Drink up! (The drinking culture in Asia)

Beer, vodka, soju, sake, whiskey. Whichever your preference, alcohol is a great way to unite people. Drinking has become so widespread that there are customs and cultures based on it.

Drinking cultures vary in each country. If you’re planning to drink in Korea, China, or Japan, here are some tips to get you started on your inebriation.

China

The preferred choice of alcohol there is baijiu. Baijiu is high proof, and because drinking in China has been categorized as masculine, most men tend to drink it. Though there are times when they tend to drink beer or wine, nothing shows your masculinity like baijiu. However, it’s not always about finishing your shot of baijiu before anyone else. There’s an etiquette to drinking when you find yourself sharing drinks with business associates, be mindful of how you behave.



When someone toasts, it is expected of you to finish your cup, or ganbei. When people do toast, be sure to clink your glass against everyone’s. If the person you’re toasting against is your superior, be sure to bring your glass lower than theirs when you clink glasses. But beware, if you clink glasses, it means you want to go bottoms up! If you’re not sure how to work yourself into the Chinese drinking culture, just be sure to use both hands when offering, receiving, or drinking your beverage.

Japan

As most people may have heard, sake is popular in Japan. However, the most popular drink is actually beer. With breweries like Asahi, Kirin, and Sapporo, you’ll see restaurants, bars, and izakayas (Japanese pub) stocked and ready to serve you beer. But if you’re looking for something more traditional, most izakayas are ready to present you with sake, which can be drunk either cold or hot. It may not sound appealing, but certain sakes taste much better when served hot.



If you find yourself sharing drinks with Japanese businessmen, make sure you NEVER pour your own glass. Something to keep in mind is you should always wait for other people to offer you a fill. It is custom in Japan to never leave a glass or cup empty, so if you happen to see someone in need of a refill, offer to pour. Some may refuse to show modesty, but if pressure is applied, most will accept your offer. In turn, they will insist on refilling your glass as well, so be sure to leave your glass full if you don’t plan to drink anymore.

Korea

The most sought out alcoholic beverage in Korea is soju. This traditional Korean drink has sold twice more than any other spirit or liquor worldwide. In Korea, the drink is found almost anywhere – from your local convenience stores to top-notch Korean restaurants. One of the best things about soju is that it’s relatively cheap and it’ll get you buzzed (or heavily intoxicated, depending on your consumption). What’s even more popular than soju is somaek (소맥; soju mixed with beer). The golden ratio (황금 비율) of soju to beer is 3:7. Some will choose to add more or less soju, but you can’t go wrong with 3:7.



Wherever you go to drink, be sure to always toast the first glass or shot and finish it, too. Depending on whom you’re dinking with, you may have to finish your glass every time your counterpart does. In corporate Korea, your superiors will want to keep pouring you drinks and it is considered disrespectful if you don’t empty your glass. Also, be sure to use both hands when either pouring or receiving drinks (especially if the counterpart is your superior).

Despite where you are, if you're out drinking, always be sure to keep the customs of the host country. Being able to blend in with that country's drinking culture will prove more fun and interactive. Just be sure to drink responsibly. Now, drink up!

Christmas... in Korea?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d6oy8IucCMg

Ho ho ho!

Santa and his trusty reindeer land on rooftops, and he shimmies down the chimney to deliver Christmas presents for those on his ‘Nice List.’ Sound familiar?

This is what some of you inevitably expected of Christmas when you were younger and still held onto the notion of a mystical figure who brought gifts on one magical winter holiday of the year. Although you grew up and eventually learned that (SPOILER ALERT!) Santa Claus did not actually exist, you still probably promoted the idea to future generations. Even minus a jolly red-cheeked fat man with gifts, Christmas is still a joyous holiday the world over, all about spreading holiday cheer to family and friends---even as far as Korea!

Yep, you read that correctly. Christmas is celebrated in Korea as well as in many Western countries. Indeed, the Korean notion of Christmas are pretty similar to that found in the West, but with a few tweaks.

Santa Claus exists in the hearts of most young children in Korea as in many other countries. Parents tell their children to behave and be nice if they want Santa, often called Santa haraboji (할아버지; Grandpa Santa) to bring them presents. However, as the children grow older, they discontinue their belief in Santa, and as such, they stop receiving presents. Most children stop getting presents once they become middle school students. In Korea, no strict custom exists for family or friends to give and receive Christmas gifts. No Christmas presents, you ask? Then what about the food? Surely, there shall be a feast to celebrate with the family!

Nope, the only food that is especially popular on Korean Christmas is Christmas cake. Christmas is, after all, the birth of Jesus Christ, and what better way to celebrate his birthday than with a cake? Thus, every year, bakeries try to outdo one another with extravagant cakes. Stroll into any bakery near the holidays and you’ll find the store brimming with Christmas cakes.

[caption id="attachment_1516" align="aligncenter" width="500" class=" "] Korean Christmas cake[/caption]

Most, if not all, churches in Korea welcome anyone and serve food (don’t expect anything too special) and sometimes small gifts around Christmas. Because 25 percent of the Korean population is Christian, many churchgoers, as well as non-Christians, attend Christmas service in church. For those that prefer not to spend the holiday in church, there are other options.

Many people choose to spend Christmas with their family, regardless of how bland the holiday may be. For others, it’s a day to go out drinking and partying with friends. On Christmas Eve and Christmas day, you’ll find most pubs and bars filled to the brim with patrons looking for some holiday ‘spirit.’ In parts of Seoul like Gangnam or Hongdae, you’ll see groups of men and women mixing together, trying to see if they can find love. There’s even a huge event called "solo daecheop (솔로대첩; victory for singles)" on Christmas where single folk come out to find partners. However, for those who already have a significant other, the day is dedicated to enjoying a romantic date. On Christmas Eve and Christmas day, you’ll see many couples walking hand in hand, taking in the sights. Visit any restaurant and most of the tables are occupied with couples. Who knows? You might find a relationship too.

[caption id="attachment_1514" align="aligncenter" width="500" class=" "] Matching singles in Korea during the holidays[/caption]

Those who live in or frequent downtown Seoul know certain districts light up with bright Christmas decorations during December. Most decorations are put up in big shopping districts, or Korea’s many cafes. So if you’re feeling homesick, try hanging out in the booming shopping district 명동 (Myeongdong, Line 4) or Times Square in 영등포 (Yeongdeungpo, Line 1).

[caption id="attachment_3392" align="aligncenter" width="500"] Christmas in Myeongdong[/caption]

There are many ways to spend the Christmas holidays. So if you happen to be an expat in Korea during them, don’t shut yourself in your home, thinking about your past holiday experiences. Go out and take in the sights, meet new people, grab a few (or more) drinks with friends, or if you have family, spend a warm and cheerful holiday with them. Christmas isn’t about where you are; it’s about those with whom you choose to spend it. Merry Christmas!

Thank you! Come again! Ah... Convenience.

[embed]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxwnrR8WbVc[/embed]

We all have generic names for convenience stores – Mini-marts, Kwiki-Marts, Piss-n-Smunch – and quite often we never pay much attention to the actual names. How many convenience store chains in Korea can you name off the top of your head? CU (formerly Family Mart), 7-Eleven, Mini Stop, Buy the Way, GS-25… You can't swing a dead cat in Korea without knocking some Ramen off the shelves of one of these little shops. In fact, the only other industry that occupies as much random street space in Korea would be the many, many, many coffee shops. Quick, how many coffee shop chains can you name in South Korea? Angel in Us, A Twosome Place, Tom N Toms, Holly's Coffee, the ever-present Starbucks… at last count, and depending on whom you ask, there are today around 13,000 coffee shops in South Korea – compared to the 15,000 convenience stores. And both numbers are growing.

Are you taking a bus ride through Seoul today? Try this little game: Sit on opposite sides of the bus from a friend. Each of you gets a point for every coffee shop or convenience store you pass. If you pass a gym on your side, you lose all your coffee shops and/or convenience stores and must start again from 0. Who has the most when you get off the bus?

That game actually sounds kind of lame, doesn't it? Well, fear not – there is a better one. It is called Go-Stop, and you can get a deck of the little plastic cards for this game in any convenience store in Korea. The cards are called Hwatu (화투), and the game is a hoot, once you learn how to play. You can sometimes see older men (ajeossis) playing this game at the little plastic tables set up outside most of these same convenience stores. Often, they are surrounded by empty soju bottles. Do you want a night out that will save you a little money and provide you with an atmosphere conducive to conversation? Then the plastic tables at a convenience store are for you. Sit back, crack a beer (or a makkoli if you really want to save some money), and do some people watching. It is a marvelous way to kill an afternoon. Pick your location wisely, and there's no telling who you may meet. If you get hungry, just grab some snacks off the shelf when you go in to pick up your next drink. Shrimp chips, bag o' squid, assorted fruits and nuts, samgak (triangle) kimbap, ice cream, and those marvelous little sandwiches of questionable content… the banquet is considerable and varies from shop to shop. Forgot to brush your teeth before heading out to slum it at the local GS-25? No problem. They sell travel toothbrush kits for around 2,500 won. Rip your shirt twisting the cap off that last imported beer? Pocket sewing kit, 1,000 won. In fact, you can often find everything you need to survive contained in one street of these remarkable convenience stores.

[caption id="attachment_1477" align="aligncenter" width="228" class=" "] Samgak kimbap and other assorted munchies.[/caption]

Convenience stores in Korea bring in on average 6.2 trillion won (USD$5.8 million) per year for their segment of the total retail market. The biggest of the franchises is Family Mart, which was rebranded in 2012 as CU in order to expand the franchise's business globally under an independent brand. Family Mart was a subsidiary of BGF Retail, a joint venture between Korea's Bo Gwang Group and the Japanese brand, Family Mart. This move was intended to establish CU as an independent retailer rather than just a knock-off of Japanese models, according to BGF Retail Chairman Hong Seok-Jo. The label CU is an abbreviation of the slogan "Convenience for You" but many locations have retained the words "with Family Mart" on displays to maintain customer loyalty.

[caption id="attachment_1479" align="aligncenter" width="271" class=" "] Other assorted convenience store goodies.[/caption]

CU still faces stiff competition from many other established convenience competitors, including GS-25, another leading contender in the convenience store wars in South Korea. GS-25 is run by its parent company, GS Retail, although it was originally under the control of LG. Both GS and LG originate with the older company name, "Lucky Goldstar." 7-Eleven also has a heavy presence in Korea with over 7,000 locations licensed under the Lotte Group. Lotte then acquired the Buy the Way chain of convenience stores and brought them under the 7-Eleven umbrella, although some still retain the Buy the Way name on their signs. Although the shop name is the same as the U.S. stores, products closely associated with U.S. 7-Elevens – namely the Slurpee and the Big Gulp – are not available in the Korean stores.



Whether you choose to plant yourself in the open air outside a CU, a 7-Eleven, a GS-25 or a Mini Stop, each of these convenience stores has a lot to offer, and at very affordable prices. Although many of them carry many of the same items and brands, each one is unique in its own peculiar way, and none of them carry exactly the same items. Some of the most fun you can have in Korea is sitting around a little plastic table outside a convenience store on a busy street. Some may pooh-pooh the idea as "low class" – and it is, to some degree – but in Korean culture, it is considered much, much lower-class to stroll down the street with an open alcoholic beverage in your hand. So take note, wagooks – if you want to drink outside in Korea, you can do far worse than getting comfy outside your local Kwiki-Mart.  No matter what, when it comes to selecting a business, the three key points are always the same: Location, location, location. Some of the best ones are the CU in Haebangchon, a GS-25 located around the corner from subway exit 4 in Apgujeong, and one, the name of which I forget, that is up on the back street in Itaewon, near the Rose and Crown pub (exit 1, fourth alley on the right). There is also a really small one conveniently located across from the park near Hongik University in Hongdae, which is also a marvelous place to socialize outdoors when the weather is nice. If you are tired of the bar scene but would still like a sociable atmosphere and yes, maybe even a light booze buzz, go commandeer a table at a convenience store – but be warned: It is addictive. It is much more comfortable – and convenient – than it looks.

But don’t take my word for it – just ask these folks.

Korean Indie Music Scene: Better than K-Pop

Why is there so much continental rage about K-pop and its flashy arcade sounds? Even here in America… children, students, and adults lust after the K-pop sounds, fashions, and even ‘lifestyle’.  I can’t help but relate K-pop and its major recording artists to those here working under major recording labels in the United States… to me this all spells: mainstream music. Mainstream isn't all that bad, but finding really great music outside of the brainwashing music systems, is like finding gold in a world of cheap dollar stores. This is what listening to indie music is like. And to experience the indie music scene is even better; it’s like tasting the gold.

This all bring me back to my first semester at the University; I had given a presentation on Clear Channel radio and its sub part, iHeartRadio, in front of my first Media and Communications class. I presented on the particular company, their marketing strategies, the positioning of popular artists and bands, the amount of airplay given, and mentioned a few other major record companies. I made it a point to discuss the very many personal issues I had at that time: that it is much more difficult for independent artists to make it into the mainstream music world; that independent artists were much more artistic, brave, and hardworking than those that sang on our everyday radios; that major record labels, and even Clear Channel radio, were trying to regurgitate what independent artists were creating, and then would use and sell it as new major productions for auto-tuned-using artists. Plus, it was so obvious that major recording artists did not have as much creative freedom as the courageous indie artists! Indie music generates future genres and therefore plays a key role in our world’s musical history! I remember feeling so passionate for the independent artists and engineers who didn’t stand much of a chance for the radio or success; for the indie band scene and all the bands that my friends played in. I also remember feeling extremely annoyed and frustrated that the class didn't seem to understand just why and how Clear Channel and other major record label companies were ‘ruining’ the music world.

Well, after four years, I've come to terms that without one, there cannot be the other. Without mainstream music, there would not be room for the independent artists and a fun escape for experimental music lovers. And ultimately, there would not be Korean indie music without K-pop.

I've learned that although independent record labels and artists do not always see as much popularity and radio time as their counterpart, they can sometimes expect more financial success, [but this doesn't mean they are always financially lucrative]. This is because major recording artists spend a lot of money on their royalties. This includes: album artwork and album packaging, tour support, and video production. Because independent artists produce, record, and advertise their music themselves, they have fewer royalties and costs of production. And to me, it makes indie music, from any area around the world, so much more special.

For this article, I was to brush up on Korean indie music and its scene. After a quick but through introduction and a few listening-dates with Korean indie music, I became a hooked K-indie fan. I've spread the word like wildfire about the fun, sometimes sad, but always experimental music. However, even still with today’s technology and social media, not enough people know about Korean indie music or indie music in general for that matter. This has a lot to again with the promotion, positioning, marketing, financial status, and advertising of the artist or band. It is difficult for Americans and other people living in other countries to lend an ear to all of Korea’s booming indie artists as not all of their music is made available to other foreign public. Although there is  a lot of Korean indie music online today, a ton of independent Korean artists do not have their music on worldwide music outlets such as iTunes or YouTube. This makes the Korean indie scene so much more special and fresh… there is still some secret and innocence of it all.

The Korean indie music scene is built of a community of localized indie-music-loving bands and artists. The style of music varies from experimental hip-hop, r&b, soul, electronic, some folk and vintage. The sounds you’ll hear are typically guitars, monophonic synthesizers, minimal bass lines, loose drumming, obscured vocals, distortion or layering of multiple tracks, unconventional sounds, and sometimes brassy wavelengths.

What I found so cool and refreshing about Korean indie music was that I had absolutely no idea what they were saying, but yet completely understood the meaning of the song and could even relate to some. I also really loved that there were so many female artists! Some artists that I really enjoyed were Nell, Taru, Clazziquai Project, Lucite Tokki, and Savina + Drones. Even more, I absolutely loved a lot of the music videos for the songs being played.

Here are some examples:

Clazziquai Project – Can’t Go Own My Own

Nell – Slip Away

Savina + Drones – Stay

Taru - Daydream

Indie Music is Everywhere! Although Korean indie music may be my new favorite, don’t hold yourself back from hearing sounds from independent artists and bands from around the world!

The United States is a hot spot for old and new independent recording artists! From Seattle, Washington to the various cities of New York… Omaha, Nebraska to Austin, Texas… Provo, Utah and Baltimore, Maryland… just to name a small few popular cities that are well-known for their indie music artists and bands.

Japan also has a ton of indie music and recording artists. The area has a very active ‘punk’ indie scene.

Europe is also covered with amazing indie artists and bands. The United Kingdom was in fact the first place to really term what “indie” meant in 1986. And then there is Sweden, Belgium, various indie rock festivals in France and Germany, Spain, the Netherlands, and so, so, so much more.

Australia’s Melbourne takes the win of being the biggest hot spot for indie rock music as it provides the largest music scene than any other city in the world! But you should still check out Australia’s Sydney, Brisbane, and Perth!

 

A few other places to look for Korean indie music (and other various independent artists), is through:

www.koreanindie.com, www.8tracks.com, www.pandora.com, www.youtube.com

Boryeong Mud Festival: Here's mud in your eye

There really isn’t much to say for this event that you can’t already imagine: Just a bunch of people getting down and dirty, writhing around in a whole lot of mud. Why? Because it’s FUN, dammit. When you were a kid, did you ever see a bunch of mud after a rain storm and get a sudden urge to take a running slide into it, head first? But that ol’ kill-joy Mom wouldn’t allow it? Just think of what it would do to your school pants! Well, chances are, Mom isn’t in Boryeong and you have long outgrown your school pants, so get in there and wallow!



The Boryeong Mud Festival is a week-long event that takes place every July in the little town of Boryeong, South Korea, about 140 km (87 mi.) south of Seoul. Boryeong is commonly called Daecheon because that is where beautiful Daecheon Beach is located on the Western (or Yellow) Sea. You can get there from Seoul by bus or by train on the Gyeongbu Line. Which bus? Here is a helpful tip for any foreigner in Korea, if you don’t know it already: Just dial 1330 on your cell phone and ask! And that goes for anything – buses, subways, restaurant locations, movie times…

What was I talking about? Ah, yes – the Mud Festival! It’s a lot of fun. What’s that? Rolling around in big pools of mud with a bunch of strangers aggravates your OCD? Well, consider this: The mud of Boryeong is famous for having wonderfully therapeutic properties. Cosmetics have been produced that use the mud due to its high mineral content. It also contains bentonite, an absorbent aluminum phyllosilicate, and Germanium, a grayish-white metalloid. What does that mean? I have no idea, but it sure is fun to slide around in. The mud is moved from the Boryeong Flats by truck and dumped on Daecheon Beach every year just for this event. There are slides, pools, and various wallows, along with body-painting (using multi-colored mud), volley ball, mud-skiing… well, pretty much anything you can imagine you could do in a big pile of mud. And when you have had your fill of the muddy goodness, just take a stroll into the cleansing surf to wash away every trace of it.



The mud itself is recognizable due to its unique grayish color (must be that Germanium) and when it dries all over your body, well, you just look freaky and it makes for a great Facebook profile picture. Put on a pair of wrap-around shades and you could abduct people in your spaceship – if you are one of the fortunate ones to have a spaceship. Keep in mind, pretty much anything goes at Boryeong, but probing is a no-no, so keep those muddy hands to yourself, or you’ll be put in the mud prison (yes, they have one, but it is purely for amusement purposes). All the while, you can enjoy live music from the stage, which hosts a line-up of bands from Seoul and other places.

The Boryeong Mud Festival – the name says it all. And in case you are more of a visual learner, check out the video from the IDC Crew down below. Mud, mud, mud, mud, mud. What more can I say? Enjoy it. It’s a good time that is good for your skin. And Mom never has to find out.

 

Focus: Boryeong Mud Festival (Korea on the Edge)

[embed]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_qTSuLpl8g[/embed]

A popular attraction in the summer months following the rainy season, the Boryeong Mud Festival has been a yearly tradition since 1998. If you want to attend this incredibly filthy-fun event, don't let the name fool you. The mud is taken from the Boryeong Mud Flats and transported to Daecheon beach, where celebrants roll, dance, slide, sling, and frolic in the therapeutic beauty-enhancing mineral-rich muds. The reputation for the mud's therapeutic effects started in 1996 when cosmetics made from the mud were marketed as being full of minerals that occur naturally in the mud at Boryeong. And then someone got the great idea, "Wouldn't it be nice if we could just roll around in this stuff?" And a legend was born. Now the festival includes all sorts of fun mud-based activities, from mud fights to colored-mud body painting to mudslides and mud- Well, you get the idea: Mud, mud, mud. And when you've had enough, you can just jump into the nearby surf for a quick wash and you're ready to head back to your normal life as a non-mud creature. The festival usually occurs over a two-week period, but the climactic finale is usually held on the second weekend of July and it is a huge draw for the Korean expat population. There are usually several groups of people heading into the Daecheon region at this time, so hitching a ride should be no problem. Or you can just catch a bus at Seoul Express Bus Terminal, or take a direct bus from Incheon to Daecheon Beach. If you want to see more check out the official website. mud's therapeutic effects started in 1996 when cosmetics made from the mud were marketed as being full of minerals that occur naturally in the mud at Boryeong. And then someone got the great idea, "Wouldn't it be nice if we could just roll around in this stuff?" And a legend was born. Now the festival includes all sorts of fun mud-based activities, from mud fights to colored-mud body painting to mudslides and mud ? well, you get the idea: Mud, mud, mud. And when you've had enough, you can just jump into the nearby surf for a quick wash and you're ready to head back to your normal life as a non-mud creature. The festival usually occurs over a two-week period, but the climactic finale is usually held on the second weekend of July and it is a huge draw for the Korean expat population. There are usually several groups of people heading into the Daecheon region at this time, so hitching a ride should be no problem. Or you can just catch a bus at Seoul Express Bus Terminal, or take a direct bus from Incheon to Daecheon Beach.

There will be mud! The Pop-culture quizz

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVnkDkYP9jE

Join Kris as he walks around and asks foreigners living in Korea what they know about Korean culture. If they get the question right, they get a fresh cold beer but if they get it wrong...

Lotus Lantern Festival: What a Long, Strange Parade It Is

When I was a young upstart back in my college days, I was a Deadhead (for the record, I am STILL a Deadhead). What is a Deadhead, you ask? In the correct terminology, a Deadhead is one who is a fan of the music of the band known as the Grateful Dead. I attended eleven Dead Shows back in my youth, and each show was spectacular (some more so than others). What was the draw of the Deadhead community for me? That word itself: Community. Nowhere had I ever experienced a huge group of thousands of strangers all getting along like family. Peace, love, and music were the order of the day. The beliefs of many Deadheads are similar to those of Buddhist traditions, and so I was also attracted to Buddhism. The scene around any stadium headlining the Grateful Dead was surrounded and filled with drums, music, and colorful, kind people.

That sense of community is alive and well in the Heart of Seoul at the Lotus Lantern Festival, which is held every spring to commemorate the birth of Buddha. There really is no better time to be in Seoul as the air is fresh, the temperature is perfect, and the festival is preceded each year by the hanging of colorful lanterns all around the city. Walking around Gwangwhamun, Insadong, and the Cheonggyecheon stream (all centrally located) during the springtime just makes a person happy – at least, it always made me happy. The colorful lanterns strung along the roadways, and the larger lanterns floating in the stream, along with Gyeongbokgung Palace, the statues of Yi Sun Shin and King Sejong, and Jogyesa Temple, one of the most significant Korean Buddhist temples… there is a lot to see in this part of Seoul. And the Lotus Lantern Festival ties it all together just beautifully.

The festival officially begins on April 8^th of the Lunar Calendar, and commences with the traditional lighting of the Jangeumdang at Seoul Plaza. This large lantern symbolizes Buddhism and the enlightenment of the Buddha. The festival features weeks of programs in which anyone can participate on any given day, including cultural performances, traditional dances, foods, and booths for making Buddhist art and your own lotus lantern. And, of course, there is the main event – the large Lotus Lantern Parade that runs from Heunginjimun Gate in Dongdaemun to Jogyesa Temple. This is easily one of the largest parades I have ever seen. It gives the Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City a run for its money. It is preceded by Eoulim Madang (Buddhist Cheer Rally) and culminates with the post-parade celebration in front of Jogyesa Temple (near Bosingak, AKA "the Big Bell", for those of you familiar with Seoul). The festive atmosphere of this celebration draws people from all over the world, and quite a few Korean celebrities make appearances on the big stage as well. Based on my six years of attending this parade, I would say the best place to view it would be on Jongno, near Jonggak subway station on Line 1.

The atmosphere of this parade is peaceful, joyous and vibrant. The music, the drums, the brilliant and colorful lanterns and people, many in traditional dress… it is something to experience. There is just something about wave upon wave of Buddhist monks strolling past you, holding lanterns and smiling, some beating on gourds or drums or bells, mixed with dancers and giant lanterns of stunning colors, as drums and cymbals and other accoutrements ring in the night air, that seems to drive away any and all bad luck or ill vibrations you may have collected over the past year. You can't help but smile and wave at the parade participants as they smile and wave at you.

[caption id="attachment_1413" align="aligncenter" width="994"] Photo courtesy of www.peninsularity.com[/caption]

The lanterns are made of hanji, or hand-made Korean paper, of the most striking colors, and the warm glow of the lights within create a visual marvel with each passing sight. Each elaborate lantern float tells a story, depicting royalty, elephants, tigers, a few fire-breathing dragons and weird peacock-like birds flapping their wings and spreading their resplendent tail feathers to the delight of the crowds of onlookers. Children run down the street, trying to keep up with their favorites, and parents rush to get their cameras ready. As with most parades, the children also get to collect some candy, and the luckier children may even get a lantern or two of their own to take home.

The radiant lantern floats and the myriads of hand-held lanterns in between turn the entire road of Jongno into a seemingly endless river of colored light. You can watch from street level or go up into the buildings for an aerial view from one of the many restaurants and pubs that can be found along the parade route. The parade is long enough that you can explore and enjoy many different vantage points. As you walk down the street – the lights, music and the overall peace of Buddhism all around you – smiles abound. And if you miss a picture of a float going past, don’t worry. They are on display in front of the temple or at the end of the parade route at Jonggak, and you can get some great up-close-and-personal shots.

The magic of the event is palpable. Even as Korea moves closer to its rainy season at this time of the year, for some reason it never rains on this parade. Deadheads would liken this to what we called "Karma Pooling" – the idea that if enough people at a concert wanted to hear a particular song, they just had to sing it in their heads and the Grateful Dead would inevitably play it. Here, at the Lotus Lantern Festival, the collective will of the people combined with the good Karma of the scene keeps the rain at bay.

This will be the first time in six years that I will miss this event, and I have to admit, just thinking about missing it is making me sad. It is just such a beautiful thing to see, and a beautiful time to be in Seoul, and I don’t like feeling far away. So I will wrap up this article with a hope that, if you haven't already, you will get to experience this amazing event at some point.  I will leave you with one final piece of a song by the Grateful Dead:

 

Watch: Video of Lotus Lantern Festival from IDC Crew

 

 

Five Techniques that Make Learning A Foreign Language Significantly Less Impressive

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Up6VuAbykos

“What did you eat for breakfast as a child?” asked a wide-eyed woman from across the conference table.

My friend had just introduced me to her clinical research group as “Kelley from Korea who speaks Chinese, Korean, and French” because she loves nothing more than to engineer awkward moments with strangers just to watch me sweat. The scientists, whom I had expected to react to the unnecessary boast with polite but detached smiles and nods, instead seemed to be more impressed by my various language experiences than by the admission that a white girl named Kelley was a friend “from Korea.”

While this anecdote admittedly tiptoes into dangerous humblebrag territory, it also illustrates what I think is a sorrowfully inaccurate popular perspective that learning a language is a harrowing undertaking reserved for people with oddly wired brains fortified with supervitamins. I certainly won’t knock the necessity of nutrition for proper cognitive function, but I will stress that this cognitive function is something that the grand majority of us possess. Developing proficiency in a foreign tongue, even at a relatively mature age, should not be intimidating for either the learner or those who might praise her: Critical periods of pronunciation development aside, we are “wired” from the start to learn language—which is, after all, a creation entirely of the human brain, and one that most of us have mastered in at least one form already.

While I have been immersed for over a decade and a half in developing and maintaining proficiency in three foreign languages that I began learning relatively late in life—French at eleven, Chinese at seventeen, and Korean at twenty-four—I am not a teacher and thus have no authority to claim any well developed theories on what language-learning strategies might work for most or even many people. I can only look back with limited retrospection and report on what I think has been effective for me, in the hope that my advice might enable or embolden some others to succeed at their own linguistic pursuits.

 

• Fabricate need: Like any pursuit, learning a language is a lot easier given the proper motivation. Unfortuately, unless you have an immediate need to develop spoken and written proficiency in another tongue, it’s difficult to justify putting in not just the time but also the consistent energy and attention it requires. Spend some time in a country where that language is spoken, even if just a semester or a short vacation. Set a deadline to take—and pass—a proficency test. Join a weekend discussion group or set up regular meetings with a language partner for some stimulating social pressure. In short, find out what motivates you and establish a study system that takes advantage of those tendencies.

 

• Prepare to feel stupid: Learning a language requires assimilating a lot of new information—countless vocabulary words composed of phonemes you may never have heard before, various arbitrary rules about how they can and cannot be combined, cultural context behind the potentially strange new concepts they might be used to express. And it’s often difficult to appreciate the subtleties of foreign diction and logic of syntax until you’ve blindly learned, botched, corrected, and re-learned multiple instances of it. So if you’re doing your learning job right and processing your rich inputs with a sizeable number of corresponding outputs, you’re going to make mistakes.And if you spend any part of your language-learning experiences interacting with native speakers (as you should!), your powers of understanding and expression will also inevitably be both over-and underestimated at awkward turns. Be prepared to swallow your pride, both to ask questions when you don’t understand something that your interlocutor assumed you did, as well as to avoid distracting frustration when they repeat or water down a concept that you grasped sufficiently from the start.

 

• Have fun: Have fun, that is, while feeling stupid (see our previous article on drinking in Korea for some ways to practice this art). Deciding to devote the resources needed to master a new language requires passion, and passion is not distilled from punishing goals and strict schedules. Developing passion for a subject means not taking yourself too seriously and not feeling guilty about turning studying into a game. It means spending hours playing classic game ROMs in your target language and staying up later than you should binging on dubbed Pixar movies and foreign dramas. It means reading cheap fiction and comics that you might not normally allow yourself to waste an afternoon on were they in your mother tongue. Because the point is maximizing exposure, and isn’t being able to effortlessly integrate your desired language into the activities you love one of the ultimate goals of learning it in the first place?

 

• Be patient: According to one widely cited but unfortunately apocryphal statistic, “research shows” that mastery of foreign pronunciation alone---one tiny and sometimes even slightly disposable aspect of the multifaceted undertaking of language learning---depends in part on the purely physical development of tiny orofacial muscles that can take months of daily practice to reshape themselves. Even in the event that this particular factoid is just an Internet rumor, it stands to reason that going from mute to conversational, conversational to proficient, proficient to eloquent, and unlettered to literate doesn’t happen overnight. Indeed, the more you begin to parse and understand, the more poignantly you become aware of how far you have to go, making the uphill climb toward a satisfactory skill level a painfully Sisyphean process. Be patient.

 

• But also… don’t wait: Don’t wait to “learn” the language before you start forcing yourself to “use” it; the best way to learn is to use, and developing proficiency only promotes rather than deprecates the learning process.

It’s a little-applied fact that one does not need a large vocabulary to speak a new language with confidence; you just have to learn to creatively apply what you have. Focusing from the start on the most commonly used words is also important for developing efficiency, and one of the best ways to determine what words you need the most is to force yourself to speak and listen to only your target language for an extended period. It wasn’t until I moved to Beijing after two years of college-level Mandarin study that I realized how absurd it was that I could expound with some confidence on the advantages brought by China’s socialist history for the status of women in society but didn’t know the word for “hairbrush.”

You should dive into listening with the same confidence, as you’ll find that the human brain can understand quite a bit even with weak knowledge of verbal components and structure. In the words of social psychologist and Harvard Business School professor Amy Cuddy, “Fake it until you make it”—don’t write off a conversation as incomprehensible simply because it’s in a language you just started to learn or even haven’t learned at all; throw yourself into it with full attention and take note of every scrap of recognizable data—tone, expression, hand signals, loan words—that might be useful to you. At the very least, you’ll find yourself passively absorbing information on intonation and accent that could be useful for later adventures in proper expression.

I decided to take a short vacation in Tokyo following college graduation and use the opportunity to practice Japanese. This was a slightly problematic decision because I did not know Japanese, and even after a few halfhearted glances through survival language books between final exams, I had a paltry vocabulary of fewer than twenty words. I assumed (naturally) that I was just setting myself up for failure.

And yet, feeling the full brunt of Point 2 above, I pressed on anyway, finding to my pleasant surprise that when I challenged myself to use my scant knowledge to ask passerby for directions or order from a menu, I could generally pick up on the interlocutors’ responses: By focusing on gestures and the very few words that I knew (mostly verb particles and place or food names), I could fake a conversation in Japanese—without knowing Japanese.

 

So manipulate yourself into desperation, have fun feeling stupid, and be patient about the inevitably unsatisfactory results of precipitously challenging yourself to use the language you wish to learn. It might sound like a tall order, but just remember that what you’re seeking to master is something that’s already known by countless others, something that the brain is primed to acquire–indeed, something that has been suggested to be important, if not necessary, for some forms of thought itself. So eat whatever you want for breakfast. What's the big deal?

How I (Almost) Became a Korean Pottery Fiend---and Why You Should, Too

This is supposed to be an article about Korean pottery. To be honest, my closest association with traditional Korean pottery was posing for pictures next to the infamous kimchi pots at the entranceway to Haebangcheon, known simply as HBC to the widely diverse expat community that lives there.



In recent times, and largely due to the foreign influence of that tiny area beneath the shadow of Seoul Tower, this neighborhood has become known as the HBC Arts Village to the Korean tourism bureau. Although I frequently encountered these familiar stacks of pots, which have become a landmark to expats in Seoul, I was fortunate enough to visit several of Korea’s museums to see the more elaborate representations of this impressive creative process.

Of all of Korea’s wonderfully innovative artistic endeavors, there is none with a richer history than pottery. It really is exceptional, and if you watch the video, you will see that it is not so easy to create. It’s not like two guys sat down at a pottery wheel and just threw some clay together. Look at that shape; the contours; the edges; the balance. Look at the design and the emotion that… well, OK, maybe not in this video. But the tradition of Korean pottery goes back for centuries, and it is a skill that has been handed down in many forms, and these forms are loosely classified into the styles of the three Korean kingdoms: Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla.

As far back as 57 BC, the people of Korea were forming various types of ceramics in numerous kilns. Mostly they consisted of common-use houseware items, but they also included artistic pieces featuring royal figures, horses, and Haetae.

During the Silla period, pottery was simple in its design, but over the years the potters developed new styles along with new types of glazes. They also developed better types of clay to be used on their potter’s wheels and in their hand-sculpted pieces. Celadon glazes gave a greenish hue to some of the pottery that was greatly prized in many Asian cultures, largely because of the demand by Buddhist traditions. This style of ware is created by adding a bit of iron to the pottery before glazing. During the firing process, the iron interacts with the glaze, giving the finished products a wide range of green-tinted finishes. This color made this type of ceramic one of value because it not only resembled jade, but traditional beliefs held that the ceramic would change color if poison foods touched it, so there was a safety feature involved.

Over the years, different artistic styles developed, new shapes evolved such as the popular gourd-shape, and elaborate motifs featuring animals such as birds, deer, horses, or fish often adorned the pottery. Celadon versions of this style are called cheongja, while pottery made from high-grade white clays, glazed with feldspar, are called Baekja. The popularity of Baekja peaked just before the rise of the Joseon Dynasty.



Goryeo porcelain was usually used for smaller, more stylized ceramic items, such as incense burners or tea cups, and ran the gamut of colors that included shades of brown to almost black. Celadon glazes were used to highlight various changes in the shading of these items, which were often modeled after birds, insects, flowers, and geometric shapes. The influence of Confucianism, however, lent a more simplistic style to Korean ceramics, including a rise in the amount of white porcelain produced.

The Joseon Dynasty produced some of the more spectacular works of pottery and ceramics, and the styles became much more elaborate and colorful, not only in the design but also in the decoration. These were considered the height of the culture, and many art historians today refer to this period as the “Golden Age” of Korean pottery. This is thought to be due to the use of chambered climbing kilns, a few of which can still be seen throughout Korea in traditional folk villages. As a result of new styles, glazes, clays, and kilns, Korean pottery became famous and highly sought-after, particularly in the Busan region. Many quality ceramics found their way to Japan, either through trade or outright theft. Korean pottery was so valued, in fact, that the Japanese were known to actually abduct entire families of potters in order to get their hands on these wares. Who would have guessed the Japanese were such pot-fiends?



Several beautiful examples of the original, traditional Korean-style ceramics are on public display in Korea’s many museums. If you happen to be in town, we highly recommend taking a day or two to visit some of these places to see the many products of this amazing hand-craft for yourself. If your travels will miss the Land of the Morning Calm, you may yet have a chance to view some of these stunning works as the museums often arrange international tours of many of Korea’s cultural artifacts. But take my advice – see them in Korea. It is a place not to be missed.

Sore Throat and Sniffles? No Problem! Try These Korean Cold Remedies

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZM-QLZciJzI

After a year of research and instruction on integrative modern and Korean medicine, two years of mealtime conversations with some very health-conscious Korean friends and acquaintances, and six years of ginseng jelly care packages, if I were asked to summarize my take on the Korean folk remedy approach to colds, my answer would probably be: “Don’t get one.”

No, I’m not confessing a lack of faith in Korean traditional medical perspectives on rhinitis (though that wouldn’t be quite so chauvinistic given that modern medicine is similarly deficient in this department) nor my own ignorance of the subject (which I nonetheless readily admit). Instead, I am attempting to emphasize that indigenous Korean medicine holds dear the traditional Chinese notion that “上医医未病之病, 中医医欲病之病,下医医已病之病,” or “top-rate doctors treat illness as it has yet to occur, middling doctors treat illness as it is about to occur, and low-quality doctors treat illness after it occurs.”

As I described in a previous post on the medical mystique of Korean bathhouses, the various Korean traditional medical theories that have been syncretized from domestic and Chinese sources and passed down through several works of national literature (including the Yibang Yuchui 의방유취/醫方類聚  [1443-1445], one of the most comprehensive syntheses of otherwise unrecorded Chinese medical theory to date; Dongyui Bogam, 동의보감/東醫寶鑑 [1596-1610], a collection of disease symptoms arranged by affected organ system, and 동의수세보원/東醫壽世保元 [1901], the underpinning of Korea’s own four constitution medical theory, which develops a more systematic approach to patient-centered treatment than most lines of TCM) describe the human anatomy as multi-layered fields of energy—not only the well known qi or ki (기/氣) but also essence jeong (정/精), spirit shin (신/紳), and blood (혈/血)—in constant flux among various organs and the external environment. And while not even the most hard-line of Korean medical traditionalists would argue that a cold is induced by energy field imbalance in the absence of a little something called germs, Korean medical tradition does seem to contain some lines of thought that one’s daily habits have a large hand in whether external insults like rhinovirus—which fall within the traditional concept of bad qi (사기/邪氣)—will be handled properly by the body’s natural defenses—also called proper qi (정기/正氣)—or allowed to bloom into nasal waterfalls and scorching throats. For example, it is thought that weakened defenses might be precipitated by a sudden drop in temperature, either due to change to a colder season or even rapid jump in indoor air conditioning use from spring to summer; the chronic stress of an academic lifestyle; or being a small child whose immune system is yet to be fully developed [1].

Okay, right. So in an ideal world the Korean traditional medical establishment (and the continuously changing streams of loosely related folk remedies that serve as both source and outlet) successfully collaborates with 100% compliant patients to develop personalized strategies for halting all manner of infectious disease in its tracks faster than you can say “H1N1.” But no amount of pontification over a meridian map will console the poor sniveling sap who doesn’t finish her dinnertime kimchi and insists on galloping around polar vortex Gangnam in a miniskirt. What, then, to those less-than-vigilant patients for whom a conscious diet, frequent spa visits, daily morning qigong, and a commitment to a stable inner life is already too late?

• Stewed pear (배찜): A favorite dish in both northern China and Korea for cold prevention as summer turns to autumn, this simple stew is made by boiling a clean Nashi pear (also known as “Asian pear” or just “pear,” depending on who you ask) with some honey and red dates until the solid ingredients are soft and the water reduces into a thick nectar. The honey provides some relief for a sore throat, and the pear, considered in traditional medicine to be of slightly wet constitution, is thought to supplement fluids lost to illness.


• Honey water (꿀물): A remedy similar to one with which many non-Koreans may also be familiar if they’ve ever coated a painful throat with a spoonful of honey. This is also a nice snack found in the hot beverage counter at many convenience stores.


• Spicy bean sprout soup (매운 콩나물국): Perhaps not the first choice of those suffering from a sensitive larynx, the red pepper powder in this soup is nonetheless great for providing temporary relief from congested sinuses.


• Ginger tea (생강차): This sweet and slightly spicy tea is a much more appealing way than straight water to maintain much-needed fluid intake to loosen annoying mucus deposits, and the ginger provides a nice kick to the nasal passages.


• Toxin release by sweating: Dip your feet into some warm water, take a long shower, engage in light exercise, and support your immune system by stimulating circulation and sweating out the poison. Just don’t be rude and take your viruses to a public jjimjilbang.


• Appetite stimulation: In some cases, a cold is accompanied by a loss of appetite, under which condition it is thought that replenishing the body’s heat with foods of “warm” constitution—ginseng (인삼/人蔘), huanggi (황기/黃芪), and changchul (창출/창출) root—will enhance digestive function. [1]

Armed with a taste of some folk Korean medical knowledge, dear readers, you are now equipped to tackle the final frigid days of winter, endless examinations of spring semester, and sudden onslaught of summer air conditioning with some time-tested weapons of battle with rhinitis. Feel free to add to the armamentarium by posting your own personal remedies in the comments below!

 

Fifty shades of Gay.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FqoMomj3QtE

50 Shades of Gay: Perspectives of Gay Korea

A Tale of Two Emotions

“You’ve never been to West Hollywood’s Pride, but you’re from LA?” James asked incredulously, almost as if there were no possible way. “Yeah,” I explained equally shocked, but was then quickly distracted by an incredibly sweaty and muscular duo in matching hipster summer tanks. We continued wandering in the plaza looking at the parade and trying to seek refuge from the sun. It then dawned on me; I only participated in gay events here in Korea. I’ve always been politically active, so much so that I staged a one man protest in high school. Yet, despite being so outspoken on many things, I was in the closet back in the United States.  Maybe it’s because I’m older now? “What about you?” I figured that I would flip the question around. “Yeah it’s my first pride,” my friend said in between sips of now Luke-warm Cass. Possibly Korea, had something to do with wanting to become politically active or at least show solidarity in the fight towards equality.

Korea officially has no laws against homosexuality. While many Western progressives cheer at this, the reason is actually pretty hurtful. Korean culture does not believe such acts would exist on the peninsula. So the rationale is, why legislate on something that would never happen? Thus attitudes, as surmised by a Korean friend of mine, are somewhat prevalent.   “Bummy, that’s way too much money to spend on your girlfriend,” I downed my drink while thinking about the staggering price he stated for a romantic getaway. “Well, how much would you pay for your girlfriend?” He stated. Fair point, I thought.  “Not 900,000 won ($850) a night.” Soon a few other friends joined into the conversation. Jokes about prostitutes, nuns, and cucumbers abound.  Then, as if some divine edict of comedy actually exists, the obligatory gay joke. “Okay, let’s say that a guy paid you 900,000 won ($850) instead of you paying for a room. Would you do it?” I looked at Myra and looked at Bummy. A plastic smile was hiding the intense anxiety of how he would respond to Myra’s seemingly innocuous question. “I don’t understand.”  I knew what that meant; it meant that he did understand the words, but not the concept. “Would you sleep with a man for 900,000 won ($850)? Doesn’t have to be sex, but a blowjob or you know, messing around?” “Fuck no. I don’t like the gays.” The plastic smile I wore intensified into more of a Kevlar protected shield to try to cover any insecurities and insinuations about me.  I expected the response ‘I’m not gay’, or ‘I’d never do that with a guy.’ However, I didn’t expect the level of vitrol that he had. I am gay. Thus, he doesn’t like me. Myra looked at me smiling awkwardly desperately wanting the conversation to go back to its debauched joviality. A few months later, as I came out to him, he made me choose between him and my boyfriend. Well, I choose the later. Thankfully, I don’t  often have to make a choice between my friends or my boyfriend.

It is important to note that attitudes are changing. A recent Pew survey showed 71% of Koreans aged 18-29 believed that homosexuality is not wrong. This contrasts with 16% of Koreans 50 and up. Currently 25% of Koreans support gay marriage, while 67% of Koreans oppose it. 8% do not know¹. Obviously, the majority of my peers would be accepting and tolerant.  Things are definitely changing for the better in this regard.

“I envy you!” It’s funny how often that word is used. “Why? I mean you make more than me, travel more.” Yeah, there was a twinge of jealousy in my voice as looked around the stark and utilitarian space otherwise known as my kitchen. “You and Andy have not fought” Hyung Min looked a little dejected as slumped into a worn dining room chair. We continued eating pizza and drinking beer in my humid apartment. “Of course we have. He cheated on Call of Duty once,” I said this in all seriousness, which prompted me to look around my apartment. A skateboard, PS3 and X-Box, a beer pong table. Well, you can take the man out of the fraternity, but not the fraternity out of the man. Hyung Min wryly smiled. “Amanda and I… I don’t know.” What was odd was that it was one of the few moments that I shared with a straight person talking about relationships on an equal level.  Andy and I were not a sideshow, but rather people in a relationship. It transcended cultures as well as sexuality. However, unfortunately, such solidarity and support is not always found in homosexual Korea. Especially when dating.

Two Gays, Another Gay, and a Coffee Shop

 It would be a lie to say that I was sober at 5am on Sunday. Well, not so much a lie as an exaggeration of the truth. Regardless, I ran into James and his friend Tom. They both stumbled out onto the street as bleary eyed as I was. “Going to the Hill?” Aw, the obligatory question of every homosexual in Seoul. “It’s 5am. I’m going home. I’ll see you at noo-make it 1pm,” I said trying to hail a taxi with little success. At this point the other group of guys that I was originally with was more enthralled at street vendors selling shawarmas than the barrage of women exiting the bars and clubs. Personally there is something a little sad when a guy, or girl, has hopes of finding another person and ends up buying a burger instead. Dejected, they entered the cab after not finding their proverbial Cinderella, if only for just one night.

In Korea dating is hard. Competition is stiff for heterosexuals who are not only expected to maintain a high beauty and income standards as well as fulfill the wishes of both significant other and their family. Currently the largest market for male cosmetics in the world is in Korea, in terms of per capita usage. Thus, men are feeling the proverbial heat just like the women.  Just as important as beauty are income and societal ideals. The pressure to get married propelled Korea to have the second highest rate of marriage in the OECD². Mate selection, however, has driven the median age of marriage to roughly 30 years old, about 3 years older than the OECD average. Much of this is due to the high cost of living in Seoul as well as ever increasing university fees which is causing a rise in debt. The takeaway is that it’s hard and stiff in Korea for heterosexual males to get hard and stiff regularly.

It’s just as “hard” and “stiff” for homosexuals too. Legally, gay marriage is not allowed. Ceremonies are performed, but much to the ire of the general public. The first publically performed gay marriage ceremony (non-legally recognized) in 2013³ was met with more consternation than ecstasy. In terms of dating, the level of conservatism creates a maelstrom of emotions and misunderstandings with, albeit, sometimes hilarious and awkward consequences.

“He just tongue darted in and out my mouth and squeezed my junk,” James said in between sips of his latte. I met them both promptly at 1pm in Gangnam later the same day. “I’m like does that seem like it would feel good?’” I didn’t know how to respond. Not to brag, but I feel really happy my sex life is less like the blooper reel of “Freaks and Geeks” and more like the director’s cut of “Queer as Folk”. About 10 minutes later, after eating an overpriced sandwich, I asked whether or not his parents knew that their son was having sex with James since James would stay the night. “No. I mean they thought it was normal that we took showers together, slept together. Dude, It’s Korea.” I guess in the West, the equivalent would be wrestling half naked with your bros. Nothing sexual, but genuine male bonding before marriage. What then occurs, according to Tim is that “(Gay) Koreans are quick to love.”

That was one common complaint I heard over and over. Personally, as a romantic, I find it endearing. The idea of waiting in the rain for your love, and then proposing to them in a grand gesture, appeals to me. However, hearing other perspectives of how after one or two dates, baby names and country selection debates become the topics du jour paints a picture of how juxtaposed Korean gay culture is. On the hand, it’s liberal and taboo with Homo Hill best described as a “Hot Mess” according to Tim. On the other, exhaustive and quick planning to such an extent that even the psycho girlfriend meme could not capture the awkwardness and eccentricities that exist in gay dating in Korea. Much of this does go with the cultural expectation of love and marriage. Gay males in Korea are still socialized as Korean, thus it would only seem natural that the same mate selection pressures would apply to a certain extent. However, since gay marriage is illegal, what occurs is something akin to America in the 1970s-1980s, the gay party scene, which is a stereotype rooted in some aspects of reality.

I left the sandwich shop about 20,000 won lighter and not as full as I would have liked. As my wine hangover with hitting its zenith, I decided to follow up with Su Min to see if he finished the survey.

Lovers in a Dangerous Time: Gay and Korean

            I first met Su Min when I was seeing John. John is extremely attractive. He doesn’t seem to think so, but any guy with six pack abs, a strong chest, and a cute smile generally qualifies as attractive. Being new to Korea and to the gay scene, I fell for him. The problem was that Su Min, fell more for John than I had. An awkward friendship arose with the occasional sexual escapade.

Staying at Su Min’s house was initially like living in a SoHo loft with Artists coming in and out at all hours of the day and night. The stark walls and floors added to the minimalist bohemian feel. Not to sound overly cliché, or to use too many word play devices, but I did see the depths of Seoul’s soul while staying there. It was there I asked what Su Min wanted from his family. He had no plans to tell them. In fact, he considers that his greatest challenge of being gay. After 7 years of coming out only to close friends, I found it odd that he wasn’t out to his parents. I mean didn’t his parents ever wonder why a talented, attractive young singer never mentioned a girlfriend?

With that I could empathize. I accidently came out to my very Ivorian mom on April 1^st. I should qualify that the accident wasn’t coming out; it was the terrible date selection. I’m not good with time zones. I digress. Yeah, I grew up in California, but I always have a part of me that remains rooted in Africa.  In some strange sense of solidarity, being gay in a conservative culture, I maintained contact even after awkward sexual encounters and bits of jealousy.

While for him the greatest challenge about being gay is adhering to what is expected of him in Korea and not telling his parents, things are changing. Another friend of mine, Don, mentioned about a high school girl that was openly gay at the place where he used to work. You could attribute it to personal strength, however, the statistics corroborate with the notion that indeed the times are a changin’.

Letters of Love and Hope: The Future and Beyond

            Currently, as I’m typing, I’m staring at my own fears of moving back to the US. The air conditioning is fanning the insecurities and irrational fears I have concerning the future. Torrential downpours serve as a tangible symbol of the inner emotions I’m repressing regarding leaving Korea. However, with that, as my friend said “The past is of no significance.” This isn’t to say that we don’t stand on the shoulders of giants, but rather we should look towards the future instead of rely on conventions and situations that no longer pertain to the current.

The first gay film festival in Korea was held in 1997 with considerable outrage. Local officials threatened to cut the electricity and tried to thwart the event the following year. Despite such efforts, the festival and ensuing parade survived and, well, thrived. In 2000, there were 50 participants. In 2009, there were over 1,500 participants in the parade and festival⁴. This is not to call Seoul the next San Francisco or Amsterdam, but it demonstrates that just the extent of how homosexuality is changing and is gaining more acceptance in part by challenging archaic beliefs. Yes on a macro-societal level, that’s great and all, but what does this all mean regarding what people want for their personal futures?

When I first started this article, one of questions I asked was where do you see yourself in 5 years. The overwhelming response was married and with a family. One such answer seemed almost as if it were a liberal lesbian interpretation of Rockwell’s America. She wrote that she wanted a small farm, children, and her wife. As I prepare my own adventure across the Pacific, I realize that’s what we all want. Okay, maybe not small farm or, in my case, a wife, but a very simple and comfortable life. A life that is free from reproach and castigation, but a life ebullient and brilliant that elevates the most morose of souls. We should follow the advice of Quintus Horatius Flaccus as to seize the day and look towards the future regardless of what it holds. I guess in more succinct and contemporary terms, YOLO. It’s time, the future is not only mine, but yours too, let’s seize it together.

Sources:

1. Pew Research. The Global Divide on Homosexuality: Greater Acceptance in more Secular

and Affluent Societies. Washington DC: Pew  Research, 2013.

1. OECD. Family Database. Paris: 2012.


2. Kim, Christine. “Gay South Korean film director to marry in bid to pry open closet.” Reuters.           15 May 2013.


3. Kelley, Matt. From 50 to 1,500: “Korea Queer Culture Festival turns 10.” Fridae.

15 June 2009.

Five Traditional Characteristics of Modern Korean Apartments

[embed]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KC_ok04NqDQ[/embed]

Korean architectural tradition is dead, a fact to which any modern Korean city like Seoul will attest. Homogeneous growths of board-approved steel and concrete stretch high into the urban smog over a landscape where once-widespread wooden temples, pavilions, and courtyard dwellings have either been razed completely or herded into museum-like national parks and restored under the veneer of cultural tourism. The hanok (한옥), a century ago the mainstay of Korean private architecture and primary form of multi-generational family home structure, has been relegated to the dusty pages of history, its versatile multi-structure, open-air design; attractive tiled roofs; and economical insulation systems never to venture again beyond the walls of publicly funded educational attractions and UNESCO World Heritage sites.

Or has it?

Not so fast. Here are just five ways that Korean traditional architecture, despite being beleaguered on all sides by international engagement and the design influences that inevitably follow, has not yet gone gently into that good night.

1. The Vestibule 

In my experience, the entrance of most (I’d say “all” if the term didn’t make my science bone hurt) Korean residences (as well as many restaurants, private schoolrooms, and some offices) begin with a depressed vestibule in which one is expected to remove her or his shoes before stepping up about ten centimeters to the main floor. While not quite the 기단 (基壇) that kept rainwater out of a traditional Korean house [1], the slight difference in intent behind this unique design feature might be forgiven in a twenty-sixth-floor apartment.

2. The Veranda

Most Korean apartments have one or more screened-in verandas, usually attached to or near the kitchen. A characteristic not seen so consistently in their foreign counterparts, they are generally too large and built in to be considered a balcony, but also not large enough to be considered a proper room. As they tend to be more well lit and exposed to external temperatures than the rest of the house, they provide a handy place for storing foods in the winter—-apples, onions, sweet potatoes—-or drying them in the summer—-persimmons, peppers. They also serve as a favored spot for hanging laundry or even keeping the washing machine, which might otherwise be in the kitchen or bathroom. In a traditional house, these purposes of the veranda might be better served by one of the many porch-like maru (마루) surrounding the traditional hanok, or just the outdoor courtyard itself.

3. The Anbang

What many English speakers might call the “master bedroom” is still called the “anbang (안방),” or “inner room,” in Korean apartments today. The holdover of this traditional term to describe a home’s largest bedroom—usually for a couple—is somewhat perplexing, as used in the context of a hanok it refers to an often separate structure used exclusively by the woman (alpha female, if you will) of the house.

4. The Underfloor Ondol System

Ah, my favorite aspect of Korean apartment life. The typical Korean ondol (heating) system is a glorious setup in which steam-generated heat radiates from the floor in a soft glow of delicious warmth that layers a new dimension of luxury onto the winter afternoon catnap. Despite providing seemingly more advanced results than the American approach of pumping dry, smelly air into the house until it’s sweltering hot, this form of temperature control can be traced back to the Goryeo (고려) period (932-1392) [2]. Historically, however, the concept of heated floors hasn’t been limited to Korean architecture, as a similar “hypocaust” (literally, “under burnt”) system was also used by the ancient Romans [3] [4]. Western comrades, where did we go wrong?

5. Layered Sliding Windows and Doors

One thing that I haven’t been able to get used to in the Korean apartment is the ubiquity of sliding, often floor-length, windows and doors, which harken back to the days when entire walls were made of paper and could slide away to open a house to good weather. Where many American windows open on hinges, most Korean ones seem to be on sliders. And where American houses might use blinds or drapes to obscure the inside from out, some Korean apartments use an extra layer—sometimes even two—of frosted windows or doors, something that I have never seen anywhere else. Add that to another layer of just screens, and you can see why opening up a room for some fresh air might sometimes be a challenge of almost comical brain-teaser proportions.

Despite this scattering of features that make even the modern apartments here uniquely Korean, it is an undeniable fact that the traditional architecture is on the way out as people increasingly make their homes in densely packed cities (see our feature on Korean apartment life for a taste of just how packed they get). Luckily, Korea has some great resources for keeping its history alive. To read more about Korean traditional architecture, check out the excellent introduction on Korea’s official tourism website here [5]. And to explore some structures yourself, take a trip to one of Korea’s many traditional villages, including Bukchon Hanok Village [6], Namsangol Hanok Village [7], and the Korean Folk Village in Yongin [8] outside of Seoul, or Hahoe and Yangdong Villages in Andong and Gyeongju, respectively [9].

Soccer + Tennis = What? Korea's Insane National Sport

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTS0_zBUO5s

I have to admit that when I was asked to write an article about a Korean game called jokgu (족구/足球), I was a bit less than enthused. Vague images of hanbok-clad adolescents playing yutnori (윳노리) against their will on Lunar New Year’s Day (설날) drifting through my thoroughly uninterested brain, I reasoned (badly) that that it was probably just some game with sticks and tiles played by crowds of smoking ajusshi on Sunday afternoons in the park.

“It’s a cross between soccer and tennis,” our videographer informed me, as though that somehow made it exciting. Instead, I was just perplexed. How could hitting soccer balls with tennis rackets be fun?

“It was developed in the military," a close friend, who goes by the name of Wikipedia, added. Ah, yes. Cue the tobacco-scented ajusshi. I was getting nowhere.

Desperate, I turned to YouTube for some visual prompting. And my world screeched to a halt as I found myself watching clips that looked like a Shaolin Soccer remake directed by Michael Bay on a boxed gift set of Bacchus. A bunch of well-muscled guys leaping around a tennis court, Chuck Norrising the daylights out of a hapless soccer ball at speeds that would give any introductory student of Lorentz transformations a headache. Sending it off the shin as a straight volley into an opponent’s chest. Tearing across the full length of the court to leap valiantly through the air and defend from the forehead. Twisting around last-second to roundhouse from a teammate’s lob. Roundhouse. As I sat there, mouth agape, slouched in my own inadequacy and a little bit of drool, my sobbing mind’s eye slowly focused onto a single question: Why did I not know about this before?

Why did our Korean textbooks at the Yonsei KLI spend chapters brainwashing its students with useless ideas like “traditional Korean cuisine is very complicated to make” instead of “Koreans dreamed up a sport that makes ice hockey look like it was invented by your grandmother”? Why do a large contingent of Seoul’s more active expats spend cozy weekends prancing around old soccer fields with Discrafts instead of kicking each other in the face with a nine-inch plastic ball like real athletes? Why did millions of people gather round their television sets last weekend to get drunk around clips of padded men wrestling clumsily for a giant squishy almond instead of fire-eyed athletic warriors turning speed aerials around a far more reasonably shaped toy?

I don’t know. But I do know that this issue must be rectified. So watch our video and weep with inspiration. Then brush up with our simple starter set of jokgu rules:

1. The game is played on a tennis court (6.5 meters x15 meters), with 3 meters at both ends for serving. The net height is to be set at 1.05 meters.


2. Each team has four players on the court at any one time. Teams may have up to three additional players plus a team director on the bench. The team director may not enter the court.


3. Positions and rotation schedules are determined by the team’s own strategy.


4. The object of the game is, like volleyball, to send the ball to the floor of the opponent’s court.


5. Each play begins with a serve. The same team may serve continuously until the other team wins a point.


6. Three touches allowed per side before the ball must be sent to the opponent.


7. The best part: The ball may be contacted with only the feet, shins, or head. Hopefully your own.


8. Games are played to 15 points each; 3 games to a match. The first team to two wins is victorious. [1]

Finally, grab some friends and go out to kick some balls. Just make sure they’re the right ones.

Fermented Plums, Pine Needles, and Mugwort: Strange and Innovative Korean Teas

http://youtu.be/LreK41UmxaM

“Don’t you want to see what’s inside?”

I reluctantly tore my eyes from my problem set and glanced over at my boyfriend. He was looming in the doorway of our dormitory over a cardboard shipping box that came up to his knees. “My mom sent it to me today.”

“From California?”

“Korea.”

I pushed my chair back and swiveled toward him. This promised to be more interesting than debugging my seg-faulting homework. My boyfriend’s mother, whom I had met but once earlier that year in 2008 while she tore about in a whirlwind of plastic furniture and yellowed school papers helping pack up her son's room at the end of the last semester, tended to spare no effort when it came to her care packages. She had once sent us an entire box of Korea’s famed red ginseng (홍삼/紅蔘): red ginseng jellies, ginseng hard lozenges, ginseng tea, honeyed ginseng root, red ginseng pills and powders for digestion. And some green tea. Our room had smelled like a corner pharmacy in Flushing for weeks afterward.

“Cookies. Rice cakes. Mmm, laver. Oh! Instant rice. You should try it with the laver; it’s very nice.“ He had already torn open the box and begun stacking its contents around him. “Here, open this tea.” He tossed me an expensive-looking paper box decorated with hangeul script over a delicate patterned background. I opened it to see a plastic bag of what looked like shriveled juniper berries inside.

I had been to China a few times, arguing pennies over paper bags of chrysanthemum buds and jasmine leaves from alleyway huts in Shanghai. “This isn’t tea.” My voice glowed with the authority of Real Experience. “It’s just a box of dried-up… what is it?”

Hongsuk stared at me, the freckled Midwestern suburbanite whose first sixteen years of travel experience had been limited to cheese factories in Wisconsin and Mennonite colonies in southern Indiana. I averted my eyes into the ten-pound pile of dried laver, yakgwa, and rice cookies at his feet. It was possible that he might know more about Korean food than I.

“It’s… mmm…” he thought for a moment and glanced at the label. “Oh yeah, it’s gugijacha. Like… berries.”

“Berries? You people,” I said in mock contempt, “turn everything into tea.”

“Yep,” he said happily, diving back into the goodies.

“Turning everything into tea” is hardly a characteristic special to Korean culture—South African Rooibos tea, Alaskan spruce-tip tea, Spanish garlic tea, and more all stand as testament to human ingenuity and versatility the world over—but it is hard not to get overwhelmed by the sheer variety of the teas traditionally made by Koreans. Just to give a taste (har har), here’s a brief list of some of the different delicious edibles one might find peeking out from traditional Korean tea:

• Mulberry leaf tea (뽕잎차): I drank this nearly every day for a whole summer while preparing graduate school applications and found it to be a quite worthy substitute for coffee as, when brewed strong, it has a dark, woodsy taste with an almost chocolate finish.


• Brown rice tea (현미차)


• Barley tea (보리차): Incidentally served at nearly every Korean restaurant I’ve visited in China. Strangely not as ubiquitous in Seoul.


• Corn tea (옥수수차): The corn used in this tea is roasted first, which would explain why it tastes more like barley tea than the starchy on-the-cob stuff to which many might be habituated.


• Solomon’s seal tea (둥굴레차): Dried root of Solomon’s seal, a flowering plant found across Asia. Tastes slightly less exotic than it sounds—or at least it does when brewed from the free teabags in my lab. I liken it to a somewhat more pungent brown rice tea.


• Buckwheat tea (메밀차)


• Pine needle tea (솔잎차): YES. Except… just don’t try making it from your neighbor’s discarded Christmas tree. Not speaking from experience. I swear.


• Chrysanthemum tea (국화차): Also popular in China, where it is sometimes served with rock sugar.


• Persimmon leaf tea (감잎차): I once ordered this at a teahouse in Insadong somehow expecting that because it was made with persimmon leaves it would be sweet. It was, of course, not. The person with me had somewhat more intelligently ordered a steaming cup of fragrant red date tea. Do not make my mistake.


• Goji berry tea (구기자차/枸杞子茶): Boiled goji berries, sometimes with honey or sugar.


• Job’s tears tea (율무차): More like a thick porridge than a tea; made with the grounds of the grain Job’s tears mixed with milk, honey, and sometimes other ingredients like walnuts, almonds, and pine nuts.


• Ginger tea (생각차/生薑茶): Ginger root boiled with brown sugar or honey.


• Citron tea (유자차/柚子茶): Citron peels boiled with honey. Don’t try to apply this principle to grapefruits. Citrons are not grapefruits. Citrons boiled with honey turn into delicious citron tea. Grapefruits boiled with honey turn into citrusy vomit.


• Plum tea (매실차/梅實茶): Fermented plums and lots of sugar. Not to be confused with plum wine.


• Chinese bitter orange tea (탱자차/橙子茶): Fermented trifoliate orange with sugar.


• Quince tea (모과차/木瓜茶): Fermented quinces and sugar.


• Omija tea (오미자차/五味子茶): Fermented omija (“five taste berries”) and lots of sugar. One of the most delicious tastes (or five) that will ever grace your tongue. Waiting endless months for this stuff to ferment is unadulterated anguish, but store-bought omija tea is no comparison to the homemade deal.


• Sungnyung (숭늉): After-dinner drink made by pouring boiling water over nurungji (누룽지), the crisp rice that sticks to the bottom of the pot after a meal.


• Sujeonggwa (수정과): Cinnamon, ginger, persimmons, and pine nuts served cold with sugar or honey.

For a more complete and pretty awesome list of Korean teas, see [1].

The above enumeration is staggering, but it doesn’t even mention the so-called medicinal teas brewed to putatively treat various ailments rather than just tickle the tastebuds. This list exhibits some overlap with the above but also includes:

• Danggui tea (당귀차/當歸茶): A ubiquitous herbal brew made from the dried root of Angelica sinensis. Contains a number of phytochemicals that have supposedly inhibited the growth and proliferation of various cancer cells in culture. I don’t know about its anti-cancer properties, but at least one of its components (decursinol) has consistently demonstrated a marked sedative effect in mice [2].


• Ginseng tea (인삼차/人蔘茶): Another ubiquitous herbal tea that supposedly treats a wide range of ailments from to insulin intolerance and impotence and, of course, (reportedly) slows aging and reduces cancer risk. Support for such claims by high-quality clinical trials is inconsistent [3] but perhaps bear further research. Can be purchased in pouches as a bitter extract or made oneself by boiling ginseng with honey or sugar. Yum.


• Mugwort tea (쑥꽃차): Limited evidence that it may stall growth and proliferation of cancer cells, at least in vitro. Has some cool effects on hippocampal slice culture electrophysiology in chronically treated rats. Tastes bitter. But as the Chinese say, 苦药利病: Bitter medicine is good for (treating) sickness. Or just making you feel less bad about the six cups of sujeonggwa you just drank.

…and more. Far, far more.

If it’s a particularly lucky day, a visitor to Korea might also get a taste of some very special tea handed out by local church ajumma attempting to entice new visitors into their services, as they tend to do at odd hours outside my apartment complex. Brewed with cinnamon, ginger, red dates, and a lot of guilt, this uniquely Korean tea, like many of the others mentioned here, is difficult to find anywhere but here.

Unless, of course, you ask a nice Korean mother to send you a care package.

Non-Linked References

[2] Swanberg, K. (2013). Unpublished data. I’ve always wanted to say that.

Illegal Tutoring, Millionaire Instructors, and Bad Reputations: The Real Cost of Korean Hagwons

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1KrY0LZGN2s

Whether you’re a domestic or foreign resident of Korea, chances are the word “hagwon (학원/學院)” carries with it some emotionally laden connotations. According to the “Laws Regarding the Institution and Management of Hagwon and Extracurricular Education in the Republic of Korea (대한민국 학원의 설립·운영 및 과외교습에 관한 법률),” a hagwon is any private organization offering courses that run on a schedule longer than thirty days [1]. Sounds innocuous, right? Perhaps its common English moniker “cram school,” then, might be a better indication of the terrors that lie curled up and waiting in the deep recesses of the concept.

Hagwons offer a wide range of courses for both children and adults, though nearly half of them reportedly constitute prep classes for the fearsome national school entrance exams [2]. At a hagwon one might study ahead in standard public education subjects like math, science, history, or literature; get an edge or just enrich one’s intellectual life with subjects like foreign languages, Chinese characters (한자/漢字/hanja), studio art, and both Korean and foreign musical instruments; or even learn practical skills like dance, martial arts, investing, cooking, Microsoft office, computer operating systems, driving, and more. This variety of classes may seem staggering, but it is hardly surprising given that there exist an estimated 70,000 hagwons in the country today [1].

Many hagwon courses are structured around one or more standardized tests, lending the classes both an urgency and legitimacy sometimes not found in such extracurricular pursuits. Perhaps because of the high value placed on test scores as a component of one’s specifications or “스팩 (spec),” studying for a test appears to be considered by many young Korean adults as a valid lifestyle alternative to enrolling in graduate school or getting a job, at least temporarily. Indeed, in the last two years I have witnessed at least five Korean friends, sick of the thankless overwork and complicated social dramas of Korean workaday life, all but retire themselves from society save for attendance at one or two hagwon courses under the perfectly legitimate guise of “preparing for a test” (one of them ultimately fled to Europe once even the social cachet of this front had been expended after the proverbial test had been taken).

The modern prevalance of private academies has not been a constant staple across even twentieth-century South Korean history. Private academies have been around since at least the late 1800s, but commercialized education has, since then, not been without some social and governmental backlash. In the nineteen-eighties, for example, President Chun Doo Hwan (전두환/全斗煥) made efforts to outlaw private extracurricular academics entirely, a policy that held into the nineties [3]. But even after the subsequent comeback of hagwons, making headlines into the twenty-first century Lee Myung-bak (이명박/李明博) administration were lobbying attempts to level the playing field by introducing policies curbing the academic market’s rapidly bifurcating price brackets, marked by a polarization that 76% of survey respondents called “too extreme” [4]. And even now the Park Geun-hye (박근혜/朴槿惠) administration is enforcing private education policies like strict evening curfews that, to hagwons and their proponents, too closely resemble the wholesale crackdowns of the eighties [5].

But maybe the government should not worry so much about the hagwon-induced effect of economic inequality on student advancement—after all, even in the absence of hagwon wealthy families would still presumably hire the services of elite tutors—but, rather, the economic inequality created by the commodification of a good as vital as education. Hagwon instructor Kim Kihoon, for example, who has been teaching for more than twenty years, apparently brings in an annual income of more than $4 million, mostly through online sales of curricular materials [6]. While Mr. Kim is obviously a highly visible exception to the less-than-stellar hourly wages earned by most Korean and foreign hagwon instructors, his existence does raise the question of how much private individuals or firms should be able to profit from providing a service traditionally considered to be within the purview of calculated governmental wisdom rather than market-based competition.

The pragmatic answer to this question might hinge on whether competition for profit leads to higher-quality instruction than that which might be offered at schools established through more traditional community-based means. Judging from student reports of hagwon instructors being more engaged, more interesting, and all-around more admirable than public school teachers (not surprising given that 10% of these instructors are reportedly fired any given year) [6], the system seems to work, at least for those willing and able to sift out the top-quality schools—and then pay for them. Bringing us back to the original concern that hagwons contribute to the pernicious translation of economic inequality to inequality of social opportunity.

Native Koreans aren’t the only ones to have raised concerns about the hagwon system, which has also, to some degree, received a bad reputation among foreign teachers for its poorly regulated employment conditions. One quick look at Dave’s ESL cafe [7] is enough to suggest that at least some private academies can and do short-change their teachers by controlling—and altering without notice—their housing and roommate conditions, firing them early just to avoid bonus payments, working them overtime without extra pay (anecdotally, this practice seems neither limited to hagwons nor foreign employees), withholding their passports for “safekeeping,” and generally treating them like second-class citizens. I’m sure that at least some of our readers can pipe in with some juicy stories.

But, dear readers, what do you think? Should education be a public good provided solely by tax-funded government institutions or private semi-charitable non-profit bodies, as in research universities? Or should for-profit companies be able to compete within the same market–as long as they are restrained by a certain degree of regulation? And, if so, what sort of regulation? Is the Korean system living up to this ideal? We’re interested in your thoughts.