Friday, April 30, 2004

Yesterday

Was only a few minutes late to the airport this time, and was actually IN the airport a few feet away when the information desk called on Nina's behalf. (Her plane got in early.) I'm getting better! By the time my brother and sister-in-law get here, I should even be a few minutes early to meet people!

I got my housing information from Harvard and I am in "The Grope," where most first years end up. I'm not sure I'm going to survive dorm life again. Especially since I'm not a kid anymore. But more especially since everyone else will be a kid.

Then again, I did get my first choice. There must not have been a lot of people willing to live in a room 8X12 feet. But like I said before, that's bigger than my bedroom now! Lovely advantage, me having lived here for two years.

I couldn't fall asleep last night at a decent hour, so I was up til midnight or so listening to Korean songs and trying to read the lyrics on bugsmusic. If you want to listen to Korean songs for free, check it out.

Tonight I'm testing to go up from brown belt to blue. Wish me luck.

Thursday, April 29, 2004

Done with being sick. And a good thing too, since Nina arrives today for a 10-day visit! Whee!

And now, some very random thoughts, because I have nothing else to write about at this time:

- I really need a haircut.

- I love my three pairs of track pants!

- That Britney Spears song? "Toxic"? It's catchy.

- New Zealand does look very beautiful.

- I'm so not studying Korean these days.

- Why is it that the people you want never want you? Except as friends?

- Maybe I should shave my head. I dunno. Because.

- The Moon Handbook on Korea is SO much better than Lonely Planet. Even if the author looks like a displaced member of the Montana Militia.

- Ooh, look! A package from Double M! A Minnesota shirt! Awesome!

- Wonder if I should send Double M a card or an email? A card is so much nicer.

- What am I gonna ask the fortuneteller next week?

- Must remember to pay for the freakin' DMZ tour. Must remember. Must. Remember.

- Maybe I should go on the tour again. Those soldiers were -- oh, shut it, hk.

- Okay! I am ALL OVER ... Stuff. And this is my motto: L.I.G. Sing it!

(- LET IT GO)

- I'm going to buy 15 more pairs of these track pants.

- And then I'll buy matching jackets.

- And then I'll put on silver hoops, a cute baseball cap, perfect makeup, and a sulky expression.

- And then I'll be a real, live Korean girl!

- After I get a haircut.

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

Sickly

It rained on Monday, and caught without an umbrella, I got drenched on the way home. A coworker, who shared her unbrella with me on the way to the subway, said that you really should avoid getting hit by Korean rain.

"Why?" I inquired, thinking of acid rain, pollution, chemicals drifting in from the Gobi.

"Because your hair will fall out," she deadpanned.

Come to think of it, I'm not sure she was joking.

In any case, I started feeling ickly yesterday evening, and have been subpar since then. Ugh. You know when you have no appetite, so you don't eat, and then you start feeling sick because you have nothing in your stomach, but the thought of eating still makes you green so you just lie on your bed wheezing weakly because you don't have the energy to breathe properly? That was me this morning. I know I should eat something, but ... urgh. The only things that sound appealing right now are pizza and ice cream, both of which would be really fun to digest. I can't figure my stomach out. It wants what could only hurt it. Damn you, stomach! Or, er, taste buds, rather!

Monday, April 26, 2004

Garden

On Sunday, my grandmother, great-aunt, dad, and I went to my grandmother's plot of land in Gwangju, about an hour east of Seoul. On terraces cut into the side of a mountill (somewhere between a mountain and a hill), my great-aunt had laid out rows of potato seedlings and covered them with black plastic to protect them from weeds. Some of the plastic had worked out of the loose dirt holding their edges down, and flapped in the cool breeze. A couple of other people were working on their plots when we arrived, but left for lunch; I think they were perhaps my grandmother's nieces and nephews, but I'm not sure.

I had originally made plans to see Throne of Blood, one of the films showing at the Akira Kurasawa festival in town, on Sunday, but my friend felt her eyes weren't up to it after undergoing Lasik surgery on Friday. So instead of seeing the Japanese version of Macbeth, I found myself eating sizzling pieces of just-fried pork and beef in a plastic-encased greenhouse, wrapping the pieces in lettuce that was growing right beside me.

My grandmother and great-aunt are old school in the way they prepare food -- they buy a lot of stuff from the market, of course, but they also grow their own potatoes and greens, as well as tramp through mountill sides for things like chestnuts, peanuts and acorns. They make their own noodles and rice cakes from scratch. Incredible. And sad too, to think that that knowledge will be lost when these two old women and the thousands of other old-schoolers like them pass away.

About 20 minutes after we got there, I caught the sight of my dad carrying an armload of gardening implements on his shoulder: shovel, pick-axe, rake, and a couple things I don't even know the names for. In the grown-up version of playing in the dirt, we set out to dig a large stone out of an unplanted section of the garden.

It was very, very large, though. Much larger than we thought.

So instead, we took the loose dirt and spread it around, tossing aside numerous rocks. By the time we finished creating a neat row like my great-aunt's potato seedlings, my hands, pants, arms, and probably hair were covered with dirt.

Great fun. And hard work. Now I know why some very old men and women here walk the way they do, bent over with their backs nearly horizontal to the ground: a lifetime of hunching over potato seedlings will do that to you.

Sunday, April 25, 2004

Geeks, wonks and me

Yesterday I took the Foreign Service Written Exam. Got up at 6 to get to the American embassy by 8, at which I lined up with what seemed like a forest of tall white guys with backpacks on. I felt like I was back in a college poli sci class.

The test was really long -- we started around 9 and didn't finish til 3. I can't really gauge how I did. I know I rocked the English expression part (not any sort of achievement, I assure you -- it simply tests if you're at native speaker level). I'm not sure how I did on the Job Knowledge section. I do know that -- despite Nina's admonition to memorize the map of the world -- I missed the question on which country did not border Iran. I think I probably bombed the essays, because I was thrown off by the need to write in formal analytical essay style -- kept having to resist the urge to throw in snide parenthetical comments like I do here. I think a few crept in, despite my efforts.

In any case, it was a bit of a lark, a bit of hedging my bets, and a bit of fun. I'm gonna end up taking all the standardized tests offered in the United States.

I talked to two guys while we were waiting to get in after the lunch break. One of them had spent two years in the Middle East for Peace Corps and can speak (but not write) Arabic. The other was interested in getting into any of the foreign affairs-related government agencies -- foreign service, CIA, NSA, whatever. Both are married to Korean women. Both do not speak Korean.

Now this is a topic of much interest to me. You remember I met a British consulate officer in taekwondo class last week who is also married to a Korean woman. He's at least learning Korean now at my old language program. And further along on the scale is KB, who had fallen for a Korean woman, but who was -- at the point of his departure -- about as good as I am in Korean.

Now, there are a lot -- and I mean a LOT -- of stereotypes about the preponderance of
Korean women married to American men: Korean women who hang out in Itaewon, the area of town close to the U.S. base, are looking to get married to a soldier so that they can immigrate to America. American men who come here and get married to Korean women can't find any takers in the U.S., and so have to marry someone outside their culture. Korean women are more feminine than American woman. Korean women are the most beautiful in the world and themselves a reason to come to Korea. Western women are ignored in Korea by Korean men and their own countrymen.

There are, in fact, a lot of American men married to Korean women, just as there are a lot of American men married to women of (at first!) non-American citizenry all over the world -- that comes naturally from having bases all over the world. I haven't looked into the statistics, but I suspect that the percentage is particularly high in Korea, owing to the constant presence of thousands of GIs here since the 1950s.

There are a lot of advantages to the American-Korean marriage. On the whole, I would agree that young Korean women are more feminine than their American counterparts (this can change drastically in middle age, though!). Gender roles are, in some ways, similar to those in the American 1950s. The days when a new wife was expected to support her husband and have babies are not so removed; indeed, popular television dramas still often portray professional women as conniving, cruel biotches while the long-suffering, dutiful wife is glorified. Now, in no way do I mean all western men feel this way, nor do I mean to put down the western men that might feel this way, but I can imagine that this kind of traditional-appearing woman might be a relief to the western men who come here.

On the flip side, Korean women married into Korean families have a ton of responsibilities to their in-laws. In former times, the new wife became the servant in all but name to their new mother-in-law. In the families of my cousins, I still see that kind of relationship being played out with my cousins' wives and my aunt. So it must be a huge freakin' relief to marry someone with not only no expectation of that kind of duty, but no knowledge of it!

I don't mean to discount any possibility of true love in these marriages. Some men and women might be aware of these factors, some might not, some might just have it in the back of their minds. I don't know exactly why, but I often think of these things when I see a western male-Korean female partnering. (Okay, to be perfectly honest, I suspect I do know why I think about this stuff, but that's for another time.)

To finish off my geeks entry ... I had a blind date last night. Yeah, I know.

My friend Clif, the Korean American guy in the U.S. army, set it up, and I found myself sitting at a table in an upscale Italian restaurant across from a 28-year-old Korean guy who went to high school and college in the States. Funny enough, he'd also registered for the Foreign Service exam, but ended up not taking it.

At dinner, I stumbled onto his passion, politics, and had a pretty decent conversation about the state of it in Korea. He said that his hero is Park Chung Hee, the military dictator who repressed civil rights but also was the single person most responsible for Korea's incredible economic growth after the Korean War.

Sounding eerily exactly like the kind of person my dad described as supporting the conservative Grand National Party, he said that he thought Korean people needed a strong leader, and that stability and safety was more important than certain rights. The left wing Uri Party, which won a huge number of seats in the recent Parliamentary election, was dangerous, because somewhere up the line, there was undoubtedly a connection back to North Korea, and North Korea had only one goal: a communist Korean peninsula under Kim Jong-il.

(This is the exact kind of thing that makes me very confused about how to classify myself vis-a-vis Korean politics -- I think North Korea is very dangerous, which would put me on the right, but I also believe social equality and civil liberties are worthy goals, which puts me on the left. Very confusing. Not in Kansas anymore, are we?)

An interesting thing he said was that true democracy may never work in Korea -- Korean people would take advantage of the system and its rights. He pointed out the blithe way in which Koreans ignore traffic laws -- "if we can't even follow traffic laws, how will we react to being given bigger freedoms?" I was suddenly reminded of the children's book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, in which the cookie-gifted mouse then asks for milk.

I don't know, there may be some truth to all this. There have been too many times in traffic, waiting in line for the bus, or getting on the subway where I think, scandalized, "You can't do that!" -- "that" being an illegal U-turn, stopping in the middle of the street to pick up someone, or blatantly pushing others aside to get on first. The Korean response would be: "Eh, it's not hurting anyone, so so what? It's just for a minute anyway." Whether that necessarily indicates an unreadiness for democracy is not something I can gauge. Remember, though, that western liberalism hasn't been around for very long in Korea. Definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

As usual, when writing about something I know little about, this entry has been too long and somewhat illogical. Sorry, dudes.

Friday, April 23, 2004

Bye, Maiko!

My best friend here, Maiko, left this afternoon for her homeland of Japan. I'll miss her terribly, but I'm surprisingly not as sad as I thought I would be. Maybe I got out all the mourning in the past month, ever since KB and my ex said goodbye (my ex after a painful year of keeping in touch; KB after -- well, you know). Maybe it's because Japan is less than two hours away by plane. Maybe it's because Maiko's traveled a lot and our chances of meeting again are higher than most. Maybe it's because I know I've made a friend for life.

Or maybe it's because I have some of Maiko's clothes and books that I'm to bring when I visit Japan this summer. (Awfully expensive to ship things, doncherknow. Heh.)

We went out with Mayu (the prairie dog-lover) last night for dinner at a restaurant near school that we've all become familiar with, and then to a saju cafe, where a saju reader told Maiko's future based on her birthyear, month, day and time. No crystal balls or tarot cards or examining of palms -- the reader sat in front of a computer and programmed the four numbers in, resulting in ... who knows what mystical info?

The reader talked about Maiko's career plans, love life, general personality -- the usual things you'd expect from a fortuneteller. She was startlingly correct about Maiko's job plans: she said that Maiko should go into something artistic or teaching, and that Maiko would be best off preparing or studying until October of this year. In fact, Maiko is planning on studying to become a Japanese language teacher, the test for which takes place in October.

Spooky, eh? I think I might go see one next week.

We topped off the evening by going to a karoake place and warbling away. I had to leave before they did, and it was a good thing, as my last memory of Maiko in Seoul is her merrily rapping to "Young Guns," a boy band (Sinhwa) song.

I met Maiko on my third day in Korea, and really just adore her. Actually, everyone adores her -- she's cute, capable, good-humored, open-minded, generous, thoughtful, humble, independent, and all-around utterly charming. She eats like a sumo wrestler, could fall asleep on a rollercoaster, takes more pictures than the entire slate of AP photographers, and knows more about Korean entertainers than any sane person should. More than one of my friends who didn't know her very well before they left have said that they wished they had gotten to know her better. I was one of the lucky ones who actually did.

All best, Maiko. See you soon.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

I love taekwondo
(so put another dime in the jukebox baby)

Why do I love thee, taekwondo? Because when I'm kicking, punching, and doing those moves, I can't think of anything else. And that's good news to an overthinker like me.

Tonight, due to unusually warm spring weather, condensation gradually beaded the studio floor until it was as slick as an ice rink, and I was reminded of the first time I ever attended class last year in July, when I slipped on the wet floor and fell with aplomb right onto my behind. Really a work of art, that fall.

Because I don't really have anything to write about tonight, I'll go with the Tiger Beat approach: There's a rather attractive British man in taekwondo class that, before tonight, I hadn't really talked to. (Really. I don't think I ever even exchanged one word with him.) But last week, when I was meeting my former teacher at language school for our weekly language exchange session, I saw a slightly familiar-looking fellow standing in the hallway on the 7th floor. I hadn't seen him for months, since I hadn't been to taekwondo since December, but I recognized him after a minute (people look really different out of their taekwondo uniforms).

I don't know what propelled me toward him, since we had never spoken in class. Perhaps it was the surprise of my worlds colliding that sent me in his direction, tilting my head in the internationally recognized gesture of Uhhh, are you who I think you are...? and blurting out, "Don't I know you from my taekwondo class?" Or, maybe it was just because he's cute.

We talked for just a minute or two before I had to meet my teacher, and I didn't see him again until tonight. Turns out that he's with the British embassy, has been in Korea for four years, and is taking a break from work to take a Korean class before heading back to England in July.

It also turns out that he's married (yeah, wouldn't you know it?) to a Korean woman (yep, situation normal all right) who used to be his language instructor (mm hm, one of those). Nevertheless, we had a very pleasant 20-minute conversation after class about Korean Americans and life in Korea, and -- I just figured this out -- it was very pleasant because it was of the analytical and knowledge-seeking style in which I am used to conversing with friends like BC. Ignoramus though I am (and proud of it!), there are times when I kinda miss those kinds of conversations.

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

Passing Thoughts

Sometimes, when I'm walking along the street, I'm startled to recognize in passersby the features of Korean American friends or family back home. Miss D's nose. My sister-in-law's lips. My cousin's gait.

I like to think that I've just seen Miss D's fourth or fifth or seventh cousin thrice removed, or that my sister-in-law, way back when in this extraordinarily ethnically homogenous country, shares the same ancestor as the woman who just walked by.

Sometimes, when I'm sitting in a cafe daydreaming, I'm startled to see a Caucasian person pass by or enter the room. I always feel like I'm a spy when this happens, pretending to be Korean but secretly all-American inside. Sometimes I have this urge to go up to them and ask them the time, just to ... I don't know. Establish that I'm one of them?

"Hey, it's nice to see someone else like me," I want to say, but then I realize that this is a singularly bizarre thing to say to a stranger, and that I would probably run away from someone who approached me this way. Non-Asian foreigners in Korea are like movie stars -- they can recognize each other as part of a group apart, experiencing the same difficulties and enjoying the same privileges. If I say anything, I'm instantly recognizable as an American. I become part of that group, and then I become distinct from all the other Korean people in the room. But most of the time, I say nothing, and they never know.

Sometimes, when I see young people studying English on the subway or see awkward English phrases on signs or t-shirts or backpacks, I think of how powerful America is, economically, politically, culturally. I think of all the Americans who don't have passports, don't know where Korea is, and don't care. But I also think that the countries in which American culture is so prevalent have an advantage over us: they know us, but we don't know them. And knowledge is power too.

"They know us" = Koreans know more about Americans. Sometimes, though, I think, "I know you, but you don't know me," in terms of being a minority in the States, and also having been on the fringes of an Indian American crowd in high school and a Jewish American crowd immediately post-college.

Just some thoughts I often have in passing.

Monday, April 19, 2004

Road Trip III: The Road Trip of Horrors

Okay, they weren't horrors. They were just scary.

Horror #1: On Saturday the 17th, we took the bus into Sokcho, the neighboring town to Sorak National Park. (That's not the scary part.) The park is stunningly beautiful (you might even say scarily beautiful, heh heh heh -- okay, I'll stop now). It's been a UNESCO-designated world biosphere reserve since 1981,and, like all the UNESCO sites I've seen so far, for bloody good reason. Towering craggy peaks, thickly forested hillsides, over 800 varieties of plants, 120 kinds of animals -- and yes, I'm quoting from the Moon Handbook to Korea that BC left me (much more descriptive than Lonely Planet, actually). It's what you think Korea should look like.

We took the cable car up to Gwon-geumseong peak, where we hiked up for about 10 minutes and then climbed up to the very tip-top of the mountain. And when I say climbed, I mean climbed -- the last bit is really over boulders, with no guardrails and a 1,100-meter drop to the ground. In order to take a picture at one point, I lay stomach down on the edge of one of the top rocks and looked down. Scary. But just magnificent.

On Sunday the 18th, we went to the park again and hiked up to see two waterfalls located in the midst of -- again -- towering craggy peaks, etc. It's funny, I don't think of myself as a nature girl. I wouldn't even quite say that hiking is a hobby of mine, or that I love doing it. If there's a mountain in front of me, the obvious course of action to me is to hike it. What else would you do with a mountain? I can't really conceive of doing anything else with a trail before me. So when Mayu, Maiko and I were sweating up a storm, climbing up the metal staircase so thoughtfully constructed for most of the way, I wasn't happy per se. I just was. Maybe that's what appeals to me.

Horror #2: Sokcho doesn't have much to offer in the way of amusements (although we did get approached by club hawkers a few times), but it is known for its seafood. There's an area of town on the beach that features restaurant after restaurant with tubs of live fish, eel, crab, etc. -- you can point out the ichthyoid (how many minutes did I have to search to figure out that name for fish?) you want to eat, and it'll get brained on the sidewalk in front of ya.

When that happened to a customer standing beside us, I was startled, but quickly reminded myself that there's no other way for the fish to get on the table, after all. Well, I suppose you can cut its head off, which might be more humane, but ... yeah, well, anyway, it was startling. But that's not the horrifying part.

The horrifying part was when a plate of two fish, heads intact but scaled, skinned, and sliced into bite-size pieces was set in front of us. I like sashimi, so I dug in as hungrily as my two Japanese friends, and took up a slice of yummy flesh. It was good. No, it was gooooood. And then it happened.

The fish flapped its gills.

I didn't quite catch the movement the first time, when Mayu pointed it out, but the second time, you'd have to have been blind not to see. The fish flexed its gills wide open.

And again.

And again.

I was so shocked and horrified, I couldn't help it -- tears rose to my eyes. I had just swallowed a bite of that fish -- the fish that was freaking flapping its gills in front of me.

Dabbing at my eyes with a napkin, I choked out in English to Maiko, "It's dead, right? It's dead, isn't it?"

She replied in English, "Yes, it's dead."

The employee who'd convinced us to come into that restaurant stopped by our table and asked what was wrong. Maiko said in Korean, "Our friend is from America and has never seen that."

"It's dead, right?" I asked him in Korean.

"Yes, but there are still some nerves in the head that are working," he said. "

Upon closer inspection, this was the way the fish had been prepared: from the head down to the tail, both sides of the fish had been cut away and the meat sliced up into pieces. However, the spine was left intact all the way down to the tail. When I asked why they didn't simply just cut the head off, Maiko explained that that was the point -- the fact that it was moving was a clear indication of how fresh the fish was. It didn't happen all the time, but this fish must have been a strong one to keep on moving.

"But," I asked, my appetite gone, "isn't the fish able to feel pain, then?"

Mayu and Maiko both considered this for a moment. Mayu answered, "I never thought about that before."

And Maiko said, "That's why we have to eat all of it."

They resumed eating. After staring at the fish blankly for a few seconds, I reminded myself that cultural differences should be appreciated, dammit, so stop being such a baby and eat. All of it.

So I took up my chopsticks with a determined tap on the table, and ate. But not the fish that had moved. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Last year, on my trip with my dad to Jeju Island, I saw people eating live small octopus (they cut off the tentacles and drop them, wriggling, down the hatch), and thought that it might be kind of cool to try sometime. But after the experience with the fish that moved, I don't think I can. I have nothing against eating animals, and I know darn well that someone somewhere's got to kill the fish, cow or chicken so I can enjoy my burger or whatnot. I've got nothing against killing an animal so I can eat it (although the methods used by the American meat industry are deeply disturbing, which is why I'm for buying organic). But eating while something is still alive? I'm not gonna be able to do it. It's deeper than a knee-jerk grossed-out reaction -- it's just the thought of enjoying something while that something might still be able to feel pain.

According to my dad, in those kinds of live seafood places, crabs, eels and other seafood are boiled alive to make seafood stew (which we also had that night in Sokcho). Not just dropped into boiling water, which happens in a lot of places with crabs, at least, but put into a pot of water that is then heated to the boiling point. So the eel or crab or whatnot is thinking, "Damn, it's getting hot in here! What up?" and eventually gets boiled to death. Yow. Apparently, seafood restaurants located more inland usually use frozen seafood, which seems a more kindly way to kill. I think I'll stick with those.

Horror #3: We stayed in a place run by a little old lady, where we could hear the waves breaking on the shore (one of the great things about Sorak National Park is that it has your mountains and waterfalls and forests, but a hop and a skip away, Sokcho's got your beaches and sand and very live seafood for ya). We could not, however, see the ocean, because okay, 1. we didn't have a window facing the sea, but 2. even if we had, the 2-meter-high concrete barrier topped off with barbed wire was in the way.

Sokcho is not far from the 38th parallel, and the threat of North Korean spies or invasion is taken seriously here. When we were walking back from dinner on Saturday night, Mayu and I climbed up the steps of a guard post to look at the ocean, and were talking about how you couldn't see anything except waves, when Maiko whisper-shouted to us to come down. A second later, a door opened just above the step where we were standing, and a soldier poked his head out. Mayu and I ran down the stairs, murmuring apologies, and the soldier vanished into the guard post again.

"They have guns in there," Maiko said in Japanese to Mayu and in English to me. "I saw them sticking out."

Later that night, Maiko wanted to try to get a photo of the guns, but when we did a walk-by, a sensor beeped quietly, and the soldiers inside peered out at us. At around 11:20 pm, both soldiers left the post, carrying their rifles. Maiko got a shot of them walking away.

The next morning, I went for a walk and took some pictures of the barbed wire, and the sea beyond. The beauty of the beach, and the stark reminder that war is still not technically over on the peninsula.

Friday, April 16, 2004

Went to see an old classmate's new baby (four months old and cheeks like a chipmunk) tonight. Etsuko, Mayu, and our level 4 instructor were already there when I arrived, and it was an excellent, low-key evening. I reconfirmed that I have no maternal instinct whatsoever, but the baby was pretty chill, and Hiroko was drinking beer, and it was really no problem at all.

But I noticed that something happens when I spend an evening talking only Korean: my neuroses calm down. Thoughts simplify.

I read (very, very slowly) Of Mice and Men last summer in both Korean and English for the first time, and, forced to pay attention to all the words instead of skimming for content as I usually do with novels, I found myself noticing the symbolism and appreciating Steinbeck's style. I was present much more than usual. Engaged. Involved.

It's not exactly the same thing (in fact, it's almost the opposite, now that I think about it), but a related process happens when I speak only Korean with people with whom I can't fall back into English. Sometimes I can't put the thoughts into words and that's why I don't, but sometimes it's also that there's just no cultural basis for comparison in Korean for the particular anxieties or thoughts I have as a upper middle class and highly educated American.

I have a vague memory of Def (the guy half of Def and Stave) mentioning the same thing about communicating with his parents in Chinese; his desire to pursue a career that might be less lucrative and stable but probably more fulfilling than law sort of withered in the face of his parents' cultural worldview.

It's not that Korean culture is less deep than American culture, but there is a profound practicality verging on hastiness about it that makes expression of my search for meaning and truth seem adolescent (notwithstanding the fact that it is, on a certain level).

It's like this: buildings go up and down with astonishing rapidity here. One day there's a building, the next day it's gone, and two months later, there's a brand new building in its place. Yeah, it might not be a vision of architectural beauty, and yeah, the old building might not have been in such bad shape, but the point was to get a building up, and it's up now, so so what if it's not perfect? It's up, isn't it? Let's go drink some soju.

With such an attitude, modern Korean might not be producing the world's greatest philosophers, but it can boast one of the fastest economic success stories in history (well, up until the IMF crisis of 1997, anyway). The president under which this happened was President Chung Hee Park, who is credited for most of the amazingly rapid growth, as well as condemned for human rights abuses and repression of civil liberties. This dual identity is why many members of the older generation here have good memories of him (he set Korea on the road to modernity) and why many of the younger generation revile him (those human rights abuses and all).

In 1979, after 18 years of rule, President Park who was assassinated by the head of the Korean CIA. Yesterday, his daughter was elected the head of the Grand National Party, the conservative party of the Korean Parliament that was primarily responsible for the impeachment of current liberal president Roh Moo-hyun. It's very interesting indeed, the generational divide in Korea -- older people voted mostly for the Grand National Party, while younger people voted mostly for the liberal Uri Party.

The Uri Party, by the way, won the majority of seats in Parliament in yesterday's election, but the Grand National Party lost fewer seats than expected. To paint it with a very, very broad brush, it might seem that the younger generation, as younger generations are wont to do, are more concerned about those western humanistic values, like civil liberties, human rights, etc., while the older generation, with the practicality borne out of memories of hard times, voted for the party with the hard line on North Korea and more American-friendly sentiments.

It's tough to say exactly what kind of things we can expect from the first liberal majority in years. Democracy is still very young in Korea, and doesn't follow the same staid structure of American politics. With President Roh's party having won a significant victory, the Constitutional Court ruling on his impeachment is most likely to come down in his favor. (So goes the common wisdom, despite the fact that a high court should really rule on the basis of, like, law and stuff.) The Uri Party is much more in favor of kicking Americans out of Korea, and continuing the sunshine policy with North Korea (the former seems unlikely but the latter rather likely). So we'll see.

Wow, this entry made no sense whatsoever. Oops. I'm going to Sorak Mountain tomorrow with Maiko and Mayu, so I'll try to become more coherent over the weekend. Read this for an account of the elections that actually says something.

(After reading the entry again: Damn, it really makes no sense at ALL. Sorry.)

Thursday, April 15, 2004

Tax day for y'all and election day here. Should tell you the interesting things I learned from my friends about this year's elections, but will instead tell you not to let anyone tell you that there's nothing good about smoking. Last night, as I had my cigarette of the day outside the apartment door, I gazed up at the tree next to the building, and realized that there were five birds sleeping in the branches. Have never seen a bird sleeping. Would never have seen those five if I hadn't been smoking.

Oh, and a pack of cigarettes costs $1.50 here.

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

Ignoramus

One of the reasons I've been so happy in Korea is, I think, the increasing distance I put between myself and current events. When I first got here, I used to read the Washington Post online, Salon.com, occasionally the New York Times, and even browse my way over to Slate.com once in a while. Yeah, I may have headed straight for the Style/Entertainment/Mothers Who Think/Sex sections, but I'd at least get a glimpse of the headlines for the serious sections, and sometimes even read an article or two from the straight news.

When I started working three days a week, my overall time in front of the computer decreased. At the same time, my work-per-hour ratio went up, so even when I was in front of the computer, I often didn't have time to aimlessly web-surf.

Add to that a desire to fling myself into studying Korean and the feeling that I was already spending too much time as it was communicating in English, and the result is this: I'm the least informed about current events since my college days.

I can "understand" the Korean news on TV in very, very broad terms (to give you an example, if you had Peter Jennings talking about the irony of Republicans supporting the biggest budget for the Department of Education in history, I'd understand that money and schools were involved), but I'm at least a year or two away from being able to read and understand wonky commentary of the type I used to read online. (Most of the time they were more fun to read than the straight news.)

I do feel guilty about not being more informed, but I don't miss being caught up on current events. Ignorance is bliss, baby! Okay, to be totally honest, I probably do have somewhat of a handle on the big events going on in both Korea and the U.S., but I don't miss the day-to-day coverage and self-involved personal commentary on politics and the like.

In a half-hearted attempt to get myself current again, though, I logged on to Salon today and read that
these dolls are in vogue. I find them scary. Save me from self-conscious irony and hipness!

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

Ow

Went to taekwondo for the first time in 4 months last night, and am paying for it today in sore legs, arms, sides, everything. Flubbed all the patterns except one, and even forgot the progression of the pre-workout stretches. But -- it was as great as it always has been, and though a fair number of people I was used to seeing are no longer there, there were enough familiar faces to feel at ease.

Actually, there are two women there I met for the first time last night, and one is studying to become a police officer while the other is studying to become a military officer. Wow.

I did get hit up for English language lessons, though, from an eager mother of two boys. Grr. I tried to demur, saying that I had no teaching experience, but was not able to definitively shut that idea down. I think I might have done that when I first arrived in Korea, but I've learned that that isn't the way things are done here. Must think of a polite roundabout way to refuse. Or just avoid her.

Also in the ouch news: yesterday, in salute to the very warm spring weather, I wore my neat little DSW black slingbacks for the first time in months and -- am paying for it today. Blister the size of China. Started limping about an hour into my day, and then broke down and bought knee-high nylons, which cut down the friction a bit, but still -- ow. Walking back from taekwondo class down a steep, steep hill didn't help matters.

Oh, by the way, I figured out yesterday a way to explain why I dislike spring. It came to me as I hobbled home and paused to look at a magnolia tree that, until two days ago, was magnificently in bloom. Each night for the past week or so, I've paused to appreciate its blossoms, illuminated by the streetlight just beside the tree, marvel at the beauty of spring, and consider rethinking my position on this particular season. But last night, I stopped and looked and saw that most of the blossoms had fallen.

That's why I hate spring. You have this brilliant, gaudy, inspirational burst of colors and smells, and it all goes away in about a week. Goodbyes, goodbyes. You seeing a theme here? I don't want to say goodbye, I don't want to let go, and that goes for spring's charms too. I'm not immune to them -- I enjoy the pretty blossoms as much as the next guy. But they all wither and die away in a few days!

I know, I know, live for the moment. Appreciate what you get when you get it. Stop seeing the death of things in their birth. Okay. I know.

In any case, with spring rapidly turning into summer, my spirits seem to be lifting. Had a quite productive conversation today with my language teacher from last term, in which we decided to meet once or twice a week for language exchange. Bought a grammar book and everything, which should go a long way to keeping me on the study schedule.

Also started -- or re-started, I should say! -- the book of poems and illustrations by a well-known Buddhist monk (who is at least as famous for his looks as well as his artistic talent). I still have to look up the majority of words, but I seem to be able to capture the feeling better than a year ago. The section I'm reading is quite sad, actually -- this particular monk was given to the monastery by his mother, who had promised a son to the temple, and the poems so far deal with his sadness as a young child who missed his mother.

Last in the news for today, I finally got around to seeing As the Flag Waves, a movie following the story of two brothers in the Korean War. It's in some respects similar to Saving Private Ryan, even down to the scenes of the present-day surviving brother that bookend the story (though done much better than the Ryan scenes). A bit too many battle scenes; I thought they started losing their efficacy the third time around. Nevertheless, we were all sobbing by the end, as we were meant to.

Even as I was dabbing at my eyes, though, I was thinking that the most moving parts of the film for me were those dealing with the family of the two brothers, and the images of people packing up their possessions to leave Seoul. My parents were both born in the capital in fall 1948; the Korean War broke out on June 25, 1950. Both sets of grandparents were among the thousands who took their things and fled. By June 28, Seoul was in North Korean hands. It was not retaken by UN forces until March 15, 1951.

I usually avoid war movies, but I've been more interested in seeing them since I've been here. It's so near, physically, psychologically. No matter how I say it, it going to sound ridiculous, but ... war has got to be the most horrible thing in the world. I think that's the most important realization I came back from Cambodia with. There too, people sharing the same blood, the same faces, the same country killed each other for years.

In more current news, the Parliamentary elections are the day after tomorrow. You can tell because at every golldurned subway stop there are several pairs of women (mostly, but some men too) bowing deeply to all the passersby and braying, "Please remember [name of candidate], [number on the poll], thank you very much." It'll be interesting to see how much the president's party benefits from the country's anger and embarrassment about the recent impeachment.

Saturday, April 10, 2004

I sent the umpteenth my-friends-are-all-leaving-so-boo-hoo email to my Canadian doppelganger today, and in return got a beautiful, lovely phone call back. Mia, Mia, Mia, you make me so glad to be alive, because I get to know people like you.

Fueled by the optimism flowing from Canada, I messaged my prairie dog-owning Japanese friend Mayu, and arranged to go for a walk on Youido Island, which is famed for its cherry blossoms in the spring.

Well, pretty much all the cherry blossoms are gone now, which was rather disappointing, but Aki (who also joined us) and I were muchly amused by Mayu trying to get close enough to pet one of the wild rabbits that roam around the Youido Gardens.

While we ate kimbap (Korean sushi), spicy rice cakes, chicken shishkebab and cotton candy, we people-watched and doubled up in laughter about: 1. a guy wearing a purple shirt, purple pants, and purple shades; 2. a girl wearing bright, rainslicker-yellow skirt, shirt, and cowboy hat (yes, that's right, a cowboy hat); and 3. a girl wearing a very short blue and white skirt with black high heels.

There's a huge square on Youido that was originally meant for anti-communist rallies, and can apparently accommodate 1 million people. Completed in 1972, it is the biggest plaza in Asia. The material out of which it is constructed -- asphalt -- was chosen by the president himself, so that it could double as a runway for the Air Force in the event of a national crisis. (For you urban studies enthusiasts out there, see this site, which looks kinda ugly but is full of extremely interesting facts about the plaza.)


Said plaza was full of people today doing just about everything one can do on a flat surface in the public: rollerblading (everything from beginners taking a class to grunge gals and guys doing tricks), playing basketball, biking, skateboarding, walking, eating, sitting -- even a couple of people sleeping. We watched some very cool-looking guys doing tricks on bicycles, and no doubt showing off because I was snapping pictures of them with my big-ass pro-looking camera.

The bikers reminded me of the skateboarder subculture back home, which for some reason holds a certain fascination for me. Actually, that's probably a holdover from going out with John -- he used to do downhill skating when he was younger, until he went flying over a parked car one day in the misguided hope that he could jump over it (the parked car, yes) in an attempt to avoid a moving car that was coming at him. Man, how come I don't have memories like this? Oh wait -- maybe it's because I didn't have a death wish when I was younger.

It still gets cold in the evenings, so when the sun went down, we decided to head to Shinchon and get dinner, for which Maiko joined us. Over a Mr. Pizza combo, Aki told us about her work visa woes, and various stories she's heard about other people trying to work in Korea.

Among Aki's colleagues at her previous parttime job, there were two people who only had C3 (?) visas, on which you can stay only 3 months in Korea and technically can't work. However, one of the colleagues had renewed this visa SEVEN times in order to work at her job. When she got called in by the Immigration Service, she told them that she was dating a Korean guy and wanted to get married to him, but that his parents were against it, and that they were still trying to work things out.

"They believed this?" I asked incredulously.

"Well," Aki replied, "it's sort of true -- she does have a Korean boyfriend -- but mostly she got away with it because she pretended to start crying, and you know how Korean people have a lot of jong [translated variously as feelings, love, emotions, heart]."

Aki's other colleague had a different story: he pretended that he was studying to enter a Korean university. "I guess he might get called in for an interview also," Aki said with a grin, "and they might ask him why the heck it's taking so long for him to start college. But he can always say that he's trying to get into a very competitive college, and so needs to keep studying."

Aki herself has secured a position with a large hotel in Busan, the second largest city in Korea, but it's all contingent on her getting a certain kind of work visa, and with her being a foreigner in a country where youth unemployment is extremely high, the getting of the visa is very uncertain. I wish her much luck. Being a gyopo, or overseas ethnic Korean, I don't have problems of this kind -- I can stay here for two years at a stretch and pretty much work anywhere. Just another advantage in the life that is hk's.

Friday, April 09, 2004

Hey yo.

Late night confession time.

Been kinda blue of late, owing to people leaving, and a significant interaction earlier this week with my former significant other.

Goodbyes, goodbyes, goodbyes. What's so good about 'em? S'all I'm asking.

KB said, in the context of how hard it was to leave Korea, that I too would realize only at the end of my stay here how many friends I had. And, more importantly, that it was only at the end that I, like he, would realize how precious they were to me.

Seeing that a large percentage, if not number, of good friends are leaving before me or have left already, I'm hitting that point a lot earlier than I expected to. Everything about Korea seems more dear than ever before.

It's entirely normal that we should see things in this light at the end of an experience. Most of us, I think, would have a hard time getting through our days if we were constantly thinking of how wonderful and precious every second with our friends was, and how we had to treasure it. It might take away from the simple pleasures of sitting around listening to and laughing uncontrollably about how loudly our stomachs are gurgling, or watching a cheeseball drama and muttering "vodkavokdavodka" whenever the Russian pimp appears on the screen, or finding the third fantastic 80-cent shirt of the day at the Express Bus Terminal mall. I'm thankful that we're wired to realize only afterwards that the pleasures of life are in the simple interactions that we don't think much of when they're actually happening.

Some people, though, aren't wired that way. My Canadian doppleganger last year. My old mate Linders. My college friend Stave (the girl half of Def and Stave). My former significant other. Deep thinkers, all of them, and capable of profound depths of emotion.

But I can't decide if they're blessed or cursed with this ability to realize the dearness as it happens. It seems more of a curse to me. How much easier would it be to live life casually -- not necessarily unthinkingly (though that sounds good too sometimes), but just more carefree? In particular, it seems like a curse for my former S.O., who has the biggest capacity to love of any human being I've come across. He chose me to love, and treasured our relationship as it happened. And he chose badly, I think, because he chose someone who doesn't have the same capacity to treasure and to love and to hold dear.

Man, I don't know. As my fellow ClubDOJ member Allen used to say: "I don't know nuthin' about nuthin'." I just know that goodbyes can be good, yeah, sure, and they can be good for you, but that lately, they just plain old suck.

Some cheese with that whine?

Why, yes, please. Love cheese.

Mm. Cheese. Cheeeeeeese.

Oops. Drool.

So, I have freakin' memorized the HLS financial aid office's address. Memorized it!

Grr.

So, I applied for dorm housing. The cheapest is very cheap ($5,300 for the year), and very small (8X12). But I have a really great advantage in having lived here for the past two years -- in Korea, an 8X12 room is BIG!!! Mwah ha ha hah!

I'm serious. Maiko's room is about 5X10. And costs $305 a month. It's like you're on a ship. Or in prison.

So, I don't understand why I have to go about getting freakin' signature guarantees from bankers in order to move my own damn funds around. Vanguard, I loved thee, but I loveth thee no longer. In fact, I think thee sucketh.

I'm hungry.

Anybody got some cheese?

Thursday, April 08, 2004

Mawiage

My friend Cliff, who in MI (military intelligence to you and me), went to China for a business trip a couple days ago, and told me that it's routine for the Chinese army to search American MI soldiers' rooms while they are out. So they are told to be very careful about what they bring -- absolutely no computers or equipment of any kind that might contain any sort of information about anything.

I know that shouldn't be a surprise, but I was still... surprised. Secret spy stuff! Wooo!

Ciff's got an unusual story -- he was adopted by his aunt (Korean) and uncle (Caucasian American and military) when he was 9 years old and lived in the American midwest from then on. He's not a Korean adoptee per se, because he has a family here in Korea -- he was just picked out of his 5 brothers and sisters to move to the U.S. some 20 years ago, because ...? I'm not sure even now what the reason was. So he grew up one of two Asian kids at his high school in Oklahoma, and became entirely Americanized. Married a Caucasian woman, has three kids, is entirely secure in his loyalty to the United States.

BC and I went out to dinner with Cliff and his wife on my birthday, and his wife said something interesting on the way out of the restaurant: I was walking beside Cliff, and she said, "You know, people are going to think that you and hk are married." And with that, she caught up his arm and walked with him outside.

I never really thought about it before, but it must be hard being married to an ethnic Korean man in Korea if you're Caucasian. American-Korean marriages are pretty normal here thanks to the huge U.S. presence, but it's usually a Caucasian male-Korean female combination, which isn't too hard for the male side, because 1. it's a man's world here, and men have much fewer obligations than women in regard to familial interactions; and 2. white men are in such a privileged position here that they're not expected to know or do things the Korean way.

Cliff's wife, on the other hand, has to deal with not meeting the expectations of a Korean wife, which are backbreakingly numerous. She's given leeway, obviously, because she's not Korean, but she clearly feels how much of an outsider she is. Tough deal.

I was studying with Cliff and Aki for our final last month, and while Aki was taking a phone call outside the classroom, we fell to talking, which is when I found out about his unusual childhood (can you imagine the conflict?). He also said, "If I had to do it again -- and this is taking nothing away from my wife, who is wonderful -- I think I'd probably look for a Korean girl to marry. It's just easier."

I understood completely. It's not that he regrets marrying his wife, or that he doesn't think the moon of her. It's just that it's tough being part of a culture that your partner can only see and experience the top layer of. I've never dated an Asian guy myself, and I wonder now, having lived in Korea for a year and a half and experienced the culture to some extent as someone who sorta belongs to it, how hard it would be to be married to someone who didn't understand that culture -- and ergo, me -- to at least the extent I do. If there were kids in the picture, it would be that much more complicated. Fortunately, I don't want any rugrats, so that's that. But it would still be frustrating.

Tough deal for both.

I'm not saying I want to marry KB, or entertain any notions about that, but if I did marry a non-Korean, KB would be the ideal type of westerner to marry -- already conversant in the language, appreciative of the culture, and cognizant of the privileges he's accorded as a western male.

It'll be interesting to see if my views on this topic change when I'm back in the States. How much will Korea have changed me? How much will it still be affecting me when I'm back? And will I still be boring you all with this blog when I'm a law student? Hm.

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

Another road trip

I know I haven't written about the first one (participants: Maiko, BC, my dad, and the loudest man in Korea), but here's a rundown about the second road trip of the season. This one took place because Maiko is leaving Korea in about two weeks, at which time I will be horribly depressed, having lost my best friend here. (Insert appropriate gnashing of teeth, sobbing sounds, and nose-blowing honks here.)

Monday was a holiday, so we left that morning and I came back this afternoon (Wed.) in time for work.

For some reason, Maiko has wanted to go to this little town called Mokpo for a while. It's located on the southwestern end of the peninsula, and is known (sort of) for its seafood and... well, nothing much else. Which we discovered when we got there.

Maiko: "I didn't realize that there was nothing here to see! I'm sorry!"

Tourism-wise, Mokpo is the launching point for seeing Hongdo, an island renowned for the reddish tint of its cliffs. It looks quite pretty -- judging from the brochures. Hongdo is 115 kilometers out to the west, and it would have cost about $45 to go, so we decided to ditch that idea.

Instead, we put our stuff in the lockers at the train station (which was kinda cool, since the lock involved an electronic fingerprinting mechanism), and climbed the small mountain in the middle of town. We caught a rather spectacular sunset over the ocean and various islands to the west, as well as a heavy full moon to the east, complete with moonshine gleaming over the water. I also interrupted a couple at the top of the mountain, who were in serious mid-kiss when I scrambled up the last few steps, breathless and encumbered with bag and camera. Oops! Sorry, guys.

That night, pooped out from the impromptu hiking, Maiko slept 12 hours straight. Without waking up once. It's amazing. The girl has a gift. She also falls asleep on violently lurching local buses, as well as herky-jerkily driven jeeps and cars. Put her in a moving vehicle and I guarantee you that she will be asleep in 42 seconds. I timed it. (Well, no, I didn't, but it sounds good, doesn't it?)

Me, I slept well, but woke up after 7 hours or so. Dozed on and off and then lay on the warm floor thinking, periodically glancing over at Maiko with wonder and deep-seated sleep envy. I think I used to sleep really deeply. What happened?

On Tuesday, we headed to Jindo, an island about an hour's drive south of Mokpo that is home to the world-famous Jindo dog. A man on the bus told me that a Jindo dog once found its owner after traveling 12,000 ri, an old unit of distance that means about 393 meters, or 2.4 miles. Wait. Maybe it was 1200 ri? The peninsula's only 600 miles long. Did the dog go round and round the perimeter of the peninsula? No, it must have been 1200 ri. Oh god, I need sleep.

Anyhoo. Jindo is at the southernmost tip of the peninsula and is most famous for its "Mysterious Sea Road," a.k.a. the Moses phenomenon. There are some very strong tides around Jindo, which are responsible for what looks like a Charleton Heston-like parting of the seas between Jindo and Modo island. The resultant curved road is about 2.8 kilometers long. On certain days the path is 10 to 40 meters wide!

Since we were about a month early for the really spectacular annual parting, the path wasn't as wide as that, but the way it sort of "rose up" out of the sea was pretty damn cool. We bought thigh-high yellow wading boots/socks for 5,000 won (about $4.40) and went out about halfway, watching locals and a couple tourists dig through the sand and rocks for shellfish and small octopus. One man showed us two he'd caught that were clinging to his hand; they'd bring 5,000 won a piece on shore, he said.

The cab driver who'd driven us from the bus station patiently waited an hour and a half (free of charge!) while we played in the water, and then, after we merely inquired about lodging, drove us straight to a motel near the station. He was all ready to jump out and inquire about vacancies for us but we managed to convince him that we'd be all right. Jindo people are really nice, we decided.

This was verified that night, when we went out for dinner and asked the restaurant owner, a tall, sturdy man with a tanned face, where the nearest bank was. He said we reminded him of his daughters and insisted on driving us to the bank and then back. He would have driven us to the hotel if it hadn't been right next to his restaurant.

Later I asked Maiko, "Do you think all Jindo people are this nice? Crazy!"

"Um... I think we're just lucky."

This morning I headed back to Seoul, in time for work at 2 pm. Maiko's still sightseeing, in a different town. Though the bus was fairly comfortable for the 4.5 hour trip, I couldn't really sleep. Envy. And also -- incoherence.

Tomorrow school starts -- but not for me. Wah.

Back to work for me.

Friday, April 02, 2004

Eeeee! Aaagh! Yaaaaaay!

And hallelujah!

Okay, so this blog is turning into Tiger Beat, but ... I was, like, checking my email and stuff? And like, I totally had this spooky sixth sense kind of thing where I was totally sure that this guy had written me, but then I was just like, "no way! Just like, give it up already!" but then I scrolled down the page and his name was totally there! Yeah, like I soooo could not believe it!!! Omigod, from now on, I'm totally gonna believe in God and stuff, cuz my prayers? They SO came true!

Eek. Whoa, I'm really sorry about that. But I really did have to hold back a big ole TRL-type squeal when I saw KB's name in my inbox. I'm still grinning like a fool.

And yes, I did have that spooky sixth sense kind of feeling just before I scrolled down the page. I also predicted that my friend at work had started seeing someone before she told me... am I turning into a psychic?

Y'all just chew on that while I go dance in the hallway. Right after I read the email again.

Thursday, April 01, 2004

Boxes

Many little boxes.

Marital Status? Loan-only applicant? Filing taxes in 2003? Preferred dorm for the lottery?

Plbbbt!

Then there's the box for parental marital status. Huh. Kinda personal, ain't it? Well, if you really want to know, though, how about giving me a page or two to describe my parents' relationship? I might be able to give you the gist of it then.

And then there are the fill ins. Permanent address? Okaaaay. Do you want my Seoul address, which'll change in five months to a Cambridge address? No? Well, then, do you want my DC address, which I still use to forward mail, but which will be -- again -- invalid in five months? What's that? My parents' address? My dad moves about as frequently as I do, and my mother lives in a long-term residence hotel -- out of which she plans to move soon.

So which is it? Do you actually want to reach me, or do you want something that approximates a "permanent" address? If it's the latter, honey, just email me. That address is more permanent than anything I could give you.

Oooh, and now you wanna piece of me too, Mr. Taxman? Okay, then answer me this: how the hell am I supposed to know what the exchange rate was at the time I received each of my monthly paychecks in 2003? It's not like I was keeping track, you know. I was freakin' living in Korea. So it's not like I cared how much the paycheck was worth in U.S. dollars. Hence, no calculations from that time! You're just gonna have to deal with an exchange rate that's 4 to 16 months later than the one from the time I actually received the check!

And now that I'm on the topic, how about considering the possibility that not all Americans working and living abroad are doing so through multinational corporations? I'm not handing the whole tax mess over to the bean counter in the basement, I'm actually doing it on my own. So, like, do you think you could possibly give an example of someone like me instead of instructional stories about Mr. Smith and his wife Jane who move to London at the behest of Mr. Smith's company and buy a car and find schools for their kids and shit? I'd be ever so grateful. Cause I don't fit into your little boxes, Mr. Man. And it's mighty uncomfortable trying to squeeze into them.

That goes for you too, Harvard. Double plbbbt!