July 20, 2008
Bad weather feels like a
paperweight on my brain. Was forced to nap all afternoon, and so woke
disoriented and sleepy.
Now the streets are a dirt slushy from all the rain and I cannot go outside.
Fact vomit:
Korean people in general
do not like the taste of cilantro. They tend to be much taller than Japanese
and Chinese. Mysticism
and science are taken equally seriously despite frequently contradictory
claims.
It is considered
somewhat vulgar for a girl to bare her shoulders and upper arms in public.
Back to bed.
July 19, 2008
Went to see 좋은놈 나쁜놈 이상한놈 with few expectations and found
myself, strangely, moved
most by the
action. The movie could easily have been made in America, so expensive its
production
and so predictable its plot (the characterization of various other kinds of
Asians seemed
particularly
American), but the chase scenes were genuinely stunning.
Compounding
my experience was the strange setting of the Gold Club, a 30-person theatre
where
the seats
went into full recline and the snacks were delivered during the movie. The
ostensible luxury
of the
theatre was so aggressive as to be off-putting; the luxury of the movie, the
hundreds of millions
of dollars
implied by such seamless camera work and gratuitous action, was more
interesting. There
is something
seductive to such production no matter what the movies about, and my ability
to watch
and enjoy
just about anything in high-definition seems as good a way as any to confirm my
nationaliy.
July 18, 2008
Look what I have
wrought: Jaewon made a blog and
its better than mine! A pox on his house, except
when I want to come over
and watch Dawsons Creek and eat clementines!
July 17, 2008
I justify my constant
complaining with the defense that its at least creative complaint. Could
anyone hate
Sofia Coppolas lazy,
hazy take on Asia as acutely as I? Lost in Translation was an extended music
video
featuring the most
flattering stand-in she could write: a cynical Yale philosophy student (in ur
dreamz Sofia)
with a wandering sense
of dissatisfaction and some nice Marc Jacobs sweaters. Just like me! Not quite
like
Sofia.
If I were in charge of
such a motion picture, I would have gotten rid of the proxy Whitey all together
and
made something much more
like Millennium Mambo (for Taipei), Caf Lumire (for
Tokyo), or Woman on
the Beach
(for Seoul). All three deal with loneliness more subtly and honestly than
Coppolas Charlotte,
who clearly
enjoys her wallowing; the characters in Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Hong Sang Soos
movies have
genuinely
withered hearts, rather than a my withered heart playlist on an iPod. They
are not sentimental,
or
intelligent or impersonating intelligence. They are boring.
Boring to me
at least; every good movie Ive seen about young people in East Asia has been
notable for its
lack of
complex characterization. Personality and motivation are just not the most
important elements of film-
making here.
I think it has something to do with the diligence with which people here avoid
asking why
questions
explicitly; it is considered rude to pursue that dimension of human behavior.
July 16, 2008
To undo some of the
damage this summer has wrought on my English and Japanese, I have of late been
trying to translate a short
novel from the latter into the former. Its by Yoshida Shyuichi, whose stuff
isnt
available in English,
and there is a photo of a balcony on the cover. There was no intention to my
purchase;
I had not heard of the
author before, nor did I understand its simple hiragana title (ひなた) when I bought it.
Aside from the obvious
education it provides, translation is also an interesting conceptual attempt
for
someone who speaks
Japanese so badly and English so well. No matter how little I manage to cull from
the
book (and given my
contempt for online kanji dictionaries, it is fairly little), I can finesse it
into something at
least superficially
consistent. Like a Chuck Close pixilated portrait in which every pixel is
fairly inaccurate, but
makes sense from across
the room.
July 15, 2008
A dispatch rich with
cultural commentary:
The 10th
grader I tutor in English is considering starting Chinese classes this summer,
in addition to
an already absurd lesson
program: my sessions, chemistry, pre-calc, and AP European history. The only
thing giving her pause
is the knowledge that a girl from her middle school would be taking Chinese
classes at the same cram
school, and that this other girl, also a 10th grader, recently had
fairly extensive
plastic surgery
performed on her by her dad. My student is afraid she will be unable to hide
her disgust
when she sees this girl;
I am just afraid she wont have the mental energy for our creative writing
projects
after yet another
unnecessary prep class.
PS. I saw an ad on the
subway for Small Face Plastic Surgery Clinic (Koreans love small faces, hey
Korea
if you love small faces
so much why dont you marry one), another explanation for my unpopularity.
July 14, 2008
So many of my anecdotes come
from early morning flaneuring. Today I was followed by a guy
on a motorbike, until I
turned around and looked at him. He sped off in the other direction only
to show up three blocks
later, confidence renewed. He stopped his bike a few yards ahead of me and
waited; too confused to
turn around, I had to let him observe me as I walked by.
Hey, he said in
Korean, tilting towards me.
Good morning.
Where are you going?
I lied. Going to eat
breakfast.
Breakfast you are
going to eat breakfast? Where are you from?
I lied again. England.
Where are your
parents?
England.
You dont live with
your parents?
I live in Seoul, my
parents live in England. I tried to edge away. He reached out but thought
better than
to make physical
contact.
Hey, how old are you?
I was trapped, and
didnt see the point of being rude.
21.
You know, Im 26. That
makes me your big brother. You should call me big brother.
I finally realized that
he was pretty drunk. Well. I brought both arms up in a mid-jog pose to
indicate
my desire to leave.
So you study Korean?
He could see my politeness waning and reached out his hand again, for a high
five this time. Fine. I
gave him a high five, but with an unpleasant look on my face. So you dont
live with
your parents?
I have to go. Began
walking.
Hey. Hey, call me big
brother.
See you later, big
brother.
July 13, 2008
Miss home so much right
now that anything I write will be about some idea of American summer
(the vulgar delight of New
Yorkers in the heat, or Phil Spector-scored memories of Maine) instead
of Korea.
July 12, 2008
Normal morning
activities. Shuffling down to the 7-Eleven, I spied in my peripheral vision
three
Korean kids, two girls
and a guy. There isnt too much of a distinction between normal and going
out clothes in Korea
because girls always wear heels and guys wear things like, uh, satin vests
and shoulder bags; there
is, though, a huge difference between outside and inside clothing, and
the fact that this trio
was in outside clothing indicated a long night of drinking rather than a quick
run to the convenience
store (I was wearing inside clothing).
The guy, wobbly and
weaving, spotted me and yelled out hello! I nodded and smiled; the girls
apologized for him with
their eye contact and tried to herd him into a restaurant. He wasnt having it;
very pretty! was his
next proclamation. Finally, with one girl at each of his arms, he was dragged
off-stage
amidst giggles and
scolds. Momentarily breaking away, he did a Vaudeville encore, poking his head
around door frame and
gleefully shouting I miss you!
July 11, 2008
I woke up an hour
earlier than usual and entered a twilight zone.
The only equivalent I can
think of for my neighborhood here, Shinchon, is that patch of West
Bleecker Street
colonized by NYU kids and tourists. Wandering around, even at my normal
hour of five, leaves me
among careening morning drunks, wet party detritus, and the occasional
band of stray cats.
Pyramids of vomit dot the sidewalk.
Today, sleepless in the
heat, I headed out at four and found the neighborhood in limbo – early
enough, or late enough,
that people were still eating outside and tugging one another by the hand
from one night club to
the next. In the convenience store I discovered something truly bizarre:
three middle-age ladies
having a picnic on the floor in the back! They had brought the Korean
equivalent of a picnic
blanket (reflective plastic mat), and were noisily enjoying their instant ramen
with no reprobation from
the staff.
July 10, 2008
Living in such close
physical proximity to Japan with so little cultural proximity has driven
me kRaZy this summer. I
am continually amazed by how thoroughly different the two countries
are, with just enough
reminders of Japanese life to keep me confused about Korean life in
comparison. Nowhere is
the difference (or at least the difference as it applies to me) more
evident than in the
Japanese section of a Korean bookstore, where the racks are stocked with
street style magazines,
pocket-sized novels about lonely young women, and endless craft
guides instructing
obsessive nerds like me how to make doll-sized household goods out of clay,
or crochet bonnets, or
collect Kinderegg toys (none of these guides is made up).
At one point or another
in my multitudinous childhood, I attempted all three of those things. On
one hand, I am glad not
to have grown up in Japan, because the implicit approval of such activities
would have encouraged my
fastidiousness to an unhealthy degree. On the other hand, it was
financial constraints
alone that kept me from buying a $17 book about constructing tiny pastries
from felt and beads.
In other news, someone
has stolen my washcloth from the communal drying rack! Inspector Riley
commences investigation
tonight.
July 9, 2008
Went to see this movie after class and
enjoyed it tremendously, on so many levels. Cleverly
made, hysterical in both
senses, and a much-needed reminder of how much I used to know
about philosophy. I have
been proposing various incomplete metaphors for the experience of
speaking Korean poorly
(and increasingly at the expense of my mental acuity), but none do
justice to the
experience. Having Winkensteins graceful rubric superimposed upon a problem
that by definition
resists articulation was, strangely, comforting.
As coda, an appropriate
exchange from The Sun Also Rises:
You understand? I
said.
Yes.
I was sure he didnt, so
it was alright.
July 8, 2008
In Japanese, this
weather is call buggy-hot.
Here is a newvie Jaewon made
about Saturdays blog entry!
July 7, 2008
It appears I have
reached the tipping point of comfort with my Korean: I now
speak it more readily,
though certainly much worse, than Japanese. The Japanese
kids in class who once
marveled at how much better the latter was now allow me to
respond to them in
Korean, so stilted and problematic is my speaking.
My Japanese listening
hasnt suffered in time with my spealing, so to hear and comprehend
so much without the
means to respond is wretched. Like Julien Schnabel disease – as close
to mental incapacitation
as I have ever come!
July 6, 2008
Lazy entry, midterm
tomorrow!
From Stuff Korean People
Like list by me & Jaewon
43. Ajumma
Perm
42.
Demonstrations
41.
Self-help Books
40. Cyworld
39. Fortune
Tellers
July 5, 2008
Korean stores operate on
a principle that baffles and frustrates me. They all
sell exactly the same
thing. The clothing markets offer hundreds of stalls with
identical merchandise, shifting
the objective of shopping from finding something
special to finding it
for the lowest price (and providing women with an outlet for
their aggression,
through nasty haggling).
How does this work?
Wouldnt a store surrounded by its competition be
immediately driven out
of business? According to Jaewon, organizing stores in
districts like this
benefits the district as a whole, since people know where to go when
they need, for example,
lighting equipment or socks.
Which is all to say that
I ended up in the monk apparel district today and did not
know how to choose the
store from which to buy a wide-brimmed monk hat.
