The Pretzel Drop

I'm thinking that Koreans must have a skewed sense of what being a foreigner is like. Namely that we all know each other. And, honestly, they aren't that far off, at least in a town as small as Suji. I am extraordinarily anti-social at times and still I know about every other foreigner I see.

We have already discussed the Secret Suji Foreigner Smile that is exchanged when two Sujians passing on the street, so that just reinforces the notion to all viewers.

The other day an ajashi (old man) stopped me on the street and asked me if I knew his English teacher, Ivan. I didn't really but I had met a guy around my neighborhood that kind of fit the description and there really isn't that many foreigners so I told the ajashi I probably had met him. He then proceeded to try and set us up on a date because we were both foreigners and obviously it was meant to be.

But yesterday, the Secret Suji Foriegner Smile went to a whole new level when I was walking back home from buying k-pop socks. I saw my friend, Jeremy, on the other side of the crosswalk as we were both waiting for the light to turn. He had a lot of things in his hands so he couldn't wave back to me. But when we met in the middle of the street and I saw that he was in fact carrying three large bags of pretzels, the likes of which I haven't seen since leaving America, I had to wonder what he was up to.

All he said was 'Do you want some pretzels?" and when I nodded he handed me the bag and he went on his way being Foreigner Santa and I went on my way with my k-pop socks and lifetime supply of pretzels. I can't imagine what the Koreans watching must have thought. It must have looked like a pre-arranged meeting that we cooked up on our Super Seceret Foreigner Phones.

Of All the Gin Joints In All the World...

Leslie and I went out tonight, as is our usual on Friday, to eat at a restaurant and decompress from the week. We found an amazing resturaunt that served the best food I've had in a while. The place was so small that you could probably walk from one end of the kitchen and out the door in ten steps. The kitchen looked like someone's kitchen in their house and you could watch them prepare your food from your seat.

After the meal, which was ridiculously cheap ($6, no tip - in Korea its considered rude) we went for a stroll where we met up with three other people (Roza, Mia, and Jeremy) we knew from various places. It got me thinking about how small the world is in general, not just Korea or the ex-pat world. Its as if, if you are a world traveler, you meet the same people over and over again. And I am not refering to some personality type that you meet often in different people, I'm talking about literally the same people.

For instance, Roza is an Azerbaijani who moved to America in her teens and spent the rest of her student years there. She, some crazy how, knows this girl - Fidan - I went to high school with. The only justification I can wring out of Roza as to how they know each other, is a non-committal shrug and "She's Azeri". Which I suppose is enough explanation for her - she tried to explain how small the country is - but to me, it is not in the least bit enlightening. I mean, she can't know everyone in the country - no country is that small.

Further proof that the world really has less than six degrees of separation is the fact that Stephanie and I learned to ski at the same resort in Garmisch-Partenkirchen; and that my first and second grade Music teacher (from Kenya) goes to Leslie's church. Here in Suji. Dare is say it? It's a small world after all.

We ended the night looking into a Kpop dance class for Roza. Roza loves Kpop even more than Leslie does - and Leslie will sometimes stop a conversation mid sentence to listen to a song on a loud speaker. And even though Leslie and Roza have discovered in each other their long-lost Kpop soul mates (Seoul mates?), Leslie doesn't have the energy for Kpop dance class on top of her ridiculous work schedule. She did, however, know of a class that was nearby so we decided to check it out.

What followed was a tri-lingual conversation between the dance instructor, Roza and Roza's friend Mia who is Russian-Korean (born to Korean parents in Uzbekistan when it was still part of the Soviet Union). The Instructor would attempt to start a sentence in English, end up in Korean, at which point Mia would translate it into Russian, and Roza would respond again in English or broken Korean. Leslie and I watched the exchange feeling very monolingual. Wait, scratch that, Leslie speaks Hawai'ian. So, really, I was the only mono-linguist in the conversation. Bleh, I need to get on that.

Weekend Adventures

A lot happened last weekend and I actually have not had time to write about it.

After my last class on Friday in which Older Paul picketed against me grading their tests ("Teacher, I'm a protester!"). We went out because one of my co-workers, Jonathan, had his contract end and we wanted to give him a good send off. We started out at a 'Western Bar' nearby called 'Odyssey' with a giant historically inaccurate spartan warrior in the front. We all got there before Jonathan because he had to clean out his desk. After eating about three plates of food, it was starting to feel like a good riddance party instead of a goodbye party.

Talking with my Korean co-workers is always so interesting. Susan, I just found out, traveled all over the world for her husband's job - first in Hong Kong and then in Kazakhstan. She told us this story about having to send her son - one of my students - to the hospital on horseback because the snow was so deep there was no other way to travel. Where this had sent her into a homicidal frenzy when her husband got home, my reaction was more along the lines of: 'awesome'.

This conversation sparked another about accents and my Korean co-teachers proceeded to imitate various accents in Korean which was hilarious because I couldn't tell the difference and they couldn't stop laughing. Like I know how Korean accents are supposed to sound. The Chinese one was the only one I could spot because of the sing-song quality of the speech.

We traded slang and expressions. For instance, I taught them the phrase 'under your breath'and in, 'she said something under her breath behind the boss' back'. They taught me a gesture that means 'psycho' - a backwards peace sign, with each finger touching your eyes so your nose pokes out. This is because 'psy' (pronounced 'sigh') means 'between' and 'co' means nose. So, your nose is between your fingers. Thus, Psycho. We also discussed the nuanced meanings of words like 'slimy', 'skeezy', and 'vicious'.

It wasn't a really late night, I had to show Jonathan where the bus was to get to the airport and he had to pack still. Apparently, he left a lot of stuff, despite the good two hours of packing time he left himself.

Saturday, I went downtown to meet up with some friends and we did all manner of things, though we never did find that taco cart. Don't worry, there are plans to hijack it and drive it back to Suji where we can use it for our own sinister taco purposes. Stephanie wanted to show me this Irish pub she found in Itaewon that had hard cider on tap. And who should we see the first second we walk in, but the only Irish guy we know. That's right, Martin, of the rafting trip back in May, was sitting square in front of the door even though he lives across town. It was one of those moments where you realize that, although Seoul is big, the ex-pat community just isn't.