The Difference Between Running and Hiding

I focused attentively on the lyrics to "Ghost in the Machine" and I really like them. It is certainly a feeling that everyone can relate to. While the theory originally described Descartes' idea that the spirit and body are separate -- and generally incompatible -- I think the tone of the song implies a message to society. I've always felt a connection to Huxley's idea "We live together, we act on, and react to, one another; but always and in all circumstances we are by ourselves. The martyrs go hand in hand into the arena; they are crucified alone. Embraced, the lovers desperately try to fuse their insulated ecstasies into a single self-transcendence; in vain. By its very nature every embodied spirit is doomed to suffer and enjoy in solitude. Sensations, feelings, insights, fancies—all these are private and, except through symbols and at second hand, incommunicable. We can pool information about experiences, but never the experiences themselves. From family to nation, every human group is a society of island universes." (The Doors of Perception)

In this song, Bobby Ray is expressing frustration with others' inability to see through his eyes. He ascribes his evanescence to an inability in others to see more than "the shadow on the wall of the cave" (Plato's The Republic). There is an incommunicable nature to every feeling we have as humans, and Bobby Ray is forward about casting culpability.

What really arouses reflection in this song, though, is the verse. It posits a question of how people avoid dealing with problems. No, I agree, we can and should deal with most problems in life, but what's the point when you feel like a Ghost in the Machine? A ghost cannot pull levers or break circuits; it cannot fight the physical force of metals movings rapidly. A single spirit cannot turn the gears in reverse, or even convince them to slow. Hiding allows one to seek refuge and contemplate the machine from afar. In my experience, this only leads to greater contempt for the machine, and inevitably leads to the humiliation either of being found or of reluctantly rejoining that which drove one into obscurity. The sensation of running is cathartic. In contrast to hiding, one might actually feel as if she is escaping. The process itself isn't necessarily prolific, but the feeling is. In running, you know relatively where you are... because you know where you were. You see further and are given more to interpret, which keeps your mind from festering. It also allows you to see what you are running from.

At one point in the song, Bobby Ray mentions feeling terrified, "like I've seen a UFO," which an incredible metaphor because it is not an experience most have had, and the more you attempt to empathize, the more the metaphor blossoms.

Tastes of Korea

Ask a Korean what their favorite food is and you will always be disappointed. Rice and Kimchi! However, Korea offers some of the best meals I have ever eaten. Much like meals ought to be, most Korean meals are episodic. Patrons dine on the floor at a low table, where your entrée is cooked over coals from a wood fire. Plates and bowls are brought to your table in rapid succession and the servers seldom leave room for even one more plate. There exists, in contrast, quite a delicious bit of take out food. Seeing as my roommate and coworker is a quintessential American, I was introduced to the latter first.

Snacks and Takeout

On one of my first days, we had coffee for a noontime breakfast. I had a cafe mocha (카페 모카, which transliterates to ka-pe mo-ka). A few hours later we went out to get chamchi (참치; tuna) jumokbap (주먹밥) -- a ball of rice filled with tuna and either coated in a seaweed "dust" or wrapped in seaweed. The word jumokbap literally translates to "fist of rice" and it is a Korean adoption of the Japanese Onigiri, except never with raw meat. Koreans cook their food. We went back later to the same place for chamchi gimbap (참치김밥) and lamien (라면).

Gimbap looks a bit like a sushi roll. However, it is filled with crab, eggs, cucumber, carrots, spinach, and pickled radish. If you've been paying attention you would know chamchi gimbap contains tuna, but it also contains sesame leaves and you will sometimes see American cheese or mayonnaise in specialty gimbap (gross). Lamien is simply Ramen noodles. R and L are the same letter in Hangul (Korean writing), the difference in pronunciation comes from location. First and

last places make the sound L. Dakbogi (떡볶이) is a very popular snack. Consisting of slices of thick rice noodles in a spicy red chili sauce with strips of fish paste, the noodles are a bit chewy. It is difficult to describe the consistency without referring to rubber. The fish paste -- which is basically waste parts of a fish -- is perhaps the only redeeming taste. The few vegetables are easily overpowered by the chili sauce and the noodles are far too thick to absorb enough flavor. Another snack, mandu (만두), looks remarkably like a potsticker, but mandu is delicious. Mandu is also the only Korean food I know how to cook: remove from freezer bag and fry.

Meals

As for formal dining, for a few thousand Won one can get a series of dishes and food cooked right in front of you. For your main dish, you typically get a choice of the following: (1) Bulgogi (불고기; literally "fire meat") - beef strips. (2) Galbi (갈비; often called Korean BBQ) - Korean short ribs -- usually pork -- that are sometimes marinated in soy-sauce. This is absolutely the best tasting meal I have ever had. (3) Samgyeopsal (삼겹살; literally "three layered flesh") - very similar to uncured bacon and extremely fatty.

After ordering, the barrage of side dishes begins. You will almost certainly be brought kimchi (김치), which is fermented cabbage. I know what you are thinking. Fermented cabbage, yum!

Can't go wrong! However, red kimchi is extremely flavorful and varies in its spiciness. Some kimchi will knock your socks off. If you don't like one recipe of kimchi, you may like the next. A large degree of variability exists for both crunchiness and spiciness. The spiciness very successfully masks the brine flavor. With practice one becomes better at determining their favorite kimchi ingredients -- whether red chili, ginger, garlic, cucumber, or fish sauce, all are quite nuanced. Easily the best kimchi I have ever had, geotjeori (겉절이) is fermented ever so slightly on the way from the kitchen to the table. Alternatively -- or additionally -- you may be brought white kimchi, which is fermented cabbage in brine... and not much else. It is utterly bland. You will also be brought some sort of pickled radish, which is certainly an acquired taste. Unquestionably, you will be brought an endless supply of onion salad (파무침), as well as garlic, gochujang (고추장) -- an absolutely delicious red chili paste -- and a plate of leaves (perhaps with some mild chilies). On this leaf plate, the red leaf lettuce is called sangchu (상추) and the spade-shaped leaves are kaenip (깻잎), which incorrectly translates to sesame. The kaenip leaf tastes bitter and is not very good by itself; however, in the melody of flavors kaenip may be your percussive guide. It isn't uncommon to get squid salads, succulent crab, potato salads, or yogurt salads with you meal. These flavors compliment all of the spice on the flavor and all tend to bear a richer flavor. Rice typically must be requested.

Before you can finish dabbling in the half a dozen side dishes, or banchan (반찬), your meat has probably cooked to perfection. So shake the excess water from a leaf of sangchu and place a leaf of kaenip on top of it. Line the center with whatever meat you have chosen, a few slices of garlic, and a dollop or two of gochujang. Fold and enjoy! :)

Yeah but, What If?

On my way to school yesterday, I heard a few machine gun rounds being fired up north. I heard it again when I stepped out to get a "rice fist." It really got me thinking "Yeah but, what if?" I was outside with Michael, so I turned and asked him what he would do if North Korea attacked. The first thing he said was, "I would stay." He reminded me that he was in the Marines, but told me that he was a combat correspondent. Asking if I had ever seen Full Metal Jacket, he described his job as Joker's job. It sounded very romantic -- to be so deeply involved in a war and not have a gun or an enemy -- but I was certainly jealous. He explained how he would go down to the base in Seoul and sign up.

"How long would it take to walk to Seoul," I asked, presuming that would be the only way to get there.

"I'd take the bus."

"Wouldn't it be full."

"No. The Koreans would all be at home, crouched in the basement."

Then I began to think. Truly, there can only be two options. Either the bus is packed with people hanging out of the windows or it isn't running because the driver is with his family and no one is working. Ever since arriving, I have often found myself staring at concrete walls and outcrops, imagining myself crouched there, hopelessly trying to avoid radiation. Sometimes, It is like an out of body experience -- seeing myself diving behind a concrete wall and watching my flesh melt away from my body. But really, if North Korea launched a nuclear missile that would be all that I could do.

This morning I woke to the cacophonous sound of a helicopter. It sounded like it was landing on my head. I ran to the window to see. It was a double whirlie -- like the name of our library, I think. I went back to my room, no way North Korea has one of those. It got me thinking about the possibility of an airstrike. It wouldn't happen to me here in Majeon. There are better places to target. Questions just kept filling my head. What if they marched into Majeon? How long would their food rations last? Would a Korean soldier see me as a valuable asset? Dead or alive? I think if I heard firefight in the distance, I would go to the roof and see what I could see. Then I would check my email, pack a bag of some stuff that might keep me alive, and run for the trees. I figure an army won't spend a long time in Majeon before moving on, and certainly won't have time to clear the woods.

Still, the children are outside playing and screaming every day. Each day is no different than before. The machine guns somberly brought me my wits, but the children laugh and play like it is any other day. It is as if they don't even hear a machine gun, or perhaps they don't know what it is. I've only spoken to a few people who have fought in the Korean War (one of them worked at Walmart), but they are old, old, old. The voices of that time will soon be gone and all that will remain is a misunderstood division.

(Temperatures are in Celsius)

Today I visited the jjimjilbang (찜질방 for those of you who read Hangul). The jjimjilbang is the public bathhouse central to Korean culture. After paying and being given my "prison clothes" as my coworker, Mike, called them, I walked onto the shoe platform and took off my shoes. I continued to the locker room and stripped down. I then walked into the main men's room and plopped into the 56 degree bath (to get Fahrenheit, multiply by 2, subtract 10%, and add 32). It clearly was nowhere near that temperature. It wasn't even bathwater temperature, so we moved to the 43 pool. That was quite nice, but a bit much so we relocated again to 39. A perfect temperature. I was finally comfortable enough to have a look around. At the back of the room, the children were playing in the cold pool (which I would estimate was about 17 degrees). There was a dry, Swedish-style sauna and a steam room, which was quite unbearable. The Korean men were almost entirely void of hair, which made me glad not to look like Tony or Stew (gorilla men). The sauna was at 102 degrees and the steam room was at 65. I could only stand the sauna for about 10 minutes, but it was the first time being in a sauna since Sweden, and I truly enjoyed it. I stepped out to enjoy the high-pressure jets in the cold pool. Then I tried the steam room, which rendered me dizzy in a matter of seconds. After a good soak in all of the tubs and rooms, we put on our prison clothes -- which were quite comfortable -- and went into the communal area. The communal area was fairly nice. People were getting full body massages in one corner (not as full bodied as other spots around Incheon). In another corner, people were lying on the heated floors talking and watching the tube. Gazebos dotted the room, filled with young people playing some sort of slapping and clapping game. It felt very exotic, well-designed, and peaceful. I walked past the numerous saunas and igloo rooms to check out the food, which was not so appealing. In the final corner, heated sleeping pods were available. I'm not sure why someone would want to sleep on the third floor of a bathhouse, but a few were occupied. Sporadically throughout the room were massage chairs, which were quite comfortable and relaxing. We gathered in the 67 degree sauna and laid on the heated rocks. A television was playing some sort of reality show where young girls are giggling and trying to get free bus rides. It was easy to tune out and wiggling on the rocks gave the sensation of slowly floating down onto a bed. We went into the igloo room, which I found uneventful and drab, but we did end up back in the 43 degree pool where we started. The entire experience was soothing and... exfoliating.

Afterwards -- and I couldn't have asked for more -- we had a duck feast, served and prepared in the traditional Korean style. Finally, we ended the night with Nostalgia drink -- whatever the hell that is. Are you one of the select few who can differentiate between tired and relaxed?

My Physical (Their Culture)

So I went to the hospital this morning to get my physical. It was an interesting process really pointing out the power of sheer human population. I had my height and blood pressure measured, followed by auditory, visual, and colorblind tests. Question: If there is a chance you can have your residency rejected based on your height, why don't they check you weight? I was then led into the next room where they asked for a urine sample. When I returned, I put my cup of urine on a tray of a dozen other uncovered urine samples. Rather disgusting. Then they sat me down next to two other people and took all of our blood samples. The seat was still warm. Someone had just been there and the surfaces had not been wiped clean. I was worried I would pass out, so I just looked away during the drawing. The doctor (or, more likely, nurse) asked, "Are you OK?" I looked at him and nodded, then looked away. Then I had my teeth checked out. I walked into a room with another patient already under the drill and the nurse looked at my teeth. I got the go ahead, but I wasn't sure if that meant I had to wait to lie down for another inspection. Principal Kwak led me to the next room instead, where I got my chest x-rayed. No lead padding or covering. I tried to stand as tall as possible so my neck and head were not exposed to gamma rays. Then I walked into the last room called "Occupational and Environmental Health" and sat down. I asked the doctor what that meant and he said psychology. Fortunately, his English was better than most of the teachers at Jung Chul. He asked some questions about family history. I assume he was asking these questions for psychological reasons, but I threw some heart attack and stroke curveballs his way. He looked at the bottom left corner of my eyes and tilted my head in some strange way and washed his hands of me. Not very thorough I must say. All-in-all, it was a traumatic process. Why height and dental exams but no weight or cardio tests? Why test to see if I am colorblind? What was the purpose of the "Occupational and Environmental Health" questions? Anyway, I think I passed the test.

People keep referring to Majeong as a small town. I just don't see it. We like in a 20 story dong next to several other "uh-par-teh" (apartments). There are thousands of people living here and there is no wilderness between here and Incheon or Seoul. It's a 20 minute bus ride to either city, but Majeong is fairly self-sufficient.

No one speaks English except my students, who sometimes help me order food at a restaurant near the school. The approach taken to teach English is a very odd one. The Korean culture (much like other Asian cultures) places great value on the group. Students do not want to be selected out from the group. People do not want to be selected out of the group. Students very often copy from one another or the previous page. They seldom think for themselves and attempt to memorize the entire English language. Not just the words, but whole sentences. For example, instead of teaching that subject-verb agreement depends on number and person (1st, 2nd, 3rd), the students memorize "I" statements, then "He" statements. Memorizing and copying serious problems for the students. I attempt to break them of this cultural habit, ingrained into them but a dozen years, by asking students to come up to the board and put their knowledge and creativity in front of the class. I cannot stress how little creativity matters. I don't think it is stifled, but it is simply not valued. I push the students to be unique and teach them that there are many right answers. For example:

They decided to build a statue.

They decided to build a statue in the center of town.

They decided to build a statue of Romeo and Juliet in the center of town.

They built a statue.

They built a statue in the center of town.

They built a statue of Romeo and Juliet in the center of town.

... (etc)

Forget about them writing "Mr. Montague and Mr. Capulet" instead of they.

In one of my younger classes, where the students don't understand anything except what I have taught them that day and "Quiet!", I told the students I would write their name on the board for talking out of turn. I wrote two students name on the board and they didn't seem to mind. I had been passing out high fives as tokens of appreciation (correct answer, being nice, helping a friend, shutting up). Grace asked why I wrote the names on the board. I told her I was going to let Kang Teacher see it. She asked, "You say, Kang say?" I nodded. She used Korean to explain that to the rest of her class and the owners of the two names on the board were visibly upset. I told them I would erase their names today if they said they would be good tomorrow. After they both said they would be good, I erased their names. Kate wanted a high five. Grace later kept asking me how many dollars I had, starting with billion. She shows signs of being an exceptionally motivated student.