start, Koreans generally meet other people by being introduced via a third party. The Western Way of simply wandering around a bar and talking to complete strangers until you pick one to go home with is simply not done by Proper Koreans. Only Pregnant Foreign Sluts engage in such inappropriate behaviour. And the Japanese, of course. The result is that unless they've been introduced to you, you don't exist to a Korean. The only people that exist are those whom they've been introduced to. Hence, there is no need to be polite to 99% of the population. You can't be polite to people that aren't there! That's crazy talk. Hence, people jump ahead of you in line at the supermarket, shove passed you to get on the subway, and walk right into you when there is nobody else in the room. They're not being rude! You're just not there. Got it?
2) Despite their overwhelming desire to be one, many Koreans hate white people. The Hate-On is so strong that they fail to see the irony in it and appreciate this as the massive inferiority complex that it is. If anybody is equipped to recognize a national inferiority complex, it's a Canadian.
Everywhere you turn in Busan, there is a cosmetic surgery advertisement. For some inexplicable reason, Koreans hate looking Korean. Their ideal is to sport a "high nose", "small face", and a double-eyelid. In other words, their ideal is to have Caucasian features. Being held to such an impossible ideal is grossly unfortunate. Koreans that aren't putting their paychecks on the table to go under the knife in search of a Caucasian identity are no less attractive than those that do. Just don't tell them that! They won't believe you. I've tried.
Everywhere you turn in Busan that there isn't a cosmetic surgery advertisement, there is a little reminder of Uncle Sam. McDonald's, Burger King, Dunkin' Donuts, Hollywood, random MLB signs in shop windows, Coca Cola; Korea is almost the Canada of Asia in this regard. Almost. There is still a distinct Korean identity, which Canadians lack.
What results is that in spite of being held to a Euro-centric beauty ideal, in spite of the abundance of American imports, Koreans are primed from birth to believe that Koreans are the Best People on Earth. Absolutely no other nationality compares to the awesomeness of being Korean. The social hierarchy works something like this: Koreans, other Asians, animals, foreigners. Hence, Koreans pay Random Whitey's a relatively handsome wage to attend their school and Be White. A Random White Face at a private academy is gold to the school's director. Yet, because you're a foreigner, few people actually respect you. You're below chihuahuas on the social hierarchy. It doesn't matter that they want a nose like yours, watch American movies, and just had a dose of McDonald's for lunch. It doesn't matter that you're the native English speaker; the Korean teachers taught them English the correct way, damnit! They're not going to "change-y" it just because some foreigner thinks they know more about pronouncing the English Language than they do. Your place in this society will never be higher than rock bottom. At the end of the day, you will always be the Pregnant, AIDS Ridden, Dirty Foreigner Slut.
Rock on.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Barbie Scores With the Kimbap Lady
My local kimbap-restaurant lady wants my babies. That or she thinks that I'm a stupid foreigner. It's probably a little bit of both, really. Either way, the free apricots and breast groping guarentee that I come out a winner.
As most of us are, I'm a creature of habit. When I'm comfortable with something, I tend to stick with it. Even if it's fucking awful. I drink terrible beer; it's cheap and I'm used to it. I tend to go to the same PC Room; I like the free "coffee" (this would more aptly be described as chemicals-in-a-cup) and the hospitality that I receive from the people who run the joint. I go to the McDonald's near my school 2-3 times a week for no other reason than the fact that it's right up the street and the lady who works the counter is nice to me. I miss her if too many days pass without a visit! I don't even really like McDonald's anymore. I still sleep with a fucking teddy bear for no better reason than it's the same one I've had since I was 7 and I've yet to find a good reason to break the habit. I'm sorry, but "Rebecca, you're fucking 25" is not good enough reason to break up with Zeddy. We're tight. I occasionally listen to really shitty music because I've become comfortable with hearing it. I know that it's bad, but old-skool Paula Abdul is just so damn catchy! I could continue on this tangent for another hour and lose my remaining two readers, but it's 5am and I need to put up a front that I actually have something better to do right now. I will conclude the tangent by pointing out that this also serves as a sufficient explanation of Rebecca's generally sordid history with men. In my pre-Barbie days I would intentionally run myself head first into Bad Ideas with regularlity, because that's what I was used to. There is comfort in familiarity, painful as it may be. I may rectify this during my days as Big White Barbie; or perhaps I'll just perfect the art. Either way, I digress. This is a topic for another day.
Now, my being a creature of habit naturally results in my regularly dining at the same local kimbap restaurant. I first started eating there as a result of the lady from the bar spotting me a free meal in exchange for my stupidity, as detailed in my Big White Barbie Eats Out post. I have since been going in 4-5 times per week. Each time I go in I seem to know a new Korean word or two, which always results in a giggle or two from the Kimbap Lady. For the first couple of weeks I would always order two rolls of kimbap. Hence, whenever I entered the restaurant she would smile, ramble some blah at me, and say "kimbap?" I've thrown her for a loop lately by going in for dinner and getting some variation of bi bim bap. Her response to this has been to sit with me after setting the bi bim bap platter on the table, so that she can mix it together for me and spoon feed me. You think that I'm kidding, but I'm not. This is how she rolls. I had eaten bi bim bap prior to coming to Korea and really don't need the Kimbap Lady to show me The Bi Bim Bap Ropes, but it seems to make her day to swing with a Big White Barbie, so who am I to crush her soul?
On Tuesday I ordered dol sot bi bim bap, which requires significantly less mixing then bi bim bap without the pretty hot bowl. Hence, there was really no reason for Kimbap Lady to coddle me. So, I spent most of my meal alone. This was nice, but I'm not going to pretend that I don't enjoy the company. As an aside, you know that something is wrong when you're looking to the Kimbap Lady to keep you company. Near the end of the meal, Kimbap Lady randomly comes over and takes a seat across from me. She watches me eat for a minute. I smile and tell her in Korean that it "tastes good!" Then I rub my belly and smile or something, because I'm such an excellent communicator. She continues to watch me and I decide that 1) this is a little weird and 2) if she's going to be sitting there she may as well be serving a greater purpose. I point to a side dish in front of me and say "kimchi". Then I point at one beside it and shrug. Kimbap Lady kindly tells me what it's called, and I repeat the word back. We go through this process for the entire collection of side dishes, after which point Kimbap Lady is Big White Barbi-ed out and goes back to the kitchen. Upon her return to the kitchen, I hear her reiterate the entire conversation that she just had with me to the Other Kimbap Lady. They both giggle. I learned new words and had some company. Everybody wins.
All that and I still haven't hit the good part. I totally got some action from Kimbap Lady! I was walking out the door backwards and waving goodbye after having paid for my meal, when Kimbap Lady took one look at my undone coat and sweater, shook her head and informed me in Korean that "it's cold!" She marched over to me, grabbed my scarf and started wrapping it frantically around my neck. She then tied it into a little bow, as only a Korean would, and patted it down my chest. It was at this point that I realize that doing up my scarf was totally just a cover for her to paw at my breasts. Kimbap Lady is a smooth playa, yo!
Kimbap Lady and I have a special, special bond. I'm her Big White Barbie. She's my Kimbap Lady. She gets to feel me up. I get felt up. Everybody wins.
As most of us are, I'm a creature of habit. When I'm comfortable with something, I tend to stick with it. Even if it's fucking awful. I drink terrible beer; it's cheap and I'm used to it. I tend to go to the same PC Room; I like the free "coffee" (this would more aptly be described as chemicals-in-a-cup) and the hospitality that I receive from the people who run the joint. I go to the McDonald's near my school 2-3 times a week for no other reason than the fact that it's right up the street and the lady who works the counter is nice to me. I miss her if too many days pass without a visit! I don't even really like McDonald's anymore. I still sleep with a fucking teddy bear for no better reason than it's the same one I've had since I was 7 and I've yet to find a good reason to break the habit. I'm sorry, but "Rebecca, you're fucking 25" is not good enough reason to break up with Zeddy. We're tight. I occasionally listen to really shitty music because I've become comfortable with hearing it. I know that it's bad, but old-skool Paula Abdul is just so damn catchy! I could continue on this tangent for another hour and lose my remaining two readers, but it's 5am and I need to put up a front that I actually have something better to do right now. I will conclude the tangent by pointing out that this also serves as a sufficient explanation of Rebecca's generally sordid history with men. In my pre-Barbie days I would intentionally run myself head first into Bad Ideas with regularlity, because that's what I was used to. There is comfort in familiarity, painful as it may be. I may rectify this during my days as Big White Barbie; or perhaps I'll just perfect the art. Either way, I digress. This is a topic for another day.
Now, my being a creature of habit naturally results in my regularly dining at the same local kimbap restaurant. I first started eating there as a result of the lady from the bar spotting me a free meal in exchange for my stupidity, as detailed in my Big White Barbie Eats Out post. I have since been going in 4-5 times per week. Each time I go in I seem to know a new Korean word or two, which always results in a giggle or two from the Kimbap Lady. For the first couple of weeks I would always order two rolls of kimbap. Hence, whenever I entered the restaurant she would smile, ramble some blah at me, and say "kimbap?" I've thrown her for a loop lately by going in for dinner and getting some variation of bi bim bap. Her response to this has been to sit with me after setting the bi bim bap platter on the table, so that she can mix it together for me and spoon feed me. You think that I'm kidding, but I'm not. This is how she rolls. I had eaten bi bim bap prior to coming to Korea and really don't need the Kimbap Lady to show me The Bi Bim Bap Ropes, but it seems to make her day to swing with a Big White Barbie, so who am I to crush her soul?
On Tuesday I ordered dol sot bi bim bap, which requires significantly less mixing then bi bim bap without the pretty hot bowl. Hence, there was really no reason for Kimbap Lady to coddle me. So, I spent most of my meal alone. This was nice, but I'm not going to pretend that I don't enjoy the company. As an aside, you know that something is wrong when you're looking to the Kimbap Lady to keep you company. Near the end of the meal, Kimbap Lady randomly comes over and takes a seat across from me. She watches me eat for a minute. I smile and tell her in Korean that it "tastes good!" Then I rub my belly and smile or something, because I'm such an excellent communicator. She continues to watch me and I decide that 1) this is a little weird and 2) if she's going to be sitting there she may as well be serving a greater purpose. I point to a side dish in front of me and say "kimchi". Then I point at one beside it and shrug. Kimbap Lady kindly tells me what it's called, and I repeat the word back. We go through this process for the entire collection of side dishes, after which point Kimbap Lady is Big White Barbi-ed out and goes back to the kitchen. Upon her return to the kitchen, I hear her reiterate the entire conversation that she just had with me to the Other Kimbap Lady. They both giggle. I learned new words and had some company. Everybody wins.
All that and I still haven't hit the good part. I totally got some action from Kimbap Lady! I was walking out the door backwards and waving goodbye after having paid for my meal, when Kimbap Lady took one look at my undone coat and sweater, shook her head and informed me in Korean that "it's cold!" She marched over to me, grabbed my scarf and started wrapping it frantically around my neck. She then tied it into a little bow, as only a Korean would, and patted it down my chest. It was at this point that I realize that doing up my scarf was totally just a cover for her to paw at my breasts. Kimbap Lady is a smooth playa, yo!
Kimbap Lady and I have a special, special bond. I'm her Big White Barbie. She's my Kimbap Lady. She gets to feel me up. I get felt up. Everybody wins.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Big White Barbie Misses Poutine
There aren't really many material things that I miss from home. Busan is a large city and there is very little that I have been unable to find for myself here. Nearly everything that I would have listed as either essentials or trivial desires prior to coming and then some are available to me, often for cheaper than they would be at home.
I was told prior to departure that I ought to bring a lot of deodorant as it's extremely difficult to find here. Now, I'm not sure where exactly this rumour took off, but I found deodorant without even bloody looking for it. It is a little bit more expensive here and there isn't as much variety, but seriously: How essential is it for you to have your favourite kind of deodorant at 4 bucks a pop? My having to pay an extra two-three bucks per pop every couple of months is hardly going to break the bank. Given how little it costs if almost everything else here, it's a fair trade off.
It was also recommended to me prior to leaving Canada that I bring a ton of my favourite feminine products. God forbid I not use Tampax! If I don't have my favourite blue plastic applicator with finger grips I will just die! Seriously? This just in: Korean women menstrate too! And sometimes they even use feminine products to stop the flow! Hence, it was grossly unnecessary to pack a four month supply of tampons. I could have used that space for cans of gravy, the one thing that I seem unable to find in abundance here.
I didn't bring a computer or phone to Korea, nor do I intend on purchases either for a while yet. I'm driving my friends and coworkers here mad by refusing to foot the bill for a cheap phone. I'm cheap, okay? It's how I roll. Eventually I'm going to realize that this is dramatically impacting my social life, but right now I like that I can only be found when I want to be.
I could drag this post out... but I'm tired. My throat hurts. This morning I was in such a funk that I thought I was snapping. Again. Then I remembered that I just get horrible bouts of PMS. That is more than likely all it was, given that it went away shortly after I remembered that. Regardless, I don't really miss anything material from home at all. Everything I need to buy can be bought here.
The lack of cheap, abundant deodorant options is not to blame for my sleepless nights in Busan.
I was told prior to departure that I ought to bring a lot of deodorant as it's extremely difficult to find here. Now, I'm not sure where exactly this rumour took off, but I found deodorant without even bloody looking for it. It is a little bit more expensive here and there isn't as much variety, but seriously: How essential is it for you to have your favourite kind of deodorant at 4 bucks a pop? My having to pay an extra two-three bucks per pop every couple of months is hardly going to break the bank. Given how little it costs if almost everything else here, it's a fair trade off.
It was also recommended to me prior to leaving Canada that I bring a ton of my favourite feminine products. God forbid I not use Tampax! If I don't have my favourite blue plastic applicator with finger grips I will just die! Seriously? This just in: Korean women menstrate too! And sometimes they even use feminine products to stop the flow! Hence, it was grossly unnecessary to pack a four month supply of tampons. I could have used that space for cans of gravy, the one thing that I seem unable to find in abundance here.
I didn't bring a computer or phone to Korea, nor do I intend on purchases either for a while yet. I'm driving my friends and coworkers here mad by refusing to foot the bill for a cheap phone. I'm cheap, okay? It's how I roll. Eventually I'm going to realize that this is dramatically impacting my social life, but right now I like that I can only be found when I want to be.
I could drag this post out... but I'm tired. My throat hurts. This morning I was in such a funk that I thought I was snapping. Again. Then I remembered that I just get horrible bouts of PMS. That is more than likely all it was, given that it went away shortly after I remembered that. Regardless, I don't really miss anything material from home at all. Everything I need to buy can be bought here.
The lack of cheap, abundant deodorant options is not to blame for my sleepless nights in Busan.
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