Alex and Chickpea Do Korea

“Are you busy?”: Our brush with Buddha’s Witnesses

Alex and I were in the harried midst of hanging our clothes to dry (yep, no dryers here in the good ol’ ROK) before setting out to downtown Daegu for another Orions basketball game when we heard a knock at the door.

Each time this has happened — a total of only three times in the 10+ weeks we’ve lived in Daegu — we exchange surprised glances before one of us goes to the door. The first time, it was a census lady (there’s no escaping them, trust us. Alex had to fill mine out while I was mid-Skype session with my family). The second time, it was a little lost ajumma who wandered into the wrong apartment. But this time might have been the most surprising of all.

“Could we have something to drink?” said the mid-30s, bespectacled Korean man when I opened the door. I glanced at his companion, a similarly outfitted woman in her late 20s. Both were wearing hiking gear. Maybe they just got of the nearby trail at Hamji Mountain, I mused.  Still, I couldn’t quite figure out how or why they got into my code-secure (or so I thought) apartment building. There’s a convenience store less than 15 yards away.

Nevertheless, I’m not one to turn down a couple of thirsty strangers, so I fumbled through some basic Korean and asked if they’d prefer water or juice. I couldn’t decide whether or not I should invite them in. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, I felt guilty leaving them in the cold hallway. I poured them each a glass of water.

Once they had gulped it down, they asked the questions we get almost daily in Korea. “Foreigners? Where are you from? How do you like Korea?” And then, one unexpected question: “Are you busy?” From our broken conversation, we gleaned that they were going up a nearby mountain. What they now told us is that they were visiting a Buddhist temple … and collecting offerings along the way. Yep, we were hit up by the Buddhist version of Jehovah’s Witnesses (with far less fire and brimstone, and no uncomfortable looking suits).

We politely declined, said we had to get going. They said they’d pray for us at the temple. Praying for my eternal soul in exchange for a glass of water? That’s a hell of a bargain.

Alex and Chickpea Do Korea

Love and Basketball: Hello, Daegu Orions

Before I extrapolate on the wonders of basketball in Korea, let me take a moment to celebrate the fact that it’s Friday; that I saw my first Korean snow yesterday; that my ondol heating system is on full-blast; that my open class is over (observations suck);  that I’m drinking a beer (even if it is Hite); that I’m snacking on string cheese, courtesy of Daegu’s Costco; and that I’ve got Creedence Clearwater Revival’s greatest hits as a soundtrack. The neighbors are in for an impromptu norae bang treat when “Bad Mooon Rising” starts.

Yes, life in Korea is good. Especially since I’ve discovered the Orions, Daegu’s very own, very crappy, basketball club. No one can ever call me a fairweather fan, though. I’ve already got a branded t-shirt, noise makers, and even a cell phone charm (so sue me) repping my new hometown b-ballers. But big ballers they are not.

I officially became a fan at my first-ever professional basketball game last Sunday, when we played the Incheon Elephants. Since then, I’ve learned a few interesting facts about Korea’s most under-appreciated sport. First off, to call this a pro club is technically accurate, but is misleading for fans of American ball. Daegu Gymnasium can host a whopping crowd of just over 5,000 — and it’s rarely half-full. I’ve seen high school games with more crowd enthusiasm. Also, there are a few club rules that are unfamiliar for US fans: teams can have only two foreign players (usually, two of their starters) and one Korean-American player. This is to prevent clubs from importing their entire team from abroad.

There are nine teams in  Korea’s pro league. Currently, Daegu is ranked eighth. Le sigh. Despite losing both games I’ve seen, the Orions are entertaining nonetheless. Their stars are Glen McGowan (who was injured in the first quarter of Tuesday’s game against Jeonju); Otis George (Crowd chants: Oh-ti-suh!); and my personal favorite…Number 40…it’s Lee…Dong…Juuuuuuuun! Yes, Lee Dong-Jun is a lanky, long-haired Korean-American (given name: Daniel Sandrin) who dominates in the paint and behind the 3-point line. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that he’s also modeled in Nike fashion shows.

So I’ve got the fan gear. I’ve got a favorite player. I’ve got plans to see many more games. What I don’t got is a winning team. The Orions were up by more than 20 points — yes, 20 — and still managed to lose to the Elephants last Sunday. I had hopes for Tuesday’s game against lower-ranked Jeonju’s KCC Egis. Alas, despite a rousing back-and-forth lead, we fell just five points short of a W.

You can’t blame the cheerleaders for the loss, though. Those gals were shakin’, poppin’, lockin’ and costume-changing as if the win and their adorable little lives depended on it. I also have warm-and-fuzzies for these ladies because, although I haven’t won any (yet), they give out free gear — from signed balls and jerseys to pizza and Pocari Sweat — throughout the game. Another +1 for Korean ball: the mascots breakdance. Take that, stateside b-ball fans.

Worth mentioning is that, with tickets at 9,000 won a pop (about $8), supporting the home team is extremely affordable. Nosh outside the stadium before the game at one of many street food stands (I always recommend a sugar-dipped, double-battered corn dog) or bring your own snacks into the stadium. Yep, I was spoiled by my hometown Tampa Bay Rays open policy on bringing your own food to the game, but the happy tradition continues, halfway across the world. Except that my now my game time snacks include dried squid.

Alex and Chickpea Do Korea

The making of the Chilgok monorail

On my first walk to school three months ago, I noticed a kind-of beauty about the run-off ditch next to my apartment building. Sure, it wasn’t a vibrant ecosystem, but it was nice to see small egrets and people fishing next with huge apartments towering over the distance. In the morning, the sun cast a calming light on the small strip of water.

But that’s gone now. Replaced by bulldozers, dredgers, drilling machines and huge columns of cement.

Yes, this is the beginning of Daegu’s monorail line, which will run from the northern suburb of Chilgok to the outskirts of downtown Daegu, intersecting with the Seomun Market Station on subway line 2, veering southwest, intersecting with Myeongdok Station on subway line 1 and then end in Beommul-dong.

Estimated completion date: 2014. The fully-automated, unmanned monorail is the first of its kind in Korea. It will cost a cool 1.43 trillion won. (I pity the accountants working on this project. All those zeros!)

Currently it takes between 25-45 minutes to get to downtown Daegu from Chilgok by bus. Just hold out three more years English teachers!

The dredging of the stream hasn’t stopped some folks from fishing …

… or gathering clams and snails.

Alex and Chickpea Do Korea

Winter in Korea: When will my school turn on the heat?

My foot is shaking. My whole body chilled. But my hands actually hurt. The same kind of pain as when you’ve carried a heavy grocery bag a mile or two and the plastic handles have long dug into your skin. My fingers are visibly red. But not numb. If only, they were numb.

I’m typing this as I sit at my desk inside my office at school. Yes, inside.

Cold weather hit Korea about three weeks ago. Temperatures have hung around 40 degrees Fahrenheit during the day, dropping to the low 30s once the sun sets. Yes, anything below 55 degrees is cold to this Floridian, but with no respite for 8 hours a day in a school that, on some sunny days, is actually colder inside than outside, I think even my Iowa friends would complain.

My classroom is equally as cold as my office, but at least there I’m moving around equally bundled-up students. If I get them laughing enough, I reason, it may raise the temperature one or two degrees. But the hallways are the worst. Open windows line the hallways creating a wind tunnel effect that reminds me of the Nor’easter storms I used to experience in Connecticut.

But my school isn’t uncommonly cruel. This is just winter in Korea.

My teachers say the finance office controls the heat.

“When will they turn it on?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” they answer.

The other day, they turned it on. It was glorious. In my classroom, where one huge heater stands guard behind the teacher’s desk, I even took off my coat. In my office, I left it on just so I could sweat a little.

Then, the next day, the heat was off again.

Alex and Chickpea Do Korea

Thoughts in Daegu on North Korea’s attack on South Korea

Here's a map detailing the 150 or so incidents between North and South Korea in the 50 years since the Korean War.

“Are you worried?” asked P.E. Teacher #1 as we walk down the hallway after finishing lunch. I was just telling him how my friends have sent some worried emails to me regarding North Korea’s recent attack on South Korea.

“Worried? No. Are you worried?” I respond.

Hesmiles and says, “A little.”

It’s been three days since North Korea fired artillery over their border and into a community on Yeonpyeong Island, killing two marines and two civilians. On TV, it looks like a nation in panic. In Daegu, everyone seemed nonplussed. But that’s just how it seemed.

Alex and Chickpea Do Korea

Checklist before moving to Korea (or any other country)

Recently, I found my “To Do” list from July listing everything I wanted to accomplish before moving to South Korea. I typed it out here for aspiring ESL teachers headed to South Korea (or, really anyone going to another country for an extended length of time) who have that feeling that you’re forgetting something.

I’ve included some links to help you navigate some of the more difficult tasks.

Alex and Chickpea Do Korea

Korean hip-hop duo Supreme Team in Daegu

In our ongoing effort to embrace Korean music, Chickpea and I hit up Club G2 in downtown Daegu last night to see Supreme Team, who you might remember from my video of the 2010 Daegu International Bodypainting Festival. We spent nearly six hours in a packed, smoky club to catch of a glimpse of our favorite Korean hip-hop duo, which is also the only Korean hip-hop duo we know of.

Highlights: The graffiti art inside the club, Korean guys comfortable enough to dance with each other and my blurry photo of Supreme Team entering the venue.

Lowlights: The $6 beers, the $7-8 drinks, the late arrival of Supreme Team (2 a.m.? Really?) and their short five song set.

Alex and Chickpea Do Korea

Don’t taze me, hyeong!

It was just another Saturday night in Daegu. Chickpea and I met some of our expat friends at Viniroo, a walk-up liquor-in-a-bag drinking establishment, and we made the rounds of our usual haunts downtown.

But we were restless. Our main bar– JEEEP (actual spelling) — was empty and our group of five wanted to dance somewhere new. We were searching for a suitable club when I looked down an alley and spotted a place with a large (fake) fire engine jutting from the building. This was Club Siren.

“Let’s go here,” Chickpea said and our group headed toward the door.

We were 15 feet away when the club’s bouncer came out from behind his podium and yelled to us: “No foreigners! We don’t speak English here!”

Shocked, one of our friends blurted, “That’s messed up.” (Looking back on it, he probably said, “That’s f***ed up.” I honestly can’t remember.)

At that point, the bouncer reached behind his podium and produced a Tazer. Then, he demonstrated its power. Zap!

We walked away at that point — flabbergasted, disturbed and a little sad.

To be sure, this is not common. Chickpea and I have entered several Korean clubs in which we were the only foreigners. We have many friends who have done the same. I find Korean bouncers, bartenders and patrons to be very professional, even overly nice.

But this kind of discrimination does exist. Dave’s ESL has a year-old message board thread listing the bars that have denied entry to foreigners.

A few points to round out the discussion:

I’ve heard there are foreigner-only bars in Korea near military bases and these are run by other Koreans. Also, while I don’t think this makes it OK, I know some bars have had some real problems with Westerners, especially American military. That might account for why this guy had a Taser. It doesn’t make it right, but bad behavior is the same reason why many U.S. clubs have a dress code. And, obviously, U.S. clubs discriminate, too. Just not so flagrantly.

Plus, as some people have noted on other sites, some clubs have complicated rules on drink limits, ordering food, table prices, etc. and some club owners simply bar foreigners because they don’t want to/ can’t explain this in English.

I don’t think anyone should let this play into any decisions about coming to Korea or enjoying the nightlife — it is rare — but words of wisdom: If a club bouncer says “No foreigners allowed,” it’s best to not argue the matter. They might have a Taser.

Alex and Chickpea Do Korea

South Korea High School Test Day: A National Sleep-In Day for the rest of us!

On Thursday, South Korea’s esteemed high school seniors took their college entrance exams.

These exams — think, SATs — are the single most important test a South Korean will take in his or her life. Accordingly, the rest of Korea changes their time schedule once a year for high school students.

Due to the possible traffic conflicts, most employers give their workers an extra hour or so to sleep in on this day. (Some parents even get the whole day off so they can pray in front of the test site.) Even the military was told to not conduct any noisy activities during the test. The only people (besides high school students) up early were Korea’s public safety officers. Nearly all of them come out to help direct traffic and give rides (by car or motorcycle) to high school seniors running late to their test!

Eat Your Kimchi has a great video about this year’s national exam day here.