On Skin Color, Epidemiology and Bias
9 years ago
Friday, September 25, 2009
Wednesday, August 12: Taal Volcano
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Saturday, September 12, 2009
Tuesday August 11: We're going to Manila......eventually
Tuesday morning saw our little group (just Mary and I again) head off to Manila straight away. Or that was the intention. Jamie, having lived like a cat for the last day (at least 18 hours of sleep), was healthy once again, so off we headed to the nearby mall to pick up plane tickets back to Manila. Now, maybe I've been sheltered in my life and haven't ever gone to a mall in a less than ideal, but this mall was a first for me. Why? Well, I've never seen a security screening and bag search entering the mall by guards packing automatic rifles. Course, that wasn't that unusual in the Philippines, as there are automatic rifle-packing guards at all the banks, and most fast food restaurants, bakeries, pawn shops, or any other place that might have money employ security guards. It took a little getting used to, the whole enjoying yourself during your meal when there was a man with a very big gun possibly standing right next to you.
Once inside The Most Fortified Mall in the World, we made our way to the travel agents. We were given two choices for flights that day. Take a flight in 3 hours (2pm) and pay $75 or wait till 6pm and pay $25. Hard choice. Course, now we had to occupy ourselves for several hours in a city that has nearly nothing to do. We settled on trying to get in a quick 9 holes at one of Cebu's golf courses and go from there. We found a book store and (gasp) used their city maps without buying one. I'm so bad. Although, I did walk out with a new book, as I had finished all of mine.
How was the golf course, you ask? Well, we didn't play. We were all hyped to go and caught a taxi to the course and found the reception desk and then stopped cold. You are going to charge us the same for 9 holes as 18 holes? We have to get a cart and caddies? How does that even work? What the hell would the caddies even do?? We are in the Philippines and the golf costs how much? In order to play we both have to bend over and have the burliest greens keeper "clean his club" in our posteriors? Thanks, but no thanks. We had a rough amount that we wanted to pay for golf and this place was asking double that, so we left. Which, meant we had to sit at the airport for a long, long, long time. In on of those "Did that really just happen moments?", I was reading Murakami's book, "Norwegian Wood", named after the Beatles song of the same name, when the cafe we were sitting at began playing "Norwegian Wood". Surreal, man.
We eventually found our way to Manila and settled back into the same motel we stayed at last time. We were starved, so we headed out for grub. I, knowing that Jamie won't eat something if it isn't a huge slab of some type of meat and it doesn't come with chips, suggested that he choose the restaurant. He waffled and said that I should pick. I agreed and then chose the Japanese restaurant, where I knew he wouldn't be able to eat, well, anything. Sure enough, he whined about his food and then gave me near all of it. He fell right into my trap. Eeeeexcellent.
Once inside The Most Fortified Mall in the World, we made our way to the travel agents. We were given two choices for flights that day. Take a flight in 3 hours (2pm) and pay $75 or wait till 6pm and pay $25. Hard choice. Course, now we had to occupy ourselves for several hours in a city that has nearly nothing to do. We settled on trying to get in a quick 9 holes at one of Cebu's golf courses and go from there. We found a book store and (gasp) used their city maps without buying one. I'm so bad. Although, I did walk out with a new book, as I had finished all of mine.
How was the golf course, you ask? Well, we didn't play. We were all hyped to go and caught a taxi to the course and found the reception desk and then stopped cold. You are going to charge us the same for 9 holes as 18 holes? We have to get a cart and caddies? How does that even work? What the hell would the caddies even do?? We are in the Philippines and the golf costs how much? In order to play we both have to bend over and have the burliest greens keeper "clean his club" in our posteriors? Thanks, but no thanks. We had a rough amount that we wanted to pay for golf and this place was asking double that, so we left. Which, meant we had to sit at the airport for a long, long, long time. In on of those "Did that really just happen moments?", I was reading Murakami's book, "Norwegian Wood", named after the Beatles song of the same name, when the cafe we were sitting at began playing "Norwegian Wood". Surreal, man.
We eventually found our way to Manila and settled back into the same motel we stayed at last time. We were starved, so we headed out for grub. I, knowing that Jamie won't eat something if it isn't a huge slab of some type of meat and it doesn't come with chips, suggested that he choose the restaurant. He waffled and said that I should pick. I agreed and then chose the Japanese restaurant, where I knew he wouldn't be able to eat, well, anything. Sure enough, he whined about his food and then gave me near all of it. He fell right into my trap. Eeeeexcellent.
Monday August 10: In Travel Limbo
Monday saw our group finally departing from Moalboal/Panagsama Beach and heading back toward Manila. We didn't make it there, unfortunately, and spent the day in Cebu, half way between Manila and our old resort area. The travel back to Cebu was much smoother and easier this time around, as our entire group chartered a van to take us the 3 hours back to town, rather than taking the public bus for just a few bucks more.
Once in Cebu, though, our movement came to a complete stop. We had planned to hang out the new friends we met in Moalboal for the evening and then move on to Manila the next morning, except they ended up just staying at their hotels with their lady friends. Can't really say what they did all day. Well, I could say, but I don't need to, cuz you already know what they did. Too bad we were waiting around the phone at our hotel waiting for him to call. Well, I was. Jamie was sleeping, cuz he was sick. Mary was smart enough to drink in excess every day of our trip all the way up Saturday (a full week) when he (surprise, surprise) started feeling sick to his stomach and just slept on Sunday and Monday, eating very little and throwing up occasionally. The little time he was awake he spent complaining about how shitty he felt. Somehow, I couldn't really feel bad for him. Not sure why. So the other group was "busy", Jamie was out of commission, but where did that leave me? Well, Cebu doesn't have shit to do, unless you wanna troll around the fancy western style malls, which I clearly didn't want to, so I sat in my hotel room all day. I wanted to get to Manila as quickly as possible because there was no reason to stay in Cebu, but I was outvoted. Shit happens. I did enjoy the enormous variety of television in my room. Korean programs, Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese, whatever you wanted. I spent most of my time watching the UFC pay-per-view that some Filipino channel was broadcasting and got to see Anderson Silva beat the hell out of poor Forrest Griffin. Yep, slow day when your highlight is T.V. The UFC event was televised on a network called "Balls". Their slogan: We got 'em. It might be the manliest channel I've ever seen. Pretty fucking extreme too. We're talking at least 4 X extreme. XXXXtreme. Can you handle it?
Pics: Album 1, Picture 113
Once in Cebu, though, our movement came to a complete stop. We had planned to hang out the new friends we met in Moalboal for the evening and then move on to Manila the next morning, except they ended up just staying at their hotels with their lady friends. Can't really say what they did all day. Well, I could say, but I don't need to, cuz you already know what they did. Too bad we were waiting around the phone at our hotel waiting for him to call. Well, I was. Jamie was sleeping, cuz he was sick. Mary was smart enough to drink in excess every day of our trip all the way up Saturday (a full week) when he (surprise, surprise) started feeling sick to his stomach and just slept on Sunday and Monday, eating very little and throwing up occasionally. The little time he was awake he spent complaining about how shitty he felt. Somehow, I couldn't really feel bad for him. Not sure why. So the other group was "busy", Jamie was out of commission, but where did that leave me? Well, Cebu doesn't have shit to do, unless you wanna troll around the fancy western style malls, which I clearly didn't want to, so I sat in my hotel room all day. I wanted to get to Manila as quickly as possible because there was no reason to stay in Cebu, but I was outvoted. Shit happens. I did enjoy the enormous variety of television in my room. Korean programs, Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese, whatever you wanted. I spent most of my time watching the UFC pay-per-view that some Filipino channel was broadcasting and got to see Anderson Silva beat the hell out of poor Forrest Griffin. Yep, slow day when your highlight is T.V. The UFC event was televised on a network called "Balls". Their slogan: We got 'em. It might be the manliest channel I've ever seen. Pretty fucking extreme too. We're talking at least 4 X extreme. XXXXtreme. Can you handle it?
Pics: Album 1, Picture 113
Saturday and Sunday August 8th and 9th: More Beach, More Books, More of the Same
As you might have guessed, the weekend was more of the same rush-rush, busy-busy chaos that had filled the last few days in Moalboal. Wake up around 8 am, read for 2 hours, swim and work out on the lawn, grab my meals, fit in some more reading during the afternoon, then head "downtown" for drinks, pool and dinner around 7. Man, I don't even know how I managed to keep up. Kidding aside, we did manage to make it back out to White Beach again on Saturday and had a much better time of it than previously. We immediately moved to the clean section of beach to avoid the coconuts, flip flops, needles and other goodies. Again, the weather was perfect so we couldn't complain. We even managed to make a new friend, as we met an American guy originally from California, but who now works in Singapore, who was also on vacation. We discussed various things but mostly just what the hell the others country of residence was like. From everything he said, Singapore sounds like a kick ass place. Not like I didn't already know. Someday Singapore, someday.
The evening saw our group awkwardly joining the town disco. Basically, every Saturday evening all the locals and any tourists that are interested wander down to some dirty open air bar/stage or something and shake their respective stuff for several hours. It was certainly convenient for the tourists as the party took place not even a 5 minute walk from our resort or any of the other resorts for that matter. Panagsama Beach and the resorts are situated up and down the coast for a mile or two. Our resort was on the quieter end, down in the south, while the bars and restaurants made up the loud end (understandably) about 15 minutes on foot up the beach from our location. The disco weaseled its right into the middle between the bars and resorts. I originally had zero intention of going to the disco, as I can not, should not, and dare not dance in front of others, as I've been told it causes blindness and sometimes cancer in young children. Ohhh, and I don't like socializing or meeting people. But I was literally (and I'm not being figurative here, he really did grab me by the arm and pull me into the disco) taken into the disco by Graham and told to have fun. I am that lame that a man twice my age is telling me to have fun and enjoy myself. Yikes. The disco was everything that we had expected: dirty, loud, frantic and really really sweaty (which really makes no sense because it was mostly open-air). Despite my best efforts, I did receive some attention, but I sadly didn't reciprocate. As I was wandering past the bar, I had my shirt pulled on several times by I assume interested parties. As much as I approve of and love women being the aggressors (mainly cuz I'm a coward and I'm lazy), I was very hesitant for two reasons: 1) I had no idea whether these ladies were just girls from town or if they were those certain type of females that request cash for their services (and I certainly had no intention of flushing large sums of money down the toilet) 2) Several of the women seemed to have something caught in their throat, perhaps an Adam's Apple (yeah, you never know here), and I also wished to avoid that group. Ohhh, and none of them were attractive. So after a few minutes of standing around awkwardly and wishing I was home reading some book, any book, I hightailed it out of there and went home. To read. It was a close call but I made it out.
The evening saw our group awkwardly joining the town disco. Basically, every Saturday evening all the locals and any tourists that are interested wander down to some dirty open air bar/stage or something and shake their respective stuff for several hours. It was certainly convenient for the tourists as the party took place not even a 5 minute walk from our resort or any of the other resorts for that matter. Panagsama Beach and the resorts are situated up and down the coast for a mile or two. Our resort was on the quieter end, down in the south, while the bars and restaurants made up the loud end (understandably) about 15 minutes on foot up the beach from our location. The disco weaseled its right into the middle between the bars and resorts. I originally had zero intention of going to the disco, as I can not, should not, and dare not dance in front of others, as I've been told it causes blindness and sometimes cancer in young children. Ohhh, and I don't like socializing or meeting people. But I was literally (and I'm not being figurative here, he really did grab me by the arm and pull me into the disco) taken into the disco by Graham and told to have fun. I am that lame that a man twice my age is telling me to have fun and enjoy myself. Yikes. The disco was everything that we had expected: dirty, loud, frantic and really really sweaty (which really makes no sense because it was mostly open-air). Despite my best efforts, I did receive some attention, but I sadly didn't reciprocate. As I was wandering past the bar, I had my shirt pulled on several times by I assume interested parties. As much as I approve of and love women being the aggressors (mainly cuz I'm a coward and I'm lazy), I was very hesitant for two reasons: 1) I had no idea whether these ladies were just girls from town or if they were those certain type of females that request cash for their services (and I certainly had no intention of flushing large sums of money down the toilet) 2) Several of the women seemed to have something caught in their throat, perhaps an Adam's Apple (yeah, you never know here), and I also wished to avoid that group. Ohhh, and none of them were attractive. So after a few minutes of standing around awkwardly and wishing I was home reading some book, any book, I hightailed it out of there and went home. To read. It was a close call but I made it out.
Friday August 7: Absolutely Nothing Part 2 (Notice a common theme?)
Hell, after the drama of the previous night, I needed a day or two to recover myself To bask in the my victory (or wallow in my own shame, depending on how you look at it) after the excitement the night before. Good thing the rest of the group obliged me there. We were too disappointed from the beach yesterday that we didn't even bother leaving our resort area. I made the most of what was available. I was finally able to check my email after about a week to find it overflowing with 6 or 7 new emails, most of which were from my parents. What's it like being so god damn popular, Eric? Well, its a lot of work, but I manage. I manage. After several hours of going through emails and responding (okay, 20 minutes later), I moved over to the pool for some swimming and some capoeira poolside. The group was impressed with my ability to do a bridge (yeah, tough crowd to please) and my ability to hold a handstand for more than 10 seconds (take that Sundaram!!!). After lunch I caught some sun (and I clearly mean I entered the sun for a matter of seconds while passing from my cottage to the restaurant and was severely burned as a result....gotta love that hearty Northern European complexion) and read some more. I'm pretty sure I blew through Murakami's "Wind Up Bird Chronicle", which is 600 something pages long, in 3 or 4 days, I was reading that much. That's about it for the day.
Of course, as one might imagine, this was the point in the vacation where I started to get antsy and wanted to do something, rather than just sit and relax. Unfortunately, I was a bit tied down at the moment. Jamie, having found Brits and much more accessible booze, was content to settle down here for the remainder of the trip. He had even stopped whining, well at least about being bored. He was still moaning about those damn mosquito bites. Plus, there was very little to do outside of plopping yourself along the beach at our resort area. So I stayed, for the time being.....
Of course, as one might imagine, this was the point in the vacation where I started to get antsy and wanted to do something, rather than just sit and relax. Unfortunately, I was a bit tied down at the moment. Jamie, having found Brits and much more accessible booze, was content to settle down here for the remainder of the trip. He had even stopped whining, well at least about being bored. He was still moaning about those damn mosquito bites. Plus, there was very little to do outside of plopping yourself along the beach at our resort area. So I stayed, for the time being.....
Thursday August 6th: "But I just wanna talk..." or how Wallin met a prostitute and escaped to tell about it
So, as our first full day at the new digs, Jamie and I had a busy day planned....yeah, right. I did wake up early at least, though that had more to do with the fact that I passed out at 10pm the night before, burned out from too much travel and too many rum and cokes. Obviously, I was the only one up in the group at 6:30am, as everyone else stayed up much later than me and made it a habit of never waking up south of 11, so I amused myself till they all got up. No, not like that (dirty bastards!). I hit the pool for a while. Not much to say about the pool. Umm, it was filled with water and was nice? After reading for a bunch more and grabbing breakfast, the rest of the group joined me in the land of the living. We settled on a trip to the neighboring White Beach some time in the early afternoon.
White Beach was another resort area near our Panagsama Beach, but was a little bit pricier and upscale and actually still had a beach (Panagsama's washed away thanks to all the construction of resorts along the shore). How truly "white" the beach was was clearly up for debate. 20 minutes cruising on the Bat Bikes and we were there. One of the Brits we were hanging out with had been here before and spoke highly of it. Cept he came in January, when it wasn't monsoon season. We had perfect weather, no heavy monsoon rain or anything, but we learned that the currents or winds or something change and thus deposit a whole shit ton of junk along the beach. Also it was high tide, so we had about 4 feet of good beach sand before the line of coconut remnants and then a foot more of beach before you hit the water. The water was lovely and we were enjoying ourselves until we left the water and discovered some presents along the washed up junk. I assume the thought process went something like this: "Hey, that stick looks an awful lot like a syringe! Hey, that is a syringe!" "I found another one!" "Me too!" I could handle the flip-flops and scattered wrapper or so, but multiple syringes (3 to be exact) really took the buzz out of our beach trip, not to mention our concerns with swimming/ walking in the area. We settled for taking in the sea breeze from a local restaurant/bar. We were only too happy to get back to our resort area so we could start doing stuff...or not. More reading, more pool time, more relaxing, more eating.
Now we come to the point in the evening that I'm sure you've all been waiting to read about, namely my encounter(s) with those particular women who work at night and service men (and possibly women, but realistically just men) for money. I had left the bar scene earlier than the rest of the group because I was sick of drinking and losing at pool and was just innocently reading on my balcony when the midnight bell rung. Soon after a woman walked up to my balcony (my balcony overlooks the road that traverses the whole beach) and tried to strike up conversation. "Try" being the key word. Now, I instantly knew what she was looking for, despite having never encountered anyone of her occupation before. Nobody is just randomly walking through the resort area at midnight wearing that much make up and dressed up that nicely. She tried striking up a conversation with me, but she was no match for my awesome (read: hella awkward) social skills around women. I really had zero intention of conversing with her and wasting her time, but I tried to politely tell her to leave, rather than simply telling her to fuck off. I don't understand either. She eventually asked if I spoke English. That's right, my responses were so choppy and strange and unintelligible that she thought I couldn't speak English. That or she thought I was retarded. Soon after she left. Whew. Crisis averted.
But my victory was short lived, as another lady came by soon after and she simply wasn't interested in taking no for an answer. This time I was ready for her, as I had somehow gained some confidence from the previous encounter (again, I don't understand either) regardless of how disastrous it was. This time I politely insisted that I just wanted to read and eventually she went away. I finally understood why Collin swears by the "Stone wall". Not the same circumstances, granted, but it feel damn good to shut her down nonetheless. Satisfying, satisfying.
But still, I was not out of the proverbial woods. After some period of time, the second girl came back again and tried to win herself a sale. At this point it was around 12:30am, I wasn't tired and I was really bored, so I invited her up on the balcony to chat. Yes. You heard right. Look ye one and all upon Eric Wallin, who talks to prostitutes and does nothing else because he doesn't have fuck else to do. Sometimes I amaze myself. I guess I thought the whole thing would be amusing and enlightening. Soon after we began conversing, I realized that this woman was not the Rhodes scholar, Salman Rushdie enthusiast, Ornette Coleman aficionado, or social critic that was forced into this profession due to the deplorable conditions and lack of jobs that I had hoped she would be. Yeah, I set the bar pretty high. To start off, she didn't even get my name right. She kept calling me Sam, which was the name of one of the British fellows. I don't know how they got our names, but I assume it was in cooperation with the bar, as they called Jamie "Jimmy" and nobody did that except for the people at the bar cuz he signed his name on the billiards challenger board as "Jimmy". I didn't bother to correct her, as the whole thing was some amusing little joke to me, I guess. The conversation, if you could call it that, shifted back and forth, from actual talking (or what is commonly referred to as a "conversation") to points where I just stared off in the distance and hoped she would get the message and just leave. I really can't explain why I decided to talk to her in the first place, but as soon as we started conversing, I realized that I just wanted the whole thing to be done with. She really sealed it early on, when she tried to shift the conversation towards discussing my book (a Murakami at the time) and couldn't even pronounce his name correctly. Rule number 1 for getting a literary enthusiast going: You must, must, must pronounce the author's name correctly, or else you are just wasting your time. Learn how to pronounce Dostoevsky, Satre, Murakami and any of the other hard ones. Eventually, the person staying in the cottage next door to me came back from the bar, and the young woman took the opportunity to move the conversation to "quieter" environs, even though outside of the neighbor and his date, there wasn't a soul around. So we moved from the well lit environs of my cabin porch to the considerably less well lit surroundings of the restaurant/bar along the sea. By this time, I had almost completely clocked out on the conversation and really wanted her to go away, so rather than man up and tell her to leave, I went the terribly indirect route of staring off into the gorgeous night and saying not a damn thing to her for minutes on end. In my defense, I'm not really sure what she expects me to say to questions such as "What type of women do you like?" and "What are you thinking right now?". I understand that many people open up and share many private things with prostitutes, but I'm not that desperate that I have to be sharing my darkest secrets with someone I pay to have sex with. Those shall remain in my head for all of my days. It's not like she wasn't good at what she did, though. She put on quite a show. The frequent eye contact, the occasional and slowly increasing physical contact, the various body positionings while we were talking, the self deprecation designed to get the guy coming to her defense and telling her that she's not ugly, not old, etc but really quite beautiful. All professional moves, but to no avail. After some time along the shore, I realized that I had to leave now and quit being polite otherwise I was gonna end up sleeping with this woman solely because I didn't want to offend her by telling her to go away. Yes, I am that pathetic. How did I make my grand escape? Like a smooth motherfucker, obviously. I abruptly stood up in the midst of our "conversation", pushed in my car, stammered something like "Ummm, this was nice and all, but....uhhhhh....I'm tired and I have to go to bed now....Bye" and then ran away quite quickly. Like I said. Smooth. Like a god damn pimp. When Jamie got back, he dealt with the ladies in a different manner. He asked one of the girls if she could go get him some smokes, then when she returned he promptly paid her and then shut the door in her face. I believe he took the direct approach. Different strokes for different folks. Final Tally: Packs of cigarettes (1), Hours Wasted (1.5), Sexual Intercourse (zilch). Looks like somebody pitched a shutout. Nice.
Pics: Album 1, Pictures 84-112
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cw2-VG43bPc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akyQ8cj6t-8
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89t1bpgKv8k
White Beach was another resort area near our Panagsama Beach, but was a little bit pricier and upscale and actually still had a beach (Panagsama's washed away thanks to all the construction of resorts along the shore). How truly "white" the beach was was clearly up for debate. 20 minutes cruising on the Bat Bikes and we were there. One of the Brits we were hanging out with had been here before and spoke highly of it. Cept he came in January, when it wasn't monsoon season. We had perfect weather, no heavy monsoon rain or anything, but we learned that the currents or winds or something change and thus deposit a whole shit ton of junk along the beach. Also it was high tide, so we had about 4 feet of good beach sand before the line of coconut remnants and then a foot more of beach before you hit the water. The water was lovely and we were enjoying ourselves until we left the water and discovered some presents along the washed up junk. I assume the thought process went something like this: "Hey, that stick looks an awful lot like a syringe! Hey, that is a syringe!" "I found another one!" "Me too!" I could handle the flip-flops and scattered wrapper or so, but multiple syringes (3 to be exact) really took the buzz out of our beach trip, not to mention our concerns with swimming/ walking in the area. We settled for taking in the sea breeze from a local restaurant/bar. We were only too happy to get back to our resort area so we could start doing stuff...or not. More reading, more pool time, more relaxing, more eating.
Now we come to the point in the evening that I'm sure you've all been waiting to read about, namely my encounter(s) with those particular women who work at night and service men (and possibly women, but realistically just men) for money. I had left the bar scene earlier than the rest of the group because I was sick of drinking and losing at pool and was just innocently reading on my balcony when the midnight bell rung. Soon after a woman walked up to my balcony (my balcony overlooks the road that traverses the whole beach) and tried to strike up conversation. "Try" being the key word. Now, I instantly knew what she was looking for, despite having never encountered anyone of her occupation before. Nobody is just randomly walking through the resort area at midnight wearing that much make up and dressed up that nicely. She tried striking up a conversation with me, but she was no match for my awesome (read: hella awkward) social skills around women. I really had zero intention of conversing with her and wasting her time, but I tried to politely tell her to leave, rather than simply telling her to fuck off. I don't understand either. She eventually asked if I spoke English. That's right, my responses were so choppy and strange and unintelligible that she thought I couldn't speak English. That or she thought I was retarded. Soon after she left. Whew. Crisis averted.
But my victory was short lived, as another lady came by soon after and she simply wasn't interested in taking no for an answer. This time I was ready for her, as I had somehow gained some confidence from the previous encounter (again, I don't understand either) regardless of how disastrous it was. This time I politely insisted that I just wanted to read and eventually she went away. I finally understood why Collin swears by the "Stone wall". Not the same circumstances, granted, but it feel damn good to shut her down nonetheless. Satisfying, satisfying.
But still, I was not out of the proverbial woods. After some period of time, the second girl came back again and tried to win herself a sale. At this point it was around 12:30am, I wasn't tired and I was really bored, so I invited her up on the balcony to chat. Yes. You heard right. Look ye one and all upon Eric Wallin, who talks to prostitutes and does nothing else because he doesn't have fuck else to do. Sometimes I amaze myself. I guess I thought the whole thing would be amusing and enlightening. Soon after we began conversing, I realized that this woman was not the Rhodes scholar, Salman Rushdie enthusiast, Ornette Coleman aficionado, or social critic that was forced into this profession due to the deplorable conditions and lack of jobs that I had hoped she would be. Yeah, I set the bar pretty high. To start off, she didn't even get my name right. She kept calling me Sam, which was the name of one of the British fellows. I don't know how they got our names, but I assume it was in cooperation with the bar, as they called Jamie "Jimmy" and nobody did that except for the people at the bar cuz he signed his name on the billiards challenger board as "Jimmy". I didn't bother to correct her, as the whole thing was some amusing little joke to me, I guess. The conversation, if you could call it that, shifted back and forth, from actual talking (or what is commonly referred to as a "conversation") to points where I just stared off in the distance and hoped she would get the message and just leave. I really can't explain why I decided to talk to her in the first place, but as soon as we started conversing, I realized that I just wanted the whole thing to be done with. She really sealed it early on, when she tried to shift the conversation towards discussing my book (a Murakami at the time) and couldn't even pronounce his name correctly. Rule number 1 for getting a literary enthusiast going: You must, must, must pronounce the author's name correctly, or else you are just wasting your time. Learn how to pronounce Dostoevsky, Satre, Murakami and any of the other hard ones. Eventually, the person staying in the cottage next door to me came back from the bar, and the young woman took the opportunity to move the conversation to "quieter" environs, even though outside of the neighbor and his date, there wasn't a soul around. So we moved from the well lit environs of my cabin porch to the considerably less well lit surroundings of the restaurant/bar along the sea. By this time, I had almost completely clocked out on the conversation and really wanted her to go away, so rather than man up and tell her to leave, I went the terribly indirect route of staring off into the gorgeous night and saying not a damn thing to her for minutes on end. In my defense, I'm not really sure what she expects me to say to questions such as "What type of women do you like?" and "What are you thinking right now?". I understand that many people open up and share many private things with prostitutes, but I'm not that desperate that I have to be sharing my darkest secrets with someone I pay to have sex with. Those shall remain in my head for all of my days. It's not like she wasn't good at what she did, though. She put on quite a show. The frequent eye contact, the occasional and slowly increasing physical contact, the various body positionings while we were talking, the self deprecation designed to get the guy coming to her defense and telling her that she's not ugly, not old, etc but really quite beautiful. All professional moves, but to no avail. After some time along the shore, I realized that I had to leave now and quit being polite otherwise I was gonna end up sleeping with this woman solely because I didn't want to offend her by telling her to go away. Yes, I am that pathetic. How did I make my grand escape? Like a smooth motherfucker, obviously. I abruptly stood up in the midst of our "conversation", pushed in my car, stammered something like "Ummm, this was nice and all, but....uhhhhh....I'm tired and I have to go to bed now....Bye" and then ran away quite quickly. Like I said. Smooth. Like a god damn pimp. When Jamie got back, he dealt with the ladies in a different manner. He asked one of the girls if she could go get him some smokes, then when she returned he promptly paid her and then shut the door in her face. I believe he took the direct approach. Different strokes for different folks. Final Tally: Packs of cigarettes (1), Hours Wasted (1.5), Sexual Intercourse (zilch). Looks like somebody pitched a shutout. Nice.
Pics: Album 1, Pictures 84-112
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cw2-VG43bPc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akyQ8cj6t-8
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89t1bpgKv8k
Wednesday, August 5: Buses, Buses, Buses!!!
One of the few things I actually didn't like about the Philippines was its lack of infrastructure and accessible transportation (obviously I've been spoiled by my time in Korea), meaning that when you wanna travel it takes a long, long time. This was our dilemma as we parted from Malapasca Island. In order to arrive at Moalboal, our next destination and near the south coast of Cebu, at anywhere near a respectable hour, we decided to depart from Malapasca on the 6:30am bangka. Early, I know, but it had to be done. 8-9 hours later (30 minutes to shore, 5 hours by bus to Cebu, 10 minute taxi between bus terminals, then another 3 hour bus ride to Moalboal), we arrived near our destination. Now anywhere else that much transportation would be pretty penny, but since it was the Philippines we paid 10 bucks (2, 2, 3, and 3, respectively). The funny thing is you get used to the really cheap prices and throw a shit fit over having to pay 5 bucks for a 3 hour bus ride instead of 3 bucks by the end of your trip. Nothing too crazy to report from the bus ride. My legs hurt from 8 hours of being driven into the seat in front of me, which I expected. Jamie nearly wandered off onto a jeepney going in who knows what direction, but that was also expected. Overall, the trip went incredibly quickly given all we had to see. Hell, I probably could have spent another 8-9 hours staring at all the fields, rice patties, valleys, mountains, villages, etc.
Now on to Moalboal. Now, Moalboal itself was not where we intended to stay, and with good reason. It was run down, dumpy, dirty and had absolutely nothing to do. Our true destination were the resorts and beaches outside of town, alongside the coast. We just had to get there. Time to call on the Bat Bike. Or that's what it felt like. This was my first time taking the motorcycle with passenger side car mode of transportation, but I liked it. I couldn't help but feel like Burt Ward (Robin actor from the original Batman TV show for you non-nerds) racing to combat crime, even though my knees were again smashing into the wall in front, the bike was only going about 10 mph in order to navigate the massive potholes, and I didn't have a weird, homo erotic relationship with my Batman, the middle aged Filipino driver (yet). Soon we arrived at Panagsama Beach, where all the resorts are situated. Our driver quickly directed us to a fairly nice resort, and we quickly scooped up the room when we found that all the nice amenities came for only 22 bucks a night (and we shared a room, so it came to 11 bucks a person). Again, the pictures will do a better job of showcasing what we had to work with. For 22 bucks a night, we had a single bed and double, tiled floor with fans and AC, nice bathroom, electricity 24 hours a day, a cozy little balcony, a pool across the street and the resort's restaurant/bar across the street as well. Not bad at all. After taking it all in, we moved to the restaurant/bar for some much needed refreshments and who should we meet but Graham, our old buddy.
Well, not really old buddy. Graham was a tourist who we happened to chat with at breakfast one day while still in Malapasca. He is originally from Scotland, but has been teaching English in Turkey for the last 12 years. Given how much we teachers in Korea hate our jobs on certain days, we are always curious about pay, working conditions, etc. for English teachers in other countries. He was on vacation with 2 fellow British Isle teacher buddies working in Istanbul and their Turkish friend. Jamie was in heaven, finding some true blue Brits after a year of associating with primarily dirty Americans in which to talk about British things, like British bands that no American has ever heard of (probably with good reason), cricket, rugby, and snooker (a crazy British billards-like game). Exciting. They also enjoyed making fun of my improper English ("Hey Eric, what do you call the stuff you put on a sandwich with jam?" "What, peanut budder?" "No, I think you mean peanut butt-er. hahahahaha" ouch, that hurts). I was most interested in the teaching situation in Istanbul. The group really seemed to enjoy working in Istanbul, as 2 had been in Istanbul for 12 years and were married, while the other had been there for 3 years and was planning on staying. In general, their job situation seemed to be the same in regards to the job, the pay, the vacation, and the living arrangements in the country. However, it did sound like Istanbul is more open and accepting of foreigners than Korea, at least at this point. Both Jamie and I were very interested in giving it a shot, Jamie possibly next year and myself further down the road. Regardless, they offered to hook us up with jobs were we to ever try Turkey. Not a bad fall back plan, if I do say so. Kicks the shit out of "Uhhhhhh, I don't know. Live in my parents basement?" as an option if I didn't get the Seoul job. Not surprisingly we spent the rest of the evening playing pool and drinking at the bars nearby. It's hard, but somebody's gotta do it and then brag to their friends back home about it. Have no fear, I will be that guy.
Pics: Album 1, Pictures 66-83 (Resort pics attached to next post)
Now on to Moalboal. Now, Moalboal itself was not where we intended to stay, and with good reason. It was run down, dumpy, dirty and had absolutely nothing to do. Our true destination were the resorts and beaches outside of town, alongside the coast. We just had to get there. Time to call on the Bat Bike. Or that's what it felt like. This was my first time taking the motorcycle with passenger side car mode of transportation, but I liked it. I couldn't help but feel like Burt Ward (Robin actor from the original Batman TV show for you non-nerds) racing to combat crime, even though my knees were again smashing into the wall in front, the bike was only going about 10 mph in order to navigate the massive potholes, and I didn't have a weird, homo erotic relationship with my Batman, the middle aged Filipino driver (yet). Soon we arrived at Panagsama Beach, where all the resorts are situated. Our driver quickly directed us to a fairly nice resort, and we quickly scooped up the room when we found that all the nice amenities came for only 22 bucks a night (and we shared a room, so it came to 11 bucks a person). Again, the pictures will do a better job of showcasing what we had to work with. For 22 bucks a night, we had a single bed and double, tiled floor with fans and AC, nice bathroom, electricity 24 hours a day, a cozy little balcony, a pool across the street and the resort's restaurant/bar across the street as well. Not bad at all. After taking it all in, we moved to the restaurant/bar for some much needed refreshments and who should we meet but Graham, our old buddy.
Well, not really old buddy. Graham was a tourist who we happened to chat with at breakfast one day while still in Malapasca. He is originally from Scotland, but has been teaching English in Turkey for the last 12 years. Given how much we teachers in Korea hate our jobs on certain days, we are always curious about pay, working conditions, etc. for English teachers in other countries. He was on vacation with 2 fellow British Isle teacher buddies working in Istanbul and their Turkish friend. Jamie was in heaven, finding some true blue Brits after a year of associating with primarily dirty Americans in which to talk about British things, like British bands that no American has ever heard of (probably with good reason), cricket, rugby, and snooker (a crazy British billards-like game). Exciting. They also enjoyed making fun of my improper English ("Hey Eric, what do you call the stuff you put on a sandwich with jam?" "What, peanut budder?" "No, I think you mean peanut butt-er. hahahahaha" ouch, that hurts). I was most interested in the teaching situation in Istanbul. The group really seemed to enjoy working in Istanbul, as 2 had been in Istanbul for 12 years and were married, while the other had been there for 3 years and was planning on staying. In general, their job situation seemed to be the same in regards to the job, the pay, the vacation, and the living arrangements in the country. However, it did sound like Istanbul is more open and accepting of foreigners than Korea, at least at this point. Both Jamie and I were very interested in giving it a shot, Jamie possibly next year and myself further down the road. Regardless, they offered to hook us up with jobs were we to ever try Turkey. Not a bad fall back plan, if I do say so. Kicks the shit out of "Uhhhhhh, I don't know. Live in my parents basement?" as an option if I didn't get the Seoul job. Not surprisingly we spent the rest of the evening playing pool and drinking at the bars nearby. It's hard, but somebody's gotta do it and then brag to their friends back home about it. Have no fear, I will be that guy.
Pics: Album 1, Pictures 66-83 (Resort pics attached to next post)
Now for something completely different
Well, as a break from vacation recounting, lets discuss the massive changes to yours truly's life since coming back from vacation. And as I'm currently writing this from inside a massive apartment in a quiet area of Seoul (not an oxymoron, I swear) with a good looking job, it would appear that a great many things have indeed changed.
But before I could move into the new job in Seoul, I had to vacate the one in the sticks. Surprisingly, the transition went quite smoothly. The drama, for once, wasn't involving them. Right before I left for Japan, I received a letter from my recruiter who was desperately trying to get a hold of me (on vacation for two weeks with sparse internet, which he did know beforehand) because my application process was on hold because I hadn't submitted a letter of release and proof of employment yet. Cept on the application paperwork it said that those particular documents weren't due until the first paycheck for my new job. So I naturally started to worry until the next day or so (the recruiter mailed the letter on the 14th, I received it on the 16th and got his email on the 17th), when I checked email at Collin's place to find out that, ohhh, the recruiter just called up my school and asked them to fax it over. Face. Desk. Thud. Problem solved. Well, until I arrived home Sunday night to read on the Korea blogs that SMOE (my employer) had just cut 100 jobs out of 600 fall positions as of last Wednesday without much rhyme or reason. Naturally, I was really worried and pissed about the late notice (I don't like 1 in 6 odds). I emailed the recruiter as fast as possible to get a response and he said Monday morning that he was sure that my job was secure, but that I should call SMOE to be sure. Well, when I arrived home Monday evening and turned on my phone to call the SMOE lady, I was bombarded with several text messages from my recruiter. One that I read said "Job cannot be secured. Call SMOE." I freaked out, naturally. Thought about calling our contacts in Istanbul for a possible job there, if I really was sunk here in Seoul. I turned on my PC to check my email and saw that the recruiter had sent a message. This message said "If you don't call SMOE by tomorrow morning, then the job cannot be secured." What the recruiter had done was break up his e-mail into 3 separate texts and sent them. They just were separated in a way that ended up giving me a heart attack. Christ.
So I called SMOE and yes, my job was safe but I had to get my ass into Seoul to do contract signing stuff and visa extension, as I was illegally in Korea as of that Saturday. She was upset that she can never get in touch with me (sorry, its the boonies...we don't get phone reception at work) and told me that I should have scheduled my vacation better. I understand her frustration at not being able to contact me, but my hands were tied. Available weeks for vacation: 3. Weeks of vacation left: 3. Not much wiggle room. Now, I was obviously concerned with being allowed to leave school early on my last and second to last day, as I had asked to leave early once during the whole rest of the year. To my shock, they let me go with no hassle. Maybe since they couldn't squeeze anything more out of me, there was no use in being douchey about stuff. Who knows? Anyways, after 3 hours at immigration and a trip to the SMOE office I was all signed sealed and delivered to the big city.
The last day was a tough one though. Didn't think I'd be sad to leave, but those kids, they get to ya. Both of the older grades gave me little thank you and goodbye messages as well as flowers. The 7th graders went above and beyond, but they are like that. After I had said goodbye to them in English class, they pulled me into their Korean class and presented me with a mini cake, lots of party streamers and confetti and stuff, free hugs from any students brave enough to come on up (I had to bend down quite a bit for some of the little ones), and a short rendition of The Beatles "Yesterday", which they wanted me to finish for them (I had 'em swooning by the end"). Man, that was a good bunch of kids. Some of my favorites from their messages, 7th and 8th graders combined: "Goodbye my love, now send to Seoul. Oh ~ shit! Don't forget me! I can get you ~ haha sorry kidding. You are a very good and funny teather. I can't forget you! than good bye ~ hot pink~ (weird kid, I think the hot pink reference was to the color he wrote it in). "Hey. I sent an e-mail to you. you must send back to me. OK? you must give me your picture. I'll send my recorded voice. I'm a genius. P.S. Thank you for teaching bad words." ("The student" of whom much has been said. I think I'm okay with my legacy being the corrupter of young minds. Besides, now the children can swear effectively in Korean, English and Spanish. Broadening cultural horizons) "I remember you. You are very sexy!" (a male student....ohhhh Korea) "Good luck ~ Seoul is Hell. Here is good. Why go?" (Pretty much encapsulates the students feelings). Sadness all around, but I promised to come back and visit in October, so I will see the little buggers again.
Moving Day. My moving day was hectic to say the least. I decided I would further complicate it by traveling to 25 minutes away by car to watch a soccer tourney with Amy that her quasi-boyfriend was playing in. His tiny little town got smashed 5-0. I also happened to run into the soccer squad from town and they weren't terribly pleased that I had completely stopped playing soccer. I don't think I ever fully explained to the gym teacher why I stopped doing soccer and thus he didn't give them a very good explanation. But being the amiable group they are, they still fed me food and booze with the intention of getting me drunk at 10 in the morning. The strangest moment came when the "Casanova", the guy who ohhhh so long ago wanted to have the penis contest and who demonstrated that his cock was as thick as his arm, came over and just grabbed my junk. No accidental, went to grab for something else, and slipped or something. He just grabbed my crotch. I don't understand. Though I do find it quite funny that for as homophobic and anti-gay as Korea claims to be, they seem to have a lot of straight up gay behavior. Maybe someday they will step outside themselves and realize just how hypocritical they are. But the same could be said for everyone.
Once the game was over, I, with assistance, hailed a taxi back to Yangpyeong by noon. Giving me a total of 1 hour to pack up until the gym teacher arrived to collect the key and phone. Smooth move Eric. In the end, the gym teacher showed up quite late and I was moving like a mother fucker. Total time from absolutely nothing packed at noon to moving out: 2 hours and 30 minutes. Beat that. Course I only had to watch the stuff 2 minutes away to Jethro's apartment where I was holding it for the time being. With everything packed up, it was on to Seoul to rendezvous with the new co-teacher. When I did finally did meet her, I was shocked. Young, attractive, friendly, pretty good English, and easy to talk to. I've met the yin to my former teacher's yang. Her perfect opposite. Just lucky that I would get both. I think I will enjoy working with the new girl. My apartment was in the Southwest of Seoul, but only 20 minutes or so from the major central areas, so no complaints on the area. We chose to take a taxi from the subway to the apartment, even though it was only a 20 minute walk. Yup, 20 minute walk from apartment door to subway. 5-10 minute bus ride from subway to school, which run every couple of minutes. 12 minutes by subway to my capoeira area. 30-40 minutes to my Korean class. Can't ask for much more in location. Then we got to the complex. Wow. Wow. Wow. Now, apparently my school was unable to find an apartment for me, and that's a good thing because I was placed in the dormitory at the Seoul Teachers Training Institute, a complex where Seoul Teachers come to attend workshops, especially for English teaching, as there are several Foreign Teachers who work here teaching teachers. Now, for once in my life, luck was on my side. Not only did I not get my job canceled, but I ended up at the dormitory that only a handful of people get into. Like 20 or so out of several hundred. Let's describe the complex. As you enter you see a full sized grass field for whatever you want (after a year in Korea you would appreciate a legitimate green lawn too), and a swimming pool that is available to use (for a small fee). After moving beyond all the various office buildings you find the dormitory, which houses a legitimate laundry room (washers and dryers!!!!! hooray), a rec room with a ping pong table and pool table, a small fitness room with a decent amount of equipment, and a computer room with free internet (too bad the other wankers living here are always one, so I've yet to actually use it). The apartment itself: massive, compared with my previous apartment and our living conditions back in Madison. Big living room with TV, small stereo system, desktop computer, sofa, and plenty of shelves/bookcases/storage. The kitchen? Kitchen table for 4, monster refrigerator, and more cupboard space then I could possibly use. The there's the bedroom with its massive wardrobes and American (aka soft) mattress. Ohhh did I mention there is a freaking mountain right next door. Yep, 2 minutes walk and I've got all the hiking trails and nature I could possibly want. Plus, I actually get to see tons of green looking out my window. And I can't hear anything but crickets and cicadas. I'll get pictures up soon when I actually retrieve my camera from Jethros.
Having seen the apartment, the co-teacher showed me around to try and find some groceries. 5 or so minutes walk in the opposite direction that we arrived and we hit a major row of apartments and stuff. Thanks to the nearby apartments, the area boasts just about everything I'll need. Small grocery store, video rental store, screen golf, plenty of restaurants (there is a "French" restaurant there and I must try it to see just how bad it might be), plenty of bars, plenty of "barber shops" (wink), post office, cafes and whatever else I may need. I found out that were I to ever get really lazy, my grocery store delivers in case I can't possibly carry the carton of milk the whole 10 minutes. My co-teacher was shocked that I was carrying the groceries home. She seems to be easily impressed with even the slightest feat of strength, toughness, endurance, etc. Which I guess is good because I'm being told I should sleep with her. Namely because she is attractive and speaks English, which says a lot for my standards if that's all it takes. Once we parted ways, it was back to Yangpyeong to pick up the next load of stuff. Moving sucks alot when you have no car to use and have to go from apartment to bus station, ride bus to Seoul, carry it down and through and on and then out of the subway, then back to the apartment. One load of shit on Saturday and 2 on Sunday and I was nearly done, but rather tired.
Finally we come to my new school, Namseong Elementary School. 20 minute walk down the hill to the subway, then 10 minute bus and I'm there. If I ever feel lazy, I can catch a shuttle bus that runs every few minutes between the complex and the subway. The school itself is built on a hill that gives a really cool view over a part of the city. Don't worry I'll take a pic. The school itself is old and cramped, but they are building a new one right behind it, which I'm told we will move into next year. My vice principal and principal are both friendly and lovely older ladies, but I'm afraid their eyesight seems to be very lousy, as they kept talking about how handsome I was. As for the fellow teachers in the office....all ladies. Seems like I'm one of the only sausages at the party. Ohh darn. Now who am I gonna get way too drunk at all the school functions with, sing with increasing volume and decreasing skill, then interact awkwardly with all the still sober female teachers? Shucks. School functions are just not going to be any fun any more. My school was quick to ask me the most pressing of questions, namely if I was married. which coupled with their interest in whether I thought my co-teacher was beautiful, does make you wonder their intentions for me. Is it just me or do you hear the girls from Anatevka singing "Matchmaker, Matchmaker"? Maybe its just me. Overall, everyone seems very friendly and less serious (maybe cuz its elementary school) than the previous school, I only meet each class once a week (so I should only have to design one lesson plan a week for each of the 4 grades I teach), and both of my co-teachers seem like they will be fun to work with. We shall see.
No Pics at present, but soon. Soon!
But before I could move into the new job in Seoul, I had to vacate the one in the sticks. Surprisingly, the transition went quite smoothly. The drama, for once, wasn't involving them. Right before I left for Japan, I received a letter from my recruiter who was desperately trying to get a hold of me (on vacation for two weeks with sparse internet, which he did know beforehand) because my application process was on hold because I hadn't submitted a letter of release and proof of employment yet. Cept on the application paperwork it said that those particular documents weren't due until the first paycheck for my new job. So I naturally started to worry until the next day or so (the recruiter mailed the letter on the 14th, I received it on the 16th and got his email on the 17th), when I checked email at Collin's place to find out that, ohhh, the recruiter just called up my school and asked them to fax it over. Face. Desk. Thud. Problem solved. Well, until I arrived home Sunday night to read on the Korea blogs that SMOE (my employer) had just cut 100 jobs out of 600 fall positions as of last Wednesday without much rhyme or reason. Naturally, I was really worried and pissed about the late notice (I don't like 1 in 6 odds). I emailed the recruiter as fast as possible to get a response and he said Monday morning that he was sure that my job was secure, but that I should call SMOE to be sure. Well, when I arrived home Monday evening and turned on my phone to call the SMOE lady, I was bombarded with several text messages from my recruiter. One that I read said "Job cannot be secured. Call SMOE." I freaked out, naturally. Thought about calling our contacts in Istanbul for a possible job there, if I really was sunk here in Seoul. I turned on my PC to check my email and saw that the recruiter had sent a message. This message said "If you don't call SMOE by tomorrow morning, then the job cannot be secured." What the recruiter had done was break up his e-mail into 3 separate texts and sent them. They just were separated in a way that ended up giving me a heart attack. Christ.
So I called SMOE and yes, my job was safe but I had to get my ass into Seoul to do contract signing stuff and visa extension, as I was illegally in Korea as of that Saturday. She was upset that she can never get in touch with me (sorry, its the boonies...we don't get phone reception at work) and told me that I should have scheduled my vacation better. I understand her frustration at not being able to contact me, but my hands were tied. Available weeks for vacation: 3. Weeks of vacation left: 3. Not much wiggle room. Now, I was obviously concerned with being allowed to leave school early on my last and second to last day, as I had asked to leave early once during the whole rest of the year. To my shock, they let me go with no hassle. Maybe since they couldn't squeeze anything more out of me, there was no use in being douchey about stuff. Who knows? Anyways, after 3 hours at immigration and a trip to the SMOE office I was all signed sealed and delivered to the big city.
The last day was a tough one though. Didn't think I'd be sad to leave, but those kids, they get to ya. Both of the older grades gave me little thank you and goodbye messages as well as flowers. The 7th graders went above and beyond, but they are like that. After I had said goodbye to them in English class, they pulled me into their Korean class and presented me with a mini cake, lots of party streamers and confetti and stuff, free hugs from any students brave enough to come on up (I had to bend down quite a bit for some of the little ones), and a short rendition of The Beatles "Yesterday", which they wanted me to finish for them (I had 'em swooning by the end"). Man, that was a good bunch of kids. Some of my favorites from their messages, 7th and 8th graders combined: "Goodbye my love, now send to Seoul. Oh ~ shit! Don't forget me! I can get you ~ haha sorry kidding. You are a very good and funny teather. I can't forget you! than good bye ~ hot pink~ (weird kid, I think the hot pink reference was to the color he wrote it in). "Hey. I sent an e-mail to you. you must send back to me. OK? you must give me your picture. I'll send my recorded voice. I'm a genius. P.S. Thank you for teaching bad words." ("The student" of whom much has been said. I think I'm okay with my legacy being the corrupter of young minds. Besides, now the children can swear effectively in Korean, English and Spanish. Broadening cultural horizons) "I remember you. You are very sexy!" (a male student....ohhhh Korea) "Good luck ~ Seoul is Hell. Here is good. Why go?" (Pretty much encapsulates the students feelings). Sadness all around, but I promised to come back and visit in October, so I will see the little buggers again.
Moving Day. My moving day was hectic to say the least. I decided I would further complicate it by traveling to 25 minutes away by car to watch a soccer tourney with Amy that her quasi-boyfriend was playing in. His tiny little town got smashed 5-0. I also happened to run into the soccer squad from town and they weren't terribly pleased that I had completely stopped playing soccer. I don't think I ever fully explained to the gym teacher why I stopped doing soccer and thus he didn't give them a very good explanation. But being the amiable group they are, they still fed me food and booze with the intention of getting me drunk at 10 in the morning. The strangest moment came when the "Casanova", the guy who ohhhh so long ago wanted to have the penis contest and who demonstrated that his cock was as thick as his arm, came over and just grabbed my junk. No accidental, went to grab for something else, and slipped or something. He just grabbed my crotch. I don't understand. Though I do find it quite funny that for as homophobic and anti-gay as Korea claims to be, they seem to have a lot of straight up gay behavior. Maybe someday they will step outside themselves and realize just how hypocritical they are. But the same could be said for everyone.
Once the game was over, I, with assistance, hailed a taxi back to Yangpyeong by noon. Giving me a total of 1 hour to pack up until the gym teacher arrived to collect the key and phone. Smooth move Eric. In the end, the gym teacher showed up quite late and I was moving like a mother fucker. Total time from absolutely nothing packed at noon to moving out: 2 hours and 30 minutes. Beat that. Course I only had to watch the stuff 2 minutes away to Jethro's apartment where I was holding it for the time being. With everything packed up, it was on to Seoul to rendezvous with the new co-teacher. When I did finally did meet her, I was shocked. Young, attractive, friendly, pretty good English, and easy to talk to. I've met the yin to my former teacher's yang. Her perfect opposite. Just lucky that I would get both. I think I will enjoy working with the new girl. My apartment was in the Southwest of Seoul, but only 20 minutes or so from the major central areas, so no complaints on the area. We chose to take a taxi from the subway to the apartment, even though it was only a 20 minute walk. Yup, 20 minute walk from apartment door to subway. 5-10 minute bus ride from subway to school, which run every couple of minutes. 12 minutes by subway to my capoeira area. 30-40 minutes to my Korean class. Can't ask for much more in location. Then we got to the complex. Wow. Wow. Wow. Now, apparently my school was unable to find an apartment for me, and that's a good thing because I was placed in the dormitory at the Seoul Teachers Training Institute, a complex where Seoul Teachers come to attend workshops, especially for English teaching, as there are several Foreign Teachers who work here teaching teachers. Now, for once in my life, luck was on my side. Not only did I not get my job canceled, but I ended up at the dormitory that only a handful of people get into. Like 20 or so out of several hundred. Let's describe the complex. As you enter you see a full sized grass field for whatever you want (after a year in Korea you would appreciate a legitimate green lawn too), and a swimming pool that is available to use (for a small fee). After moving beyond all the various office buildings you find the dormitory, which houses a legitimate laundry room (washers and dryers!!!!! hooray), a rec room with a ping pong table and pool table, a small fitness room with a decent amount of equipment, and a computer room with free internet (too bad the other wankers living here are always one, so I've yet to actually use it). The apartment itself: massive, compared with my previous apartment and our living conditions back in Madison. Big living room with TV, small stereo system, desktop computer, sofa, and plenty of shelves/bookcases/storage. The kitchen? Kitchen table for 4, monster refrigerator, and more cupboard space then I could possibly use. The there's the bedroom with its massive wardrobes and American (aka soft) mattress. Ohhh did I mention there is a freaking mountain right next door. Yep, 2 minutes walk and I've got all the hiking trails and nature I could possibly want. Plus, I actually get to see tons of green looking out my window. And I can't hear anything but crickets and cicadas. I'll get pictures up soon when I actually retrieve my camera from Jethros.
Having seen the apartment, the co-teacher showed me around to try and find some groceries. 5 or so minutes walk in the opposite direction that we arrived and we hit a major row of apartments and stuff. Thanks to the nearby apartments, the area boasts just about everything I'll need. Small grocery store, video rental store, screen golf, plenty of restaurants (there is a "French" restaurant there and I must try it to see just how bad it might be), plenty of bars, plenty of "barber shops" (wink), post office, cafes and whatever else I may need. I found out that were I to ever get really lazy, my grocery store delivers in case I can't possibly carry the carton of milk the whole 10 minutes. My co-teacher was shocked that I was carrying the groceries home. She seems to be easily impressed with even the slightest feat of strength, toughness, endurance, etc. Which I guess is good because I'm being told I should sleep with her. Namely because she is attractive and speaks English, which says a lot for my standards if that's all it takes. Once we parted ways, it was back to Yangpyeong to pick up the next load of stuff. Moving sucks alot when you have no car to use and have to go from apartment to bus station, ride bus to Seoul, carry it down and through and on and then out of the subway, then back to the apartment. One load of shit on Saturday and 2 on Sunday and I was nearly done, but rather tired.
Finally we come to my new school, Namseong Elementary School. 20 minute walk down the hill to the subway, then 10 minute bus and I'm there. If I ever feel lazy, I can catch a shuttle bus that runs every few minutes between the complex and the subway. The school itself is built on a hill that gives a really cool view over a part of the city. Don't worry I'll take a pic. The school itself is old and cramped, but they are building a new one right behind it, which I'm told we will move into next year. My vice principal and principal are both friendly and lovely older ladies, but I'm afraid their eyesight seems to be very lousy, as they kept talking about how handsome I was. As for the fellow teachers in the office....all ladies. Seems like I'm one of the only sausages at the party. Ohh darn. Now who am I gonna get way too drunk at all the school functions with, sing with increasing volume and decreasing skill, then interact awkwardly with all the still sober female teachers? Shucks. School functions are just not going to be any fun any more. My school was quick to ask me the most pressing of questions, namely if I was married. which coupled with their interest in whether I thought my co-teacher was beautiful, does make you wonder their intentions for me. Is it just me or do you hear the girls from Anatevka singing "Matchmaker, Matchmaker"? Maybe its just me. Overall, everyone seems very friendly and less serious (maybe cuz its elementary school) than the previous school, I only meet each class once a week (so I should only have to design one lesson plan a week for each of the 4 grades I teach), and both of my co-teachers seem like they will be fun to work with. We shall see.
No Pics at present, but soon. Soon!
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