50 days out from the KSAT

The third graders (seniors) at I-dong High School and I don't interact much, aside from a few cheery "hello!"s in the cafeteria or a nervous wave in the hallway, as they remain sequestered on the third floor, studying furiously for the KSAT (수능), the giant end-of-childhood exam that tests them on everything they've ever learned or heard in the history of their lives. It basically determines what they will be able to do for the rest of their lives. It's an enormous milestone and possible turning point in the life of every Korean. It's intimidating and nerve-wracking, to say the least.

Yesterday marked 50 days until the KSAT (November 12th), and Ms. Hwang, my adoptive Korean teacher and English pupil, was throwing a party for her homeroom class. She bought a cake from Paris Baguette and invited me to share it with them and give her students a good luck message.

Because they never see me, they get really excited when I come to visit their class. They all screamed when I walked in and got out their cameras and phones to take pictures of me.

The Korean paparazzi

The cake had tomatoes on it

They asked me to sing a song, and refused to take "no" for an answer, even when I told them I couldn't think of one to sing off the top of my head. "Justin Timberlake Sexy Back!" one girl yelled, so I sang the first couple of lines while everyone clapped and cheered. I don't think they could even hear me above their own din. I probably could have just mumbled anything and they wouldn't have noticed.

A little MJ too

Then they cut the cake, gave me the first piece, then devoured the rest in a matter of seconds in a flurry of frosting and fruit. Ms. Hwang and I ended up with some on our faces. I left them a good luck message on their white board - Ms. Hwang told me later that many of the girls (as well as herself) took pictures of the message after I left.

Weekend in Seoul

Lisa and I haven't spent much time in Seoul since arriving in Korea 7 months ago (numbers like that- 7! -have become surprisingly unimportant to me anymore), though I never really had an itch to go. Seoul seems so far away, crowded and polluted, that its charms and attractions never held much appeal for me. I think now I considered Seoul with disdain mostly because I didn't know what I was missing.

Bella, a friend of ours from Peace Corps in Kenya, flew into Seoul last week from San Francisco. We couldn't wait for her to come all the way out to Pohang to see her, so we flew into Seoul over the weekend instead. Tried to fly, that is. Flights from Pohang to Seoul are surprisingly cheap (around $100, not much more expensive than a round-trip bus or train ticket) and incredibly fast (1 hour, just enough time for the flight attendants to serve you a cup of coffee and throw it away) so it has become our preferred mode of travel to the city. Unfortunately, there is only one evening flight out of Pohang each day, and on Friday that flight happened to be canceled when the plane allegedly began smoking. It was difficult to get the full story, since everything was coming over the intercom in Korean. Luckily a Good Korean-Samaritan bystander filled us in, and made sure we got on one of Asian Air's (free!) Seoul-bound buses. Six hours later, at 2am, we collapsed into bar chairs in Insadong with Bella, Blake, Rob, and Jeane a sheet and a half to the wind already, having been forced to drink for us in our absence. We quickly caught up and stumbled into our hotel at 6am - 1 hour before Bella's scheduled DMZ tour.


The next day (while Bella was off on a still-drunk-and-then-very-hungover DMZ tour) we made for Itaewon, probably Seoul's most popular expat (and military...uhhh) hangout. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that foreigners outnumber Koreans in this neighborhood. WE were there for some of the same reasons as the other non-Asians: good international food (enchiladas, anyone??) and Whatthebook, Korea's most well-known (and only, for all I know) English bookstore. We made it back to Insadong in the early evening, several hours, and several paperback pounds, later.

After a glorious nap we set off on our pilgrimage to find a particular jazz bar that Jeane had discovered on the torn-off page of a free tourist guide book. We knew nothing about the bar except that it had "jazz" and "live" in the same sentence in the description, so we did not question the suggestion. The jaunt took us through Hongdae, the artsy neighborhood home to Honggik University, street vendors peddling everything from used sunglasses to homemade woven-yarn cell phone charms, a store called Condomania (yeah, it's exactly what it sounds like), and random cool art in random cool places.

The next morning we finally made it to the puer tea house that Rob & Jeane have been raving about (literally, they're quite mad about it), and Lisa and I (and Blake and Bella, too, I imagine) were instantly hooked. Looking at the pictures it's not hard to see why.

Legitimate puer tea is notoriously difficult to find - according to Kim Eun Joo, the woman who runs the place, only 5% of the puer tea market is real. That is, fermented naturally and not through a chemical process that speeds up the aging of the puer tea leaf. Authentic puer tea will be dried and fermented naturally over a period of 16-60 years. There are some purported health benefits to drinking the tea, but from what I can tell the main benefits are metaphysical. After several cups of well-brewed tea you begin to feel an overwhelming sensation of relaxation, and your body begins to tingle. Some old puer tea can get really expensive, and we asked Ms. Kim what the 8 million won (8,000USD) tea brick was like. "It's better than fantastic," she said. "You can forget all of your worries and troubles. You begin to feel extremely generous with everyone around you." Generous enough to give away 8 million won worth of tea, I asked? She laughed. "Not that generous."

Later in the day we attended one of Seoul's last shows of Rent the musical, featuring 3 of the original Broadway cast members. It was expensive (70,000 won - 40k seats were sold out) but utterly worth it. I've never seen a live show I enjoyed as much.

Luckily the trip back was much easier, thanks to an on-time flight to Pohang. Now we've got another free trip to Seoul in our pocket which, judging from the time we had this weekend, will be sooner than later.

Pohang Steelers win the 2009 Korean League

Pohang beat Busan 5-1 at home yesterday, in the second championship meeting this month, to clinch the top spot in the 2009 Korean League. During the previous final match on September 2nd, the two teams tied 1-1 in Busan. Goals by Hwang Jin Sung, Denilson (Pohang's star Brazilian striker), Kim Ki Dong, and Kim Tae Su contributed to the win. Pohang will play Bunyodkor of Uzbekistan in the Asian Champions League quarterfinals on September 23.

Philippines III: Alona Beach

In the lower part of the Philippines' 7000+ islands, Alona beach cups the southern end of Panglao island, a small teardrop of land just beneath Bohol, and connected to it by a short car bridge. Panglao is relatively flat, though its sole 100m high hill provides just enough challenge for a motorbike taxi, carrying two passengers, to struggle through a slow crawl to conquer it. The drive from Tagbilaran, Bohol's capital, to Alona beach, is breezy and pleasant, and winds along well-paved roads past small traditional huts set back amongst banana plants and palm trees, with chickens scratching and scrawny cattle lazing in their dirt yards. The scene is not unlike any tropical developing nation, though among the huts and woven houses it is easy to spot the beneficiaries of the foreign remittance of Filipinos abroad - 14 billion USD, the 3rd largest in the world - with their posh cement houses and driveway gates and landscaped lawns. The roads that cover Panglao and Bohol both are well-built and easily accessible.

On the eastern end of Alona Beach you'll stumble into Oops! Bar (and stumble out later, much drunker), a cozy full-service establishment, the kind of place that you can spend an entire day within spitting distance of and never tire of it. It's one of the cheapest places to stay on the strip, with traditional thatched-roof and woven-wall huts going for 1000 pesos (20USD). You can eat around the world on their extensive, inexpensive menu of items ranging from regional Filipino dishes to chicken cordon bleu and a creamy crab and corn chowder. But the main attraction, as the large wooden sign posted overhead will remind you, is the bar.

Well-known for its lively Saturday night discos, Oops! Bar offers a strong cocktail menu and a breezy beach patio. It's comfortable - and cheap! - enough that it's not hard to let the bar's twice-daily happy hours slip by unnoticed. But the bar staff will look out for you, and from 6-7 and 9-10 they'll remind you of the buy-one-get-one San Miguels or a mixed drink of house selection.

Alona Beach is small - only about 500 yards from end to end - but it is home to at least 6 different dive shops, a variety of cuisines (italian, thai, and plenty of filipino), and an endless stream of Tourism Bureau-trained senior citizen masseurs who are happy to throw a blanket down anywhere and work out your kinks for $5 an hour. Aside from the massages, and the $4 knock-off sunglasses, though, the overall prices are higher on Alona than elsewhere around the island. But it's a short walk off the main strip to cheaper fares on food, drinks, and souvenirs. Flip flops selling for 300 pesos in a convenience store along the beach could be had for 40 if you are willing to walk 5 minutes down the road.

If you're interested in diving, there is no shortage of dive shops willing to take your money. If you plan to do a dive course or dive for a few days, though, some may also be willing to accept less of it. Several dive shops, housed within hotels or budget accommodations, can cut you a deal if you book a dive trip with a few nights' stay. Peter's House, for example, home to Genesis Divers, has been known to take 50% off the regular room rate for a dive&stay package.

Alona beach is easy to access from anywhere in the Philippines. From Manila, fly to Tagbilaran on Cebu Pacific Airlines for 899 pesos (under 20USD). Take a 25 minute motorcycle taxi for 2 (250 pesos), a taxi (400+ pesos) or for the most budget-conscious traveler, stuff your gear into a crowded jeepney (30 pesos) and tell the tout in the back where you're headed. They'll make sure you get where you want to go.

Philippines Part II

The biggest planned event of our trip was the PADI Open Water certification course. Neither Lisa nor I had ever really been scuba diving (outside of a pool, once, in Tenerife), and were getting really excited the more we talked, and watched youtube videos, about it. My only trepidation was one that I think is probably hard-wired into most of the planet's human population; a fear of the unknown. We know shamefully little about the ocean and its marine biosphere, and I personally knew (and still know) nothing about the dangers of aquatic life. I tend to think everything is pretty dangerous - which, it turns out, is not a bad philosophy of diving.

Our friends Ara and Ruthie set up our dive course with Alona Divers, a dive shop on Alona beach, at the South end of Panglao island. Since we were visiting in August, during the Philippines' low season, there were no other divers doing courses at the shop so we basically had the run of the place. Our dive instructor, a young Chinese woman named Danni, had come to work on a temporary basis in place of the more permanent dive instructor who was on a home holiday. She had been diving for about 6 years, instructing for four, and for the last 6 months or so she had been living and instructing in the Maldives. Not a bad gig, I'd say. Peter, the German owner of the shop, and Maritess, the shop manager (and possibly Peter's wife), hung around during the day to make sure things were going smoothly and because, I assume, it was on the freaking beach. Who wouldn't want to go to work every day if work is a dive shop and your office opens onto sand?

A good portion of the course consisted of watching 5 different 45 minute PADI videos, which we had to watch in their entirety. Even though we watched them on a TV in front of panoramic windows that were open to the ocean breeze and a stunning view of palm fronds and white sand, I couldn't help but think that it was a shame we didn't finish this part BEFORE the trip. Like, while we were sitting at our desks in school with nothing to do during an exam week. But even 4 1/2 hours seems like a paltry part of a ten day trip, so I guess all things considered it wasn't time wasted. Plus we could drink beer and order food from the neighboring Filipino restaurant while we watched them.

We also spent a great deal of time underwater, practicing the skills demonstrated in the video, like removing, replacing, and clearing our masks, taking off our BCD (buoyancy control device) and weight belts and putting them back on, achieving neutral buoyancy (to float in mid-water without moving), etc. The benefit of doing the course in the Philippines was that we got to demonstrate these skills surrounded by swarms of tropical fish. The locale besides, it felt pretty amazing just to BE underwater for 30-45 minutes without surfacing, or to look up and see choppy waves 18M overhead.

I suppose it felt so amazing mainly because it's something human beings aren't supposed to be able to do. And like anything humans do that we aren't naturally able to, diving isn't without its dangers. The PADI course makes clear from the beginning that diving isn't for the faint of heart (literally), and that you can die if you do something simple like, oh, HOLD YOUR BREATH. I, for one, had never considered the idea that holding your breath underwater could be dangerous. And if you're skin diving without any sort of breathing apparatus, it's not really. But because you're breathing compressed air, when you're down 10M you have more air in your lungs than you would at the surface (your lungs take in the same volume of air, but it's denser). So if you rise while holding your breath, your lungs can explode.

There are other dangers as well, which Lisa and I were unfortunately privy to (though Ara and Ruthie somehow escaped their grasp). Another reason that surfacing too quickly is bad, as Lisa discovered accidentally on our third open water dive, is that air in your nasal cavity is also expanding. And while, if you surface slowly enough, it will work its way out of your ears, if you surface too rapidly it causes IMMENSE pressure and pain. Lisa later said that it felt like someone had driven a knife through her eardrum. It lasted for upwards of an hour and later developed into an equally painful ear infection.

On the same third open water dive, I got a taste of decompression sickness, or "the bends", as the diving community calls it. After we surfaced, and while Lisa was still wracked with pain, I grabbed the ladder to the boat and hoisted myself up to the first step. But that's as far as I could get. Suddenly it felt like blood was draining from the left side of my body and it went numb. I couldn't lift my leg to step into the boat. I thought at the time that this was very inconvenient, and even after the captain helped me aboard and I less-than-gingerly flopped down on the bench, I didn't feel worried. Even on the way back to shore, as my vision was washing out and Danni's face disappearing while she tried to figure out what had happened, I only felt silly. I mean, I couldn't control my leg, for christ sake. My mind controls my leg, and my mind is telling my leg to move! It's simple physiology, but for some reason my leg didn't understand that reasoning. I felt that if I willed it enough I could overcome whatever the trapped nitrogen bubbles in my body were doing to it.

Eventually, after gaining enough strenth to hobble off of the boat and into the dive shop, I gained a feeling of relative normalcy again. Only later was I told that Peter freaked out and was ready to call a speed boat to take me to the nearest decompression chamber, about an hour away. If my decompression sickness were more serious, and I hadn't been taken to the chamber, I would have died, and Peter would have had quite a mess on his hands. Peter kept questioning Danni about the dive - how long we had been under, how deep we went, etc, all things that could have contributed to my state. And even though it was our deepest (18m) and longest (~45mins) dive yet, I realized later it was probably the late drinking I had done the night before that caused the decompression sickness more than anything. I felt bad about that, but it strengthened my resolve to be a safer diver, which in the end can only be a good thing.

It also turned into a sort of boon for all of us, since Peter told us to take the afternoon off - no diving. That meant that the next day we were able to accompany a fun dive boat out to Balacasag island - one of the best dive sites in the world - for our fourth and final open water dive, as well as a fun dive after lunch. We completed our dive course accompanied by no less than four sea turtles, some pufferfish, and a scorpionfish to boot.

The scorpionfish is a tiny splash of color and beauty - a sure signal, we were told later, of danger (if its name didn't already give that away). Most underwater creatures are relatively harmless, though, as long as you don't provoke or agitate them. A general rule of diving thumb is that if something is beautiful, ugly, or doesn't run away from you, don't touch it. Which, to me, is pretty much everything underwater, so that simple guideline pretty much solved my fear dilemma for me: as long as I don't touch anything, I probably won't get hurt. And hell if I'm going to touch anything.