"Management Training"

On Friday the English department at the university had its annual MT, or "management training" retreat.

The MT is, in theory, a time for the fourth-year English majors to co-mingle with all of the incoming freshmen, and to inculcate in them the honorable traditions passed down to them throughout generations.

In reality, it's the night where freshmen students learn how to get really drunk. And not just with their senior counterparts, but also with...wait for it...their professors.

The afternoon started out quite tamely. The students had rented a "pension" (Konglish for a rental house that sleeps a dozen or more) out in the middle of nowhere and carted in a busload of booze, meat, and, well, fresh meat. There were six foreign professors in attendance. While the seniors grilled up stacks of sliced pork, we taught a few of the freshmen how to throw a frisbee and taught them an impromptu game we made up that involved large cardboard tubes, a frisbee, and drinking.

Later we played some games that the freshman organizers planned, such as:

• "Contest Line of Eating Foods that Should Not be Eaten by Themselves, Like Onions, Garlic, and Hot Peppers,"
• "Rolling Dice and Moving Pieces of Tape on a Large Circular Piece of Paper,"
• "Drinking Random Cups of Liquid,"and
• "Blowing Up Balloons and Drawing Faces on Them" (I don't think this last one was a game but rather just a waste of balloons.)

We also played a team game in which the organizer would yell out a word or name ("Elephant!" "King Kong!" "Super Junior!"), and all eight blindfolded team members would pose. More people doing the same pose meant more points.

I'm not sure what the winner got, which means there must have been some less-than-forthright-judging methods, because I - of course - performed spectacularly.

The night also included much karaoke, cake, dancing, and this guy:

He and his friend sang this song anytime someone was forced to drink in any game they were playing. Which was pretty much every turn of every game.

In Support of Public Intoxication

Drinking is a big part of Korean culture - that's not news. Drinking is heavily encouraged almost everywhere. 

Public intoxication is not a crime here (or if it is, it is never enforced). It's not uncommon to see grown men passed out in parks or on the sidewalk. Hiking groups carry soju and beer with them on the hike to drink along the way. Beer is sold on trains and in bus stations for the ride.

Perhaps one of the most transparent endorsements of public drinking is the attitudes of convenience store owners. They keep corkscrews and bottle openers behind the counter, so you don't have to wait until you get home to enjoy your adult beverage. You can drink it on your way out the door.

Korean Flight Attendants

In the US back in the mid-20th century, and up into the 90's, flight attendants possessed a certain mystique. Airlines flaunted their stewardesses like bikini models, bringing sex appeal into the air in a way that would change airline travel forever. Well, until the 2000's, anyway, when some airlines (*cough* Delta *cough*) started hiring average-looking people (and men) to vend microwave meals along their aisles. American flight attendants have lost the allure they once possessed.

In Korea,  however, where discrimination based on appearance is smiled upon, the attraction is still alive and well. Young Korean girls dream of growing tall enough and pretty enough to fly the skies with Korean Air. Their beauty, grace, and impeccable grooming is internationally renowned, as it is for many Asian carriers. 

Several universities in Korea actually offer a "flight attendant" major, where (girl only!) students can practice their manners, dress and geography skills to perfection.

At Uiduk university, the freshmen are required to stand by the front entrance at times, in their standard student uniforms, to greet every car and/or pedestrian that enters the campus.

Mud Festival: Keep your Shirt On

I went out to Boryeong over the weekend with a couple of friends to make arrangements for the Boryeong Mud Festival trip in July. 

Along the beach the city council had posted entries in a photo contest from last year's mud festival. There were probably three dozen photos in total, and all of them were quite good. Most focused on foreigners enjoying themselves in the mud.

One of the pictures, though, was a bit surprising.

The actual photo isn't blurred

My friend Justin and I, discussing opinions on the presence of the photo along the beach, felt shock and a bit of mild outrage, but couldn't decide who was causing it - the girl who posed so carelessly for a professional photographer, or the photographer who entered it into a contest.

Justin brought up the issue of privacy, which is always heavily guarded in Korean society. If this were a picture of a Korean girl it would NEVER get posted. This is true. Koreans tend to think of foreigners as a funny sideshow, without rights or feelings of our own.

But then again, Korean girls don't flash strangers.

It's not surprising that girls do this at mudfest. Some girls get drunk and like to flash people. Big deal. If you want to take a picture of some poor drunk girl's breasts and keep it for your own personal records, that's fine by me (and apparently her). 

I don't know if the photographer had the girl's permission to share the photo. But to post it along the beachfront in a photo contest is in extremely poor taste.

Soccer Tennis - 족구

I used to go to a lot of pretty intense soccer camps when I was younger. During breaks we would pass time by inventing new games with a soccer ball, from juggling competitions to obstacle courses. A common favorite was soccer tennis, played two-a-side on a regular tennis court.

Sepak takraw in Myanmar

I was somewhat familiar with sepak takraw, the SE Asian sport played with a small wicker ball over a volleyball net.

But I never considered soccer tennis more than a distraction during times when we weren't actually playing soccer.

It turns out that it's a real sport all on its own.

On a sunny day you will find a group of old-ish men playing the game leisurely (though the games often get quite heated) in many parks around Korea. But it's not just old people who play. Koreans take soccer tennis (called "jok-gu" [족구] in Korean) very seriously.

Last weekend my soccer team was booked on a pitch next to a 족구 tournament, where teams of four uniformed players squared off against each other on a series of lined turf courts. Each team had a coach, and each match had three referees officiating. Some of the teams were amazing to watch, with flying kicks and spins and smash winners every other play.

I never knew it was such a serious sport. And not only in Korea, either. Apparently the origins of the global sport date back to as early as the 1920's. I feel like I completely missed the boat on this one.

http://www.soccertennis.org/

Driving in Korea: Traffic Cameras

One of the worst things about driving in the US is the paranoia. It often seems that the main duty of police departments in many states is to trap and ticket errant speeders - on the highway, in the city, or on a dirt road behind your house. No matter where you go, a cop has the jurisdiction to pull you over and give you a ticket. They lie in wait - in hiding - for HOURS, as if speeding were the nation's biggest crime problem. (It's obviously not, and everyone knows that it's how police departments get paid. In a budget crunch there are suddenly more fast drivers on the road!)

Speeding is not a problem. It seems much more dangerous for speeding drivers to be constantly distracted, worried that every shadow and light flash on the road is their next ticket, braking and speeding and changing gears and lanes, always attempting to outsmart or outspeed the law.

Korean cops don't really bother with traffic violations, at least on the scale that their American counterparts do. The police officers that are on patrol serve more as a reminder that they're around than a threat of any particular action. Though I've heard it's possible, I have NEVER seen a Korean cop in hiding, trying to catch an unsuspecting traffic violator. Police cars here literally do not turn off their red-and-whites. Ever. It's as if they are actually trying to PREVENT crime - imagine that! - drawing attention to their presence instead of slinking around in shadows and trying to catch you red-handed.

Perhaps this is material for another post. I'm slightly off-topic here.

Cameras have replaced cops in Korea as the babysitters of the roadway. Speeding is controlled almost exclusively by CCTV. Cameras with radar guns are mounted above the street at varying intervals to take pictures of speeding violators as they pass. Tickets are mailed to the driver.

Korea doesn't even try to hide the cameras - not only are they out in plain site, there are street signs WARNING you of their presence ("Police Enforcement CCTV in 200m"). GPS units - a staple in virtually every Korean car nowadays - warn you when they are approaching and tell you when to slow down.

[If you're speeding, the GPS flashes red and beeps to warn you that a camera is approaching - the red exclamation point in the video - and stops once you pass under it.]

Though this kind of enforcement might never fly in the US (*sob* violation of privacy!), it works for Korea. It's a pain in the ass to keep speeding up and slowing down every few kilometers, so drivers tend to maintain a consistent pace. It actually makes the police force seem like they're trying to solve a dangerous situation, instead of using a dangerous situation purely as a money-making scheme.

Double Parked

Last night I came out of a friend's apartment building to discover my car trapped behind a double-parked sedan. To make matters worse, there were empty parking spots on both sides of me! Back home in the US, I might have been excused for whatever crime of passion this discovery drove me to.

But in Korea, where space comes at a premium (population density is 15 times higher than in the US), it's really not such a big deal. Double parking is such a common practice that people post their cell phone number on their windshield so that trapped drivers can call them when they want to leave.

So I was only mildly annoyed when I found myself blocked in, in anticipation of the struggle to communicate my dilemma in Korean over the phone and then wait for the owner to come down and move his car three feet in either direction.

But then I actually took a glance around the offending car. He hadn't posted his cell phone number anywhere, the jerk! I stole a quick look to see if anyone was in earshot of a shattering windshield. The security guard in his nearby quarters put a swift end to that idea. I decided instead to knock on the guard's door. This seemed a situation that warranted some official police-like action.

He seemed quite surprised to see me, even after I explained the circumstances. He shook his head, and put his hands out in front of him and moved them forward in a motion that suggested pushing. Alright! I almost shouted. Let's go kick his ass!

But then I realized he wasn't talking about pushing the owner around. He was talking about the vehicle.

The car was, in fact, unlocked. The parking brake was off. And the car was in neutral. I could have done a lot more than shatter the guy's windshield. I could have pushed his car off a goddamn cliff. (For the record, I didn't.)

His car slid out of the way with such a gentle nudge that it should have been a crime.

Saunas and Jjimjilbangs [찜질방] in Korea

You gotta love Korean bathhouse culture. Sure, it can be a shock at first. *Gasp!* The Nudity! But with an open mind and a free spirit (a touch of near-sightedness doesn't hurt), being naked in a room full of other naked people can quickly become second nature.

When I arrived in Korea 2+ years ago, for example, I never expected that I would ever be able to utter the following statement with a straight face:

Getting a full-body naked scrub-down from a Korean man in his underwear is pretty damn awesome.

Now it's pretty much one of the first things I say when I meet people.

Recently, while visiting a jjimjilbang with a friend, I shared my vision for a website (in English) that catalogued and ranked all of the jjimjilbangs throughout Korea. It would be a place for foreigners to find new and exciting nudist experiences throughout the country - indoor, outdoor, milk baths, tea baths, salt, sodium bicarbonate, whirlpools, massage baths, ice rooms, hot rooms, steam rooms, and, well, should I go on?

Then - today - I found one.

Jjimjilbang and Saunas in Korea

Tagged by location and descriptors like 'nice view' and 'fitness center', the reviews are pretty easy to search, and include plenty of pictures and access information. So far the scope and number of places reviewed looks pretty limited - 8 in Busan, 6 in Daegu, 6 in Seoul, and a few further afield - but it's a great starting point.

If you'd like to contribute reviews to the site, the author - Sophia - has posted her email on the homepage.

So throw off your inhibition and underwear and head for the door - there's a lot of scrubbing to be done.

Drinking? Hire a Designated Driver!

The drinking culture is alive and, well, drunk in Korea. Couple that with the fact that almost everyone has a car, and you can see where things have the potential to go. So what's a man to do when he wants to go out and get smashed, but doesn't want to leave his car at the bar?

Enter: The Designated Driver for Hire


In many Korean cities and towns there is a service called Daeri Unjeon [대리운전] (lit: "substitute driver"). When you're ready to go home, the substitute driver will show up at your place of drinking and drive you home - in your own car. Someone else will come to pick up the driver later.

The kicker: When I used the  대리운전 for the first time over the weekend, it was the same price as a taxi. Exactly.

Apparently this service is catching on in some US cities as well.

The next time you're at the bar, ask the staff for the number for a substitute driver, and store it in your phone. You never know when you might need it.

Korean Text Message (SMS) Slang

I taught a couple of my students some English SMS (text message) abbreviations the other day - btw, idk, brb, ttyl, etc. - and they in return they taught me a little bit about the art of the Korean text message. Many of these I knew already, but I did pick up a few new tricks.

Some of these are common in spoken language as well, but this is primarily a list of slang expressions used in chat rooms and text messages.

If you know of any more, please add them in the comments!

ㅎㅎ 
ㅋㅋㅋ 
ㅋㄷㅋㄷ 
Laughing

ㄷㄷㄷ  
Trembling from fear, maybe the sound of teeth chattering (deu-deu-deu). [from 덜덜]

ㅂㅂ
Bye-bye.

ㅇㅋ
OK

ㅇㅇ
Yes / I understand / I agree / Shut up  (ng ng)

ㄴㄴ
No no.

ㅎㅇ
Hi. Short for 하이.

ㅗ
This can be used as a middle finger.

ㄱ ㅅ
Thanks (short for 감사합니다).

ㄱㅊ
It's OK (short for 괸찮아).

쩐다
Expression of anger, excitement, happiness, or any intense emotion. Kind of like "damn!", though it's not a bad word.

샘
Teacher (short for 선생님).

Korean Emoticons

(Used often by girls in particular)



^^
Happy face. By far the most common Korean emoticon in existence.

ㅠㅠ or ㅠ.ㅠ
Sad / Crying face. Perhaps a close second to ^^. Korean girls are very dramatic.

OTL
This is an entire crying person, who is so distraught he's on his hands and knees.

ㅡ ㅡ
Angry face.

ㅇㅅㅇ
Cute face.

(ㅡ_ㅡ)Zzzz

Sleeping.

This funny clip from 거침없이 하이킥 (High Kick) explains a few more in detail.

Celebrating the Sunrise

The traditional American celebration of each new year isn't too distant from your average Friday night frat party. People get drunk, dance, and try to find someone to make out with at midnight. Of course, this night tends to find people dressed better, drinking actual champagne instead of High Life (the champagne of beers!), and making haphazard "resolutions" attempting to correct all of the bad decisions that probably led them to the party in the first place. What it all really amounts to is just a more expensive hangover.

Of course, lots of Koreans celebrate in the same way. People in every culture like to find any excuse to get drunk and make out with the company secretary.

Many Koreans, however, like to plan their boozing around the rising of the first sun of the new year, at one of Korea's numerous Sunrise Festivals. These are usually organized in cities near the ocean with a strategic advantage for watching the sunrise. The most popular destinations, not surprisingly, are on the east coast, where they think the sun rises first.

Homigot [호미곶], Pohang

The easternmost point on mainland Korea.

I had thought about making the trek out to the Homigot Sunrise Festival, nearby Pohang, until my co-teacher told me that I would spend 3-4 hours in traffic just getting out there (it's usually a 30 minute drive). In the end, it was a moot point. The Homigot Sunrise Festival for 2010 is CANCELED due to the recent outbreak of foot-and-mouth disease.

The cancelation may actually be a good thing, if you wanted to get a photo of the new year sun rising through the Hand of Harmony. No more crowds.

Seongsan Ilchulbong Sunrise Peak [성산일출봉], Jeju

A UNESCO Heritage Site on "the Hawaii of Korea"

God I love Jeju. I'm always looking for an excuse to go back. But flights are always booked solid months in advance of any sort of Korean holiday. I haven't even checked. Plus I don't like crowds.

Ulleung Island [울릉도]

The ACTUAL easternmost point in the country.

I couldn't find any info about sunrise festivals on this island, because it's tiny and mostly considered only as a stopover point to gaze at Dokdo or eat some squid. But Naesujeon Sunrise Observatory offers spectacular views of, predictably, the sunrise, from a platform high above the surrounding landscape. Even if all 10,000 island residents were there, it would probably still be the least crowded sunrise festival in Korea.

Jirisan National Park [지리산]

The highest point on the mainland.

Height matters, especially when it comes to catching the first rays of sunlight on New Year's Day. At 1,915 meters, Jirisan is actually the first place in South Korea to glimpse our golden ball of heat. Mountaingoers will tackle the trail around 2am to reach the peak for a sunrise champagne/soju toast. 

You'll find me on the trail. 

Happy 2012!

Evil Spirits: They hate red beans

Yesterday, one of my co-teachers moved into a new apartment with her family. Today, following the Korean custom to ward off evil spirits, she made red bean rice cake [시루떡] for everyone.

According to another teacher, this tradition can be traced back to the Silla dynasty, when Seol Chong [설총], son of the famous monk Wonhyo and princess Yoseok, used red beans to eradicate evil spirits (called dokkaebi in Korean) from his house.

Dokkaebi [도깨비] are mischievous mythical creatures said to be the transformed spirit of inanimate objects. They were traditionally depicted with only one leg, probably because of the belief that they were the embodied spirit of useful objects that had been misused or neglected, like a broom.  Nowadays they have two legs - because a one-legged monster isn't really that scary. They love to play pranks and tricks on people, or challenge wayward travelers to wrestling matches. (A one-legged wrestler isn't too believable now, is it?)

Legend has it that Seol Chong once returned from a battle or something to find that an evil spirit had slept with his wife. (Apparently his broom wasn't the only thing that had been feeling neglected lately!) His first reaction, apparently, was to whip up a batch of red bean rice cake, which scared the...ahem!...mischievous spirit away. As he later bragged about this feat to his neighbors, a legend was born (along with, perhaps, an illegitimate child).

And that, folks, is how traditions begin. Kinda like Christmas!

The Most Stressful Day in Korea

My high school is conspicuously absent of a third of its students today. They, along with every other high school senior on the peninsula, spent 10 hours yesterday in the most important round of testing they may ever face in their entire lives: the Korean SAT [수능]. Considering that they haven't taken a day - nay, even a waking hour - off from studying in over a year, I think it's well deserved. Though it is probably not very restful for many. This is, after all, suicide season.

Like most Americans, I grew up being told that I could be anything I want to be. There was constant reinforcement of this message from every media; that if you try hard enough, and are dedicated to your dream, that it is achievable. A closed door can be opened with enough force.

There is no such message in Korea. The door simply disappears. Students who score poorly on the K-SAT have to wait another year, when they are allowed take it for a second and last time. If they don't get a "doctor" score - one high enough to get into medical school - they will never be a doctor in Korea. (Of course, they could always move to that great shining beacon across the Pacific, The Land of Opportunity.)

The outcome of yesterday's exam will determine the possibilities for each student's future. It will light a fire under some dreams, propelling one student to a career as a doctor, just as it consumes the hopes of another as they smolder in the ashes of failure.

Though yesterday was an important day for the seniors, one which will make or break their plans for the future, stress wasn't limited to the students. Education is one of the biggest expenditures for Korean households - life savings are spent, debt racked up - and the hopes and dreams of every student are shared as fervently by parents, siblings, friends and teachers.

My senior year of high school was one of the easiest years of my life. It was full of positive messages pointing to endless opportunities in the future. After I was accepted into college, it became a carefree time of utter irresponsibility. I had no cares or worries of my own, much less of others. My parents didn't care what I chose to do, as long as it made me happy.

In Korea, where the lingering tenets of Confucianism make status and title all-important, one day - one test - will decide what that status and title are. It's no wonder that 48% of Korean students have considered suicide. The hopes and dreams of an entire nation rest heavily, tiredly, on 18 year-old shoulders.

Single-serving drip coffee bags

Though tea may be a more traditional Asian drink, coffee popularity is on the rise in Korea. Single-serving sachets of instant coffee are ubiquitous in teachers' offices and lounges across the country, and many restaurants place instant coffee machines by the door for customers to get their fix on their way out. Coffee shops are becoming BIG business - in my neighborhood alone there are about a dozen.

Single-serving drip coffee bags, produced by the ever-inventive Japanese since the 1990's, are a relatively new product in Korea. They must have received a big marketing boost lately. A couple of months ago they were being offered as gifts with the purchase of bags of coffee. Now they're being sold in packages in Family Mart, empty or in pre-filled with a measured amount of coffee grounds. They're a great option for camping aficionados who don't want to pack a french press or deal with grounds in the bottom of their "cowboy coffee" cup.

Though I'm not a fan of the excessive amount of wasteful packaging that goes into most Korean products, this semi-reusable all-paper filter beats the metallic plastic instant-coffee sachets that they could replace.

A Korean Fortune - Saju [사주]

I am a flower. I have lots of water in me. I should seek fire and trees and mountains. South and East are good directions. 2014 will mark the beginning of a good time for me. I shouldn't have more than two children (though if I want more, adopting is OK). I know this, because my birthday tells me so.

Saju [사주], or "human's life", is an ancient form of Korean fortune-telling which uses your birth date and time to reveal aspects of your personality and character, including predilections, positive attributes and talents, and needs. It is based on five elements that are said to make up all things:

• water
• fire
• earth
• trees
• metal

The Chinese characters that represent these elements also have corollary meanings, like animals, directions, and family members, so the reader can glean answers to many of the client's questions from the eight original characters formed by their birth date.

Many Koreans believe strongly in the power of the saju, and consult theirs regularly in times of change, particularly before a big move, job change, or prior to a wedding, to see if they or their children are compatible with the spouse-to-be. The fortune teller, or reader, will often become a sort of counselor to her clients, advising them on a particular action based on the revelations in their saju.





On the 6th floor of Home Plus (CGV) next to the shiwae bus terminal in Pohang, two fortune tellers spend their evenings behind lace curtains in cozy plywood huts, reading birth dates and tarot cards for a steady stream of customers of every age.

Saju consultation: 9,000 won.
Tarot reading: 4,000 won.

I went to visit Min Jung, my friend Tony's girlfriend, who has been studying saju for four years under the tutelage of a 75 year-old buddhist monk living in the mountains around Gyeongju. Min Jung is an incredibly peaceful, yet warm person who I immediately felt comfortable around. We had been rock climbing together on a couple of occasions before, so I already knew her from those outings as well.

She invited me into her small "office" and pulled two giant tomes off of the small bookshelf beside her chair. She asked my birthdate and time, spent a few minutes consulting the books, then drew two rows of four Chinese characters on a blank sheet of paper with a calligraphy brush. She spent another few minutes whispering to herself while she circled characters and drew lines between them, writing other characters beneath them with numbers and dates.

When Min Jung had finished, she began to describe my "human's life". Saju is not "fortune-telling" in the sense that it reveals your future (although Min Jung did tell me that from 2014 would be a good time for me, and that I would be healthy into old age), but rather a picture of your character and how you relate to the world around you. Your character affects your future, though, and your saju can tell you what factors to consider when it comes time for a decision - where you should go, what kind of job you should hold, or what kind of person would be good for you to marry. I asked her questions about food I should eat (stay away from pork, eat lots of leafy greens), sports I should play (be careful with water sports), people I should befriend (look for fire, trees, mountains in others), colors that are bad for me (black and white).

I left feeling quite good, but unsure how I felt about saju and Korean fortune telling. Most of what Min Jung told me about myself I believe, but not because my saju told me I am that way. I believe it because I have already witnessed it in my own life - it confirmed much of what I already knew about myself, or what I felt but had never put words to before. I don't consider myself a very superstitious person, and I definitely don't believe in fate. But I was surprised at the accuracy of my saju, and everyone I know who has heard theirs has felt the same way. For now, I guess my jury's out - not that it matters, in the end. Beliefs are only shadows, after all, of what really is.

Testicle Friends

When I was a kid, I attended a small private Christian school. (Maybe that's not the best sentence to open with considering this post's title, but hey....) It was so small that, in my first grade class of 9 students, there were no girls.

We were all very close at the time. Sure, there were a few dorks (Peter, Evan) in the group that we all picked on. And a couple of us (Danny, Joseph, me) mighta sorta been bullies and I might have once - maybe - hit a kid in the face with a flat dodgeball and made him cry. But we were always invited to each other's birthday parties, we had a clubhouse in Joseph's parents' toolshed, and we would slink around at church potlucks like a gang of little James Deans, dressed in our Sunday best. We were inseparable, but let's be honest - mostly it was because we didn't have a choice.

In 6th grade I moved to public middle school. Some of the kids moved to different states. We were pen-pals until the weather got warm or until we forgot to write anymore. We lost touch. I don't even know how I would search for their contact information anymore.

If I had grown up in Korea, this band of 9 little Christian brothers would be my "불알친구". That means, quite literally, "testicle friends".

These boys would be testicle friends in Korea

Testicle friends are Korean men who grew up in the same town, went to elementary or middle school together, and perhaps stripped naked at night to go skinny dipping in the river that ran through their village. They might just have a baby picture together in which their ball sacks are visible. Whatever the case, they were close enough friends that they, at one point or another, saw/touched/smelled/witnessed each other's male organs. And after such an event, I suppose, there's no turning your back...err...the back of your scrotum on 'em.

Today Mr. Shin, one of my co-teachers, told me quite matter-of-factly that his group of testicle friends still meets twice a year, in or near their hometown. He described the group as one based on the purity of childhood innocence, when there are no preconditions or ulterior motives for friendship. "It's a carefree environment," he told me. "Some of my friends are very rich, powerful people now. But I don't care about that." Well, since everyone has a different job now, what do you talk about? I asked him. "We just drink," he said. "A lot."

Hopefully testicle friends make your wife this happy.

Obviously, as the term so eloquently suggests, testicle friends are men.  So, you may eagerly interject, enough about all this ball talk. Tell us about the lovely Korean ladies and their league of labia friends! 

Unfortunately, even in this age of gender parity and sexual equality, Korean women (generally) do not share in this tradition. Women have too many responsibilities to have lives of their own. As Mr. Shin conscientiously put it, "Women should follow their husbands."

They are free to join their men in the reunion and become best friends with the other women who also happened to marry into her husband's group of gonads.

108 Bows (108 배) : Korean Buddhism

Korean Buddhists bow a lot.

It's a meditative practice that encourages reflection and concentration. Though three bows is common, the more dedicated followers often practice 108 bows [백팔배], a long tradition whose number is particularly significant for the following:

There are 6 bodily pathways that lead to suffering: eyes, ears, skin, nose, tongue, mind.

There are 6 objects that lead to suffering: something you see, hear, feel, smell, taste, think about.

There are 3 time periods in which you suffer: the past, the present, and the future.

[6x6x3 = 108]

(the interpretation may depend on the temple you visit, though, and other explanations may differ slightly.)

108 sounds like a heck of a lot, I know. It is. And though it feels a little awkward at first, you get into a rhythm pretty quickly. The whole thing takes about 20 minutes.

I've done 108 bows several times in templestays or at a meeting for Buddhist teachers that I was invited to. Every time, though, they put on a recording of a deep-throated man lyrically chanting 108 prayers in Korean over a meditative soundtrack made up of a flute and bird noises.

Though I was told just to "focus on things you want to change in yourself", I always kind of wanted to know what the guy was saying. I didn't want to think I was bowing all along to commit my soul to Kim Yun-A or something (though I would. Oh GOD would I).

Over the weekend I did another templestay at Golgulsa, and finally got an English copy of what (I think) the Korean man with the nice voice is actually saying. Some are more abstract than I would prefer (hard to focus on), and many are just not practical, but I imagine it still affects your mindset positively, much like visualization or repetition.

If you have knees, I highly suggest you try it. I can even send you an mp3 file of myself reading the list if you need motivation. (Visit this page for a video instruction on bowing.)

My personal favorites are #8, 25, 31, 34, 50 and 104. I bow, uh, extra hard when those come up. I think it goes without saying that I love #11, too, because - let's be honest (Buddha wants me to be HONEST, right??) - I really, really love myself.

Leave me a comment to tell me your favorites, or which prayers you wish Buddha had put on the "bow list".

108 Bows

Before bowing, I prepare the proper mindset:

- Bowing is one way to purify myself.

- Through bowing, I learn how to humble myself and how to have a healthy body and mind.

- I bow to realize that others' lives are just as valuable as mine.

- I bow to get rid of my selfishness.

- I bow because it is the desire of my true self.

- I bow for all living things, and for peace in the universe.

1. I bow to wonder where I came from and where I am and where I am going.

2. I bow to appreciate my parents for giving birth to me.

3. I bow to think about who I am.

4. I bow to find my true self.

5. I bow to always appreciate my body and spirit.

6. I bow for the well-being of my body and spirit.

7. I bow to think about my true desires.

8. I bow to find myself and to learn how to control myself.

9. I bow to appreciate the life I live today.

10. I bow to give thanks for being alive.

11. I bow to think about how much I love myself.

12. I bow to be able to always love my family.

13. I bow to feel happiness and peace of mind through love.

14. I bow to look for happiness only through love.

15. I bow to know that unchangeable love is flowing through the universe.

16. I bow to the teacher who has shown me the right way.

17. I bow to feel that love originates inside me.

18. I bow to reflect that my teacher's lessons are inside me.

19. I bow to feel that all living things, and the universe, are inside me.

20. I bow to remember that my ancestors and gods are inside me.

21. I bow to ask for forgiveness from the people I have hurt, because it hurts the whole universe.

22. I bow to take care of myself and not to do bad things.

23. I bow to rid myself of arrogance.

24. I bow to rid myself of false humility, even if I am in bad circumstances.

25. I bow to call attention to the good in others, but not the bad.

26. I bow to keep others' secrets.

27. I bow to rid myself of hatred of others.

28. I bow to rid myself of anger against others.

29. I bow to not repeat anything I have not heard.

30. I bow to not repeat anything I have not seen.

31. I bow to always be ready, but not to expect things to be easy.

32. I bow to avoid expecting obedience from others.

33. I bow to avoid expecting difficulty in my life.

34. I bow to make the best of each moment in my life.

35. I bow to live a righteous life.

36. I bow to repay even the smallest debt of gratitude.

37. I bow to not put my own needs over the needs of others.

38. I bow to not be stingy to others.

39. I bow to not harm others in order to get ahead.

40. I bow to try not to obtain valuable things with little effort.

41. I bow to have the power to control my desires.

42. I bow to reflect that life is more valuable than anything else.

43. I bow to know that suffering comes from an attached mind.

44. I bow to avoid making foolish mistakes out of ignorance.

45. I bow to try to attain deep wisdom.

46. I bow to learn to be nice to people, even if I have negative feelings toward them.

47. I bow to avoid clinging to the strong in order to hurt those who are weaker than me.

48. I bow to be honest with myself, and also to avoid flattering others.

49. I bow to be true and honest with myself above all others.

50. I bow to know that happiness, unhappiness, and desire are all within my mind.

51.  I bow to know that happiness does not come from others, it comes from me.

52. I bow to realize the value of living a smooth, peaceful life.

53. I bow to avoid looking back at the past, and to not worry about the future.

54. I bow to own possessions, but not to be controlled by them.

55. I bow to know that I can find peace by being patient.

56. I bow to know that having a repentant mind is the best mind.

57. I bow to find freedom through wisdom.

58. I bow to control my mind, not to be controlled by it.

59. I bow to be diligent in my efforts to improve myself.

60. I bow to be thankful for the hard times I have had, because they have made me strong.

61. I bow to keep my original pure mind, even when time passes.

62. I bow to pray with a thankful mind for everything.

63. I bow to be thankful that I can find myself in silence.

64. I bow to reflect on the value of living a pure, honest life.

65. I bow for the people who are working in bad conditions.

66. I bow for the people who are starving, poor, and living hard lives.

67. I bow for the people who work to provide me with healthy food.

68. I bow to have a generous mind, even if I don't have enough for myself.

69. I bow for the precious lives of my children, who I have brought into the world.

70. I bow for my partner, who became one with me through love.

71. I bow for all disabled people.

72. I bow for friends who have been beside me, sharing my laughter and tears.

73. I bow for moderation, even when I have enough to waste.

74. I bow for a humble mind.

75. I bow for humility, so that I can always put others first.

76. I bow to realize that nature is being destroyed.

77. I bow to realize that all lives are interconnected.

78. I bow for all the lives destroyed by the greed of humanity.

79. I bow for all the ecosystems that are recovering after being hurt by humanity.

80. I bow to listen to the sounds of life that are all around me.

81. I bow to realize that my life is the movement of my soul.

82. I bow to realize that the object of love and longing is life.

83. I bow to feel my soul being purified when I hear the sound of a clean, clear stream.

84. I bow to give thanks for being able to hear and enjoy the beautiful songs of birds.

85. I bow to be refreshed by the feeling of a cool breeze.

86. I bow to be thankful as I breathe in fresh air.

87. I bow to be thankful for the sight of beautiful wildflowers that are always present.

88. I bow to give thanks for the mountains and landscapes that speak to me through wind and snow.

89. I bow to the Earth, which feeds all living things.

90. I bow to the sky, which gives life to all living things.

91. I bow for my own peace.

92. I bow to hope for peace in everything around me.

93. I bow for the peace of my neighbor.

94. I bow for peace within countries that have been separated for no reason.

95. I bow for peace between countries arguing for political reasons.

96. I bow for peace and harmony among all religions.

97. I bow to hope for peace in all dead and living things.

98. I bow to hope for peace between human beings and nature.

99. I bow for a mind that is enlightened and peaceful

100. I bow for harmony between the poor and the rich.

101. I bow for harmony between the sick and the healthy.

102. I bow for harmony between those who have learned and those who have not.

103. I bow for those who have fallen into darkness.

104. I bow to accept all of the things I have done.

105. I bow to be thankful for all of the people who love me and take care of me.

106. I bow to be thankful for all of the good and beautiful things in my life.

107. I bow to be thankful for my life and to reflect on the lives that are yet to be.

108. I bow for myself, realizing that my own precious life is like the universe.

and if you're still here, I'm thankful for you!

What's up with the bowing? Visiting a Korean temple

If you've ever visited a Korean temple for more than just the 산채 비빔밥 (mountain vegetable bibimbap), you've witnessed a procession of Buddhist followers removing their shoes, entering the temple doors, bowing three times (or more) in front of a giant Golden statue of Buddha, and leaving. If you ever dismissed this behavior as nothing more than simple idol worship  - lord knows I always did! - you missed the point. Big time.

Although there does happen to be a giant golden statue of a buddha in the temple, and the practitioners do bow in front of it, they are not actually bowing to the statue, or even to Gautama, the one they call the Buddha. (Ok, maybe one or two of them are. But think of them as the crazy lady teetering in front of the train station who blows her nose on her dress.) When you bow in a Buddhist temple, you are bowing to a more tangible buddha - the one inside of you. 

Korean Buddhists bow in two ways:

1. A half bow: Enacted by bending at the waist, palms pressed together in front of chest. Performed at the beginning and end of a full bow sequence, whenever they see a monk (to recognize the buddha inside of them), and pretty much whenever they enter or exit a building on the temple grounds.

2. A full bow: Usually with a thick cushion in front, bowers will press their palms together in prayer position, kneel on the pillow, and lay their forearms and forehead on the ground in front of them. With the forehead still on the ground, they will turn their palms face-up and raise them above their ears. Then back down again, a return to kneeling position, and a roll-back onto the toes and they're up and voila! that's one.

When Korean Buddhists enter a temple (shoes off and through the SIDE door, please - the main door is for monks only!), they find an open spot on the floor, and perform a sequence of three bows (or three half-bows, if they are lazy, handicapped, or tired): one half bow followed by three full bows followed by one half bow. 

Significance: 

For the Buddha (whichever buddha you want, I suppose)

For the Dhamma (Buddha's teachings)

For the Sangha (the community of practitioners)

More dedicated (or bored) followers will tackle a full 108 bows (or more): one half bow followed by 108 full bows followed by one half bow.

South Korea: it's a 125cc, baby!

Though it may be on its way to 50cc status...

Asian countries have been lauded in recent decades for their steadily rapid economic growth. For their prowess they earned the moniker "economic tigers," particularly the four economic powerhouses of Hong Kong, Singapore, South Korea, and Taiwan, with other southeast Asian countries recently dubbed "tiger cub economies". But tigers in Asia are severely endangered, with worldwide population estimates hovering around 3,500. Three of the nine original tiger subspecies have already become extinct.

Perhaps we should choose a better mascot for these still-thriving economies than an animal which, like it or not, is on a seemingly irreversible decline.

Perhaps we should consider an image still vibrant and visible throughout the continent, a representative of the asian worker's struggle, his pride in his work, her defiance of larger, looming economies that threatened to drive her off the road.

Perhaps it's time we thought outside the box.

I humbly propose: The Economic Scooter.

Any pedestrian traveler attempting to navigate an Asian city for the first time is quickly frustrated and annoyed by the seemingly endless throng of motorbikes and scooters that clog motorways across the continent. Southeast Asia, where the motorbike doubles as a minivan for the entire family, is particularly notorious.

Even in the developed Asian countries - the supposed "tigers" - the scooter hasn't lost its edge. Though consumers are buying cars in record numbers, the scooter market is still thriving. Businessman or delivery boy, no one is above a little scooter ride.

As the sort-of-proud owner of a scooter myself, I can attest to the following facts about scooters:

1. They are cheap. You can buy a brand-new scooter in Korea for 1,000 USD. I fill my gas tank once a week for 5 USD.

2. They are faster than cars.* Since scooters are often held to few, if any, traffic laws, they can go wherever, whenever they please. Go the wrong way down a one-way street? Cars will pull over. Run a red light? The cops will wave you past. Drive full-speed along a crowded sidewalk during market day? Pedestrians will move to the street.
*Within city limits.
3. They look more dangerous than they really are. I know how #2 sounds, but don't worry Mom! There's order amidst the chaos. After about a week of riding in traffic, you reach a moment of scooter zen, and your role becomes clear like water pouring into a stone-filled glass.

As a resident in and frequent traveler of Asia, I can also attest to the following facts about asian economies:

1. They are cheap. And by "they are" I mean "labor is."

2. They are faster than cars. Ok, that one doesn't make much sense.

3. In spite of - or because of - the frantic, heart-burning pace of the Asian Scooter economies, Asians are careful. They don't spend money just because they have a shiny plastic card that says they can - though they understand the danger (which is why, I suspect, it is illegal for Koreans to gamble in Korea). The memory of poverty is still fresh in their minds. I don't think most Asians want to belly up to an all-you-can-eat buffet with their American counterparts. They're generally happy with their bowl of rice and small helping of side dishes.

4. They are built on a foundation of collective values. You may discount this one as irrelevant, namby-pamby, or idealistic, but let me give you some advice: don't. The Korean word "jeong" [정] - variations of which exist in China and Japan - is difficult to translate, but loosely means "togetherness, love, sympathy, feeling," and just about any other feel-good word that makes you want to give someone a hug. Though much of Koreans' behavior and interaction is dictated by a seemingly draconian Confucian culture, Koreans also feel bound to each other through jeong - not as a burden, but as a blessing. This influences all manner of conduct, including business transactions, conversations, and how to behave in traffic. In my experience, road rage is a rarity throughout Asia. When I zip past a Korean sitting still at a red light, it seems - though I can't be sure - the driver simply thinks "he must have somewhere very important to be."

Acupuncture in Korea

I hurt my neck the other day doing yoga when I fell over during a headstand. Coincidentally, I had been looking for an excuse to visit the acupuncturist, and here Fate was kind enough to present me with one.

Some of my friends have had acupuncture done before, so I knew basically what to expect; I just wanted to know if it really worked, and how it felt. I also love Dr. Kim, the traditional Korean doctor down the street from my house. Lisa and I went to dinner with him and his wife earlier this week. They are extremely generous, loving people - their family spent four years in Uzbekistan while Dr. Kim gave free treatment to local villagers, and he has also spent time in Sri Lanka doing the same. He has a very calming demeanor, and I can't help but smile when I'm around him. He speaks English rather well, but he speaks it in such a way that he seems to be mulling over each individual word for maximum meaning and impact before speaking it, so he has a very slow, melodic manner of communicating that is entrancing and endearing.

Anyway, I visited his office at 9am Friday before school. My neck had been killing me all through the night; I slept terribly, and could barely lift my head from the pillow in the morning. I wasn't sure I'd be able to go to school that day. I only had two classes scheduled, so I wouldn't have felt terrible about it, but I wanted to see how I felt after Dr. Kim's treatment.

His office is very pleasant, with lots of natural light and a heavy (but not overpowering) smell of herbs. I waited for about 5 minutes and was called back to see him. I told him my story and that my neck was extremely sore. He held my wrist and felt my pulse for about a minute (though he didn't time it), after which he declared that my condition wasn't serious. He recommended that I do several acupuncture sessions, which I agreed to.

His desk is within the same room as the patients' quarters; small, well-apportioned cubicles with modest beds and a heat lamp. I took off my shirt and socks as instructed, and sat in a legless chair on the bed with my knees propped up over a pillow. He came in and, using a small metal tube that seemed to work much like a ball-point pen, inserted several small metal needles in my skin - three near my shoulder blades, one in the outside of my left food, and one in the outer flesh of my left hand, which I had balled into a fist. He left me in that position for about ten minutes, with a heat lamp directed toward my back.

After he removed the needles, I lay down on my stomach and he placed two large heating pads over my shoulders and neck, for another ten minutes.

The third treatment was fire cupping, in which Dr. Kim sprayed alcohol into four clay cups, lit them on fire, and placed them down onto my back. The fire went out immediately and created a suction effect, drawing skin into the cup and blood into the skin. Again he directed the heat lamp to my back and I lay there for another ten minutes. He applied a large herb patch over one of the cup marks, and gave me some herbal medicines to take three times a day. The cost? 6,400 won (6 USD). I made an appointment to come back and see him the following day.

bruise marks from cupping

Although my neck didn't feel 100% better, the pain had decreased significantly. Where before my neck was suffering from sharp, shooting pains whenever I moved my head, now the pain had dulled substantially and I had regained some of the range of motion in my neck. I felt elated, as if I had been dosed with anti-anxiety medication, and practically skipped my way to work.

Throughout the entire day, including the night, the pain in my neck never increased. I had expected the effects of the treatment to wear off, particularly overnight. But I slept soundly and when I woke up this morning for my second treatment, my neck felt quite spry.

I think I may have to start listing Dr. Kim as my "family doctor" from now on.

Acupuncture is extremely common in Korea - most of my co-teachers regularly visit their local traditional Korean doctor when they have aches, pains, or illness. It's almost always their first line of treatment.

For more on health care in Korea, see below:

Five Minutes in a Korean Hospital

A Penny for your...Eye Infection?