Showing posts with label korea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label korea. Show all posts

Monday, March 3, 2008

the toilette as philosophical muse (zizek shall go unmentioned)

Post #1
Its pretty common to see ashtrays in bathroom stalls outside the US, but Korea is the only place i've been with ubiquitous urinal ashtrays. What's more, they often have lighters in them, suggesting a need to light up directly after (before) taking a piss.


Post #2
I'd like to see a cross-cultural study on the average number of post-urinary 'shakes' among adult males. I'd anecdotally peg it at 1-2 for Americans, 6-8 for Koreans.

Post #3
From Japan, this is truly brilliant...

It directs the fresh toilette water through a faucet atop the tank, so when you flush you can use the clean water to wash your hands before it drains into the reserve tank. Saves water and 2 knob turns.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

japan day 1


After all my talk about the failure of Korea's restoration/preservation projects, i've been a bit nervous about Japan... I mean, Japan holds such a large place in our mythification of Asia that I'm not sure if one can truly remove themselves from the experienced knowledge that they're seeing JAPAN. Will i be able to "objectively judge" (i.e. judge from my subjective aesthetic values) what i see? Or will i be so psyched about how cool Japan is that i'll just fawn away, much like a reporter covering the Obama campaign? (i try hard to keep my material fresh and topical, fyi.)

SO, with that out of the way, i will say that Dazaifu certainly felt a lot more authentic than almost anything in Korea.



Maybe it was the plum blossoms? Or is it a stone vs wood thing? Or maybe its just a "this ain't Korea so Hell Yeah" sort of thing.

One clear difference is the quality/style of things you can buy around the shrines. In Korea the stalls around historical sights were limited to street food and children's toys like battle axes and squeaky hammers. Random.
But in Dazaifu there were stores with enormous beautiful 3000 dollar hand carved wooden sculptures. There were hand made tea pots and intricate tiny cloth dioramas depicting traditional Japanese life. And these weren't kitsch or tchotchke or anything... at least i can't imagine a handcrafted doll the size of my thumb, meant for a home shrine and costing 45 dollars, being considered 'kitsch.'
In Korea, I found the lack of anything worth buying with a 'cultural personality' strange, but i didn't really hold it against the place. I'm ready to do that now.

Also, Japan has this:


btw, that giant Luke Skywalker riding the Tauntaun is only $29... ebay anyone?

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Travel as a study of The Trajectory of Pop Music in a Globalized World

Once I sat in a Pizza Hut in Nizwa and they were playing White Town's "Never Be Your Woman."
40 years ago Nizwa was a rebel Omani city without paved roads or electricity. Now... White Town (...and pizza.)

Last week i heard Chumbawumba's "Tubthumping" on a public bus into Pusan.

I don't know how many times i had to defend my distaste for Michael Bolton/Phil Collins/George Michael while living in Egypt.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

(linguistic) insecurities


The first time a student in Egypt explained to me that Arabic contained every phonic sound from every language on earth, i was a little taken aback.
After all, Arabic contains no V, P, or CH sound, nor a grouping of 3 or more consecutive consonants (like in spring).
And this is only the English sounds that Arabic lacks.

But in the Middle East, Arabic is more than just a language. It is first a signifier of purity - the Koran was revealed in poetic Arabic, and unlike the Old or New Testament, it cannot be sacredly translated.
It is also a symbol of unity.
Though the Egyptian and Moroccan dialects are as different as Spanish and French, their definitional sameness acts to represent (maintain/produce?) an analogous unity among Arab countries. When you speak the same language, you implicitly share values and responsibility - and as differences in culture, politics, and economy have decimated any notion of pan-Arabism, Language has remained the one true bond. The exclusion of Shi'a Islam in Iran and 'secular' Islam in Turkey from the broader Middle Eastern concern is no coincidence - they speak a different language.

While living in Egypt, I saw this linguistic myth as nothing more than the language component to a host of myths meant to reify Arabic/Islamic superiority through 'empirical' examples.

And then I came to Korea.

And sure enough, identical story. Only here the claim is expanded to include Hangul, the writing system, which can supposedly reproduce any 'foreign' sound.

While no language can make the claim to umbrella all others, at least Arabic was sort of close. I mean, Egyptians are shockingly fast language learners, and they actually don't have strong accents.

But Korea? Aside from lacking phonemically differentiated L/R, B/P or G/K, there is no F, Z, V, or voiced dental fricative TH (as in 'the'), nor many short vowels. Also, any consonant sound must be followed by a vowel, even if it at the end of the word. (thus max becomes maxuh.) Koreans are shockingly bad language reproducers.

But the 'fact' of Korean lingual superiority is so ingrained (mythified) that it goes completely unchallenged. The adult students i have confronted about this obvious untruth have either laughed in realization, or frozen up, like being told God didn't exist.

But their is more to this bizarre convergence of mythified Linguistic Exceptionalism.
The direction towards which this myth is used varies greatly between the two countries. In Egypt the linguistic superiority myth served to unify a diversified Arabic culture and reify Islamic superiority. Although it was to an extent used as an in-group creating example, (demonstrating superiority over the European out-group) this "in-group" included many countries, and in a sense expanded and defined the group beyond an equally plausible "Egyptian exceptionalism."
But in Korea, the Linguistic Superiority Myth serves an almost opposite purpose. Korea doesn't share its language with a broader region, and so the bolstering effect of the myth does not expand the group. Rather it exclusively serves Korean Nationalism, which unapologetically accepts Korea as the Best Country on Earth.

Of course, there are a billion examples of how this myth is hypocritical. Just as Koreans claim their language is superior, they also rely on English catch phrases as an economy of 'cool' more than anywhere else I've ever been. Korean advertisements regularly use nonsensical English phrases to bolster their images.

(the usage of 'story' in store names will be the subject of another post)

Furthermore, a large portion of the Namdaemun disaster coverage here has focused on Foreign coverage of the incident, to the point where it feels like The Korean Media is over-emphasizing foreign concern as a way to demonstrate the true importance of the disaster. Like the news is saying - "If the New York Times and CNN are covering this, than you know it is important."

As always, i'm not sure what the point of these observations are. In English, I feel like we're more proud of the words we absorb than anything else - knowing the definition of schadenfreude, or that the word for 'tariff' is of Arabic origin, is a sign of sophistication, and any notion of linguistic 'purity' only comes up when confronted with the idea of Ebonics as a legitimate linguistic whole.

But if we weren't so confident about our economic/political/moral superiority, would things like linguistic nationalism start becoming more important?

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Max-uh


This commercial speaks for itself i guess.


And this is a popular TV show with a regular panel of foreign women who speak Korean. (notice the same girl from the commercial, here speaking fluent Korean, though in the commercial she says "max" instead of "max-uh")

Post on linguistics on the way...

Monday, February 11, 2008

You've come a long way, baby. (video edition)

This was my job in Egypt...


And this is my job now...


And i'm the asshole who misses Egypt.

A personal contribution to the "tell me" universe.



I know it sounds like i'm badgering her, but she sings it constantly...

(Some background info here.)

Sunday, February 3, 2008

Thursday, January 31, 2008

gift sets i have seen.

With Seollal just around the corner, it seems a good time to comment on Korea's unusual knack for gift sets.


It's funny to me not so much because they're popular here, but because for some reason they're not popular back home. I mean, a well wrapped set of toiletries or coffees is actually a pretty nice gift.



Of course, this being a blog about differences, i'm going to focus on the ones that might not go over so well back home...

A whole case of generic brand Spam!


Nothing says "happy new year" quite like 12 cans of tuna!


Dried sardines are always a safe bet.

Monday, January 28, 2008

meh dong!

Korea gets 5 points this week because sticking your tongue out is a vocalized onomatopoeia.
And they do it a lot.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

a very belated new years post (of sorts)

On new years i was supposed to join the supposed 600,000 citizens who crowded Haeundae Beach in Pusan to watch the sunrise. But it was freezing, so i stayed in bed. Apparently, i was not alone.
Because this is a Korean tradition, I wasn't surprised that when i asked my kids on Tuesday how many of them had seen the sunrise, most raised their hand. What did surprise me was that most of them had "seen" the sunrise in a rather insincere manner; by watching it on TV or looking at slide shows on their computer.

huh?

There is a language barrier, and so the most pressing question was to decide whether

A) the kids were watching the sunrise later in the day to avoid waking up at 6am.

B) The kids were watching it on TV because they were too cold/lazy to go outside.

(Un)surprisingly, the answer was evenly split.

I understand people watching the Times Square ball dropping live via television. That is a site-specific event. But the sunrise? Furthermore, i can't really image someone watching a taped 'ball-dropping' the next day because they were too tuckered out the night before.

I have a very hopeful image of my children watching the sunrise on their Samsungs while the actual sun rises, um, like directly outside their house. For added irony, one of the children gets up and pulls down the blinds to keep the glare off the TV.

A boy can dream, can't he?

Monday, January 14, 2008

A susan Sontag kind of week (part 1)

I finished reading "Regarding the Pain of Others" yesterday, and it was gooood. And while i agreed with most of it, something strange happens in the last chapter that made me feel uneasy:

Part 1

Towards the end of the book, Sontag gives the strong admonishment that...
"Someone who is perennially surprised that depravity exists, who continues to feel disillusioned (even incredulous) when confronted with evidence of what humans are capable of inflicting in the way of gruesome, hands-on cruelties upon other humans, has not reached moral or psychological adulthood.
No one after a certain age has the right to this kind of innocence, of superficiality, to this degree of ignorance, or amnesia." (p 114)

Is this true? Does being an 'adult' imply an obligation to not only accept, but accept with such detachment, the wickedness of humans? Does holding onto a hope that the worst that humankind has shown is an aberration really imply an 'unacceptable' naivety?
It would seem to me that this position creates a number of moral problems. If one is morally required to not only accept, but accept without flinching, the potential for gruesome depravity, then it complicates our expected response to a situation where such violence is even possible. If we cannot be 'illusioned' that anyone would refrain from the worst, how can we justify preparing for anything less? It would seem obvious that any relationship with another human is founded on a tacit agreement that such depraved acts remain 'off the table.' And if these acts are understood as beyond boundaries, then it would also follow that the necessary reaction to witnessing them is precisely that of disbelief; of disillusionment with the contract of human decency.
But this disillusionment cannot be permanent. The renewal of faith required to go on after the invariable aberration from a Contract of Decency - not just as a functioning society, but as a psychologically sane individual - is predicated not on forgiveness of the individual who errs, but on labeling the act itself as Exceptionalist.

Sontag does go on to acknowledge the incongruence between the value of remembering and the importance of forgetting. "Heartlessness and amnesia seem to go together... [but] to make peace is to forget. To reconcile, it is necessary that memory be faulty and limited." (p 115)

And in a general sense, this also presents a catch-22 of sorts. Because while Sontag admits that remembering in particulars can be counterproductive towards the cause of reconciliation, it is also necessary towards any sort of 'meaningful' remembering. If we only know that genocide is possible in the abstract, it becomes intangible, unreal. But if we remember it in the specifics, it not only prevents forgiving, it also becomes an act tied to the memory. Depravity existed here and here - and we can locate and maybe begin to explain it in 'this' historical context. So we are at an impasse.

So yeah. This is - i am well aware - a completely inappropriate comparison in terms of scale and weight, but it is my life this week:
I quit my job here in Korea on Monday. I knew that even though my contract clearly states that i can give 30 days notice at any point without penalties, my boss would probably screw me. At least, i was aware that in the history of people quiting there jobs in Korea, there are very few cases of happy endings, and quite a few cases of disaster. As a result, most people who choose to leave early turn the tables and preemptively screw their bosses by 'pulling a runner' and simply leaving in the middle of the night right after payday.
This is undoubtedly a vicious cycle. The more people 'pull runners,' the more bosses won't trust foreign teachers, and will try and abuse them, which just makes it more likely that someone will run in the first place.
I knew this before Monday, but i still didn't believe it would happen to me. Or rather, I had to be naive enough to see if it would happen to me. I was curious to see if my boss, who i respect as decent and honest, would try and take advantage of me. And of course she has.

Also, Korean kids love peanut butter sandwiches, but the thought of adding jelly makes them cringe. fyi.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

A Susan Sontag kind of week (part 2)

part 2

Sontag talks about viewing suffering in two very different ways;
First - and more importantly - as a way to remember and honor war's dead, to (maybe) avoid future wars, or at least to understand their horrifying implications.

Second as a narcissistic and base desire to witness the morbid.

Since leaving Egypt i have thought a lot about this second part. About our natural 'attraction' to viewing suffering and the grotesque. Sontag locates the first recorded acknowledgment of this attraction in Plato's Republic, where in Book IV Socrates relates a story about Leonitus, son of Aglaion:
On his way up from the Piraeus outside the north wall, he noticed the bodies of some criminals lying on the ground, with the executioner standing by them. He wanted to go and look at them, but at the same time he was disgusted and tried to turn away. He struggled for some time and covered his eyes, but at last the desire was too much for him. Opening his eyes wide, he ran up to the bodies and cried, "There you are, curse you, feast yourselves on this lovely sight."
Last night in a taxi on the way back from Pusan, we saw flashing lights up ahead on the highway. Scott said it was going to be a checkpoint, but i was pretty sure i knew what was coming.
In America we're so fast to hide the bodies. Part of the implicit pact of rubbernecking back home is an all-but-guaranteed PG-13 rating. We crane to look, but we anticipate only the signs and symbols of carnage - shattered glass and crumpled metal. I've noticed that this is rarely the case outside of the West.
Last night no one had bothered to cover up the body. It just lay there, face up, on the side of the road. I saw him first, and pointed out that "that guy's dead," whereas Scott and Cyndi decided that he definitely was not. The cab driver, for his part, said "oh my god" dramatically/breathlessly a few times, clearly for our benefit. ("Oh my god" is a genuine Korean expression, used in all corresponding situations to the English version.)
Afterwards, i couldn't stop thinking about the gulf between our different reactions.
Cyndi asked, "how can you be so cavalier?" But I wonder how i couldn't be.
I saw so many car crashes in Egypt that the cringe-component of the shock faded. All that was left was the visual, and the visual remains fascinating.
Sontag points out that "suffering from natural causes, such as illness or childbirth, is scantily represented in the history of art; that caused by accident, virtually not at all - as if there were no such thing as suffering by inadvertence or misadventure." (p. 40) This is probably because suffering removed from pathos becomes narratively meaningless. (unless of course it serves an anti-narrative of universal pointlessness.) And because most of Sontag's book is devoted precisely to the 'meaning' associated with viewing suffering, she doesn't dwell any further on the accidental misery of others.

But if Sontag is correct in arguing (and i think she is) that viewing the misery inherent in war photography cannot be separated from the narrative of the war in question, then photographs - or first person viewings - of narrative-less accidental death is indeed a very different bag. It is all the depravity with none of the 'benefits.' Except that even here Sontag sees potential for personal growth:
As objects of contemplation, images of the atrocious can answer to several different needs. To steel oneself against weakness. To make oneself numb. To acknowledge the existence of the incorrigible. (p 98)


And if this truly is a goal (i'm skeptical), then I would think that accident photography offers the best way to approach this, free from the distractions of the narratively contextualized. And the lack of any mainstream interest in narrative-less accident-photography (whether documentary or artistic) becomes a strange omission.
Or maybe we really just need this contextualizing as a shield. Both from appearing morbid and grotesque ourselves, and from feeling that the world itself is morbid and grotesque without consequence.

Or maybe i've written a stupidly long post.

Thursday, January 3, 2008

this has got to stop.

wondergirl hysteria has reached the point where it has literally eclipsed the existence of anything else. Like the alloted musical space in korean culture has been filled with "tell me," to the exclusion of all other music past or present.


flight attendants...


child exploitation


best of...


and a tutorial for the curious...

Saturday, December 29, 2007

on decay

I'm still struggling to understand the disconnect between my awareness of Korea's "beauty" and my complete lack of appreciation for it.

I'm ready to give up on some grand explanation, and instead focus on the details... (small differences, if you will.)

1.

Something is wrong when i can't tell the difference between a modern bathroom...

...and the ancient palace complex it is meant to "compliment."

Thanks, but no thanks. I can see the same thing at Epcot. (which i have. its actually kind of interesting.)

When you juxtapose the True Past with a modern duplicate, you complicate matters of authenticity and value. And unless we're dealing with something truly awe-inspiring and unique (like the pyramids or the alps), authenticity is really all that something old has to offer.

When you build a bathroom as beautiful as the adjacent site, you're just reminding me that the site itself isn't unique.
And once you negate the mystique of uniqueness, you point out the secret that any encounter with the Ancient is illusionary, and is inevitably wrapped in the historical process that has carried it to the present...

2.

When you erase decay, you undo meaning.

Decay is an inevitable and important part of historical sites. It is the scars and beauty marks that separate man from mannequin, real from reproduction.

But in Korea, decay at historical sights is viewed with the same disdain as decay in the home - an embarrassing blemish that distracts from the 'true' beauty and significance of the site in question.

But Travel is not about recapturing the past the way it once existed, that's what time travel is for. Travel is about viewing a process, a continuous and eternal cycle of growth and decay.
Sometimes we travel to see the breadth of the process as it has effected one site. Turkey is a remarkable layering of cultures spilling over each other, a living museum to the triumphs and failures of both the West and the Middle East. Other times we travel to see a single point in the decay/growth cycle. We see a modern technophile Japan or a starving Cairo, and our own lives serve as the reference to 'normalcy.'

Because in the end, travel is ultimately about understanding the old as it relates to us now.

In Egypt they leave one Past in the context of the many Pasts that followed. Statues remain toppled, ancient graffiti is ubiquitous. And it is this accumulation of pasts that gives meaning to Places, that makes them historic. But in Korea one Past is singled out and preserved to the detriment of all others. Cultural sites have been swept clean of narrative, of the inevitable expansions and re-appropriations that history has wrought.

Would (could?) Shelly have written Ozymandias if the Egyptian government had restored or removed all the fallen statues? Could we ever understand our own place in history if all we saw of the past was it's leaders desired projections of excellence?

All This doesn't mean you should leave the 5000 year old layer of grime over king Tut's golden crown. It just means you shouldn't confuse the 'Past as an object' with the 'Past as a narrative'. We may delight in viewing the Past's objects - but truth, beauty, and meaning inevitably come from observing it's narrative...



I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
- Percy Bysshe Shelley

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

i played blackjack for about 6 hours with this guy on saturday:



it almost made up for the fact that i had just spent 3 hours on a fruitless quest for redbull through the back streets of nampodong.



If my homesick hankerings had involved Skippy, Tylenol, double mint, old spice, or Campbell's soup, i would have been okay. But no such luck.

So instead i ate odang, which is kind of like hot gafilda fish on a stick.

It's pretty much my favorite food here.

Also, it would be criminal if i spent all this time in korea and never posted a photo like this:

Monday, December 24, 2007

technomythonoia!


Koreans don't flush their toilet paper.
And yes, I know this is not an entirely unique practice. In Costa Rica it was the same, as in most parts of Egypt. But that was because these countries have an aging infrastructure that was built on a third world budget.
In Korea, they have plasma TV's in their elevators, and I'm pretty sure nothing is more than 5 years old.

I'm not even kidding. This is the wikimapia view of my house. The satellite image must be a little outdated, because its just a giant field. Which means there is no way that the pipes can't support my toilet paper. And yet, my boss and landlady both warned me that if i flushed, i would absolutely clog the pipes. (my landlady warned me by punching me multiple times in the arm, but I'll save the violent vibrancy of aged Korean women for another post.)

So why won't Koreans flush their toilet paper?
Although i can't come up with an accurate name for the phenomena, (technomythonoia?) I'm willing to bet it's somehow related to fan death.
(fan death, of course, is when "an electric fan creates a vortex, which sucks the oxygen from the enclosed and sealed room and creates a partial vacuum inside.")

This isn't to say American's don't' suffer from some form of the same ailment - i would literally run out of the room after turning on the microwave before i went to college. But I am struggling to find an American equivalent at the same level of absurdity as fan death.

And i am similarly struggling to figure out why the multitude of warning signs needed by a technologically paranoid society have to be animated.
(I am using animated here in both senses of the word. Yes, we use 'illustrations' in our warnings, but they are almost always passive. If you look closely, you can see little cartoon tears (sweat drops?) flying off the people in the second and third panel of the earthquake warning.)




Life's mysteries know no limit...

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

gaming





It is 40 degrees in Gimhae right now. And yes, these kids are playing street fighter outside of a convenience store.

They should really be at home watching one of Korea's TWO tv channels devoted to starcraft: