Jarasum Jazz Festival Epic Fail

You know how I ended the last post optimistic about the wondrous possibilities of the upcoming jazz festival after the disappointment that was the film festival? And how I just asked that it not rain? Well….it rained. Fucking hell. If I believed in God, I would have pinned this on his ass, but since I don’t, I’ve got no one to blame.

Anyways, the rain wasn’t the only fail of the evening, as many other factors contributed to keep me from heading out for the tunes. But lets start from the beginning. The Jarasum Jazz Festival is an annual music festival that runs from Friday through Sunday in the small town of Gapyeong, about 1.5 hours northeast of Seoul. I had originally planned to go and spend most, if not all the day there on Saturday, and perhaps come back on Sunday. Now the ideal situation would have been to go Friday night, get a hotel and stay all the way through Sunday. However (here’s fail #1) since I only found out about the existence of this festival 2 weeks ago, and Gapyeong is a pretty small town that doesn’t figure to have much for hotels (even of the sleazy love variety), and I have no idea how to find the contact numbers of said hotels without major assistance from the co-teacher (who I don’t like to bother with shit like this), I figured there was about a 0% chance of there still be hotels available. As a result, I decided to just spend most of the day there, then try and swing an expensive cab back to Seoul or to a relatively nearby town. Last minute other plans combined to form fail #2. First, I found out capoeira was having a demo at 2pm on Sunday and they really needed people, so there goes listening to jazz on Sunday. Then I found out that Chris would be leaving us to travel back home for at least 2 months, so naturally I had to stay and say goodbye to the fella, so Saturday was out. This left me with Friday night to work with, and given how tight of a schedule I was working with, I was just asking for epic failure.

The new plan called for me to leave Seoul immediately after work, which ends at 5pm, grab some shit from home, hop a bus to Gapyeong and hopefully arrive somewhere around 7:30-8pm, just in time for the main stage acts to start. Once the main stage acts ended at 11:30pm, I would then decide how and if I was gonna go home. Everything went accordingly to plan until I got to the bus station. Now, I chose bus over train, as it runs 3 times an hour instead of just 1, the bus station is about 30 minutes closer to home than the train station, and bus tickets are sold as first come first serve. Now, as the bus people knew that this festival is kind of a big deal, and there’s lots of traffic going there, etc, etc, I just figured that they would have a bunch more buses running to keep up with the excess demand (epic fail #3). Hahahahahahahahah. That would be logical, and the past year has already proven that Korea is anything but logical. Well, I showed up to the bus loading area and found out I was person #200 and something (just a guess) waiting for the bus to Gapyeong. Now, I waited for 40 minutes thinking that they were gonna get these buses rolling soon, right? Wrong. In that whole time I saw 3 buses leave, which was how many they normally have leave. Since the line didn’t seem to have moved at all in 40 minutes, I began entertaining the notion of just leaving and going home. Every minute I waited was one less at the concert. Already, I was looking at being able to make only the last half of the main stage acts, if I had left at that exact moment. I was waffling back and forth until finally the rain came (epic fail #4) and decided everything quite easily.

Now, I had checked the forecast early in the afternoon and it had said a 20% chance of rain for the evening, which was nothing like the super severe weather, pounding rain and nasty wind that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Again, had I believed in God, I would have assumed that the big guy really, really didn’t want me to go to this festival. Sure I touch myself a bunch, but geez God, cut a guy a break. I’m lonely. Since I obviously don’t believe in a higher power, I’ll just have to assume I’m really, really unlucky.

The evening didn’t turn out so bad, as I met up with Chris and we enjoyed a few beers and the lovely views in the upscale Gangnam area. By the time we left, the weather had gotten really, really bad, so I didn’t feel as bad about my decision to quit on the festival. The rain was coming down so hard that I mistook it for hail at points. It was hitting the cab roof that hard. As for the wind? Well, in the 3 or 4 minutes I was outside between bar and cab, then cab and home, my umbrella was blown inside out 4 times. We’re talking 30 miles an hour or so. So I guess in the end I don’t feel that bad about not going to the OUTDOOR jazz festival.

Chris’s farewell fiesta was interesting, to say the least. We started in the “hub of historic tourism area” (or something…I can never keep up with absurd titles given to places in Korea…and they do love calling stuff “the hub of something”) Insadong. We found some rando little bar and settled in for a bunch of wine. Sure it was lousy, but when you only have to pay 4 bucks a glass and the lousy Korean beers cost you around 3 bucks, its not much of a choice. Also lousy wine doesn’t leave me with lingering bowel issues for days to come like lousy Korean beer (though lousy American beer wasn’t any better). Anyways, after 3 or 4 glasses each, we moved onto Apgujeong, one of the ritziest and priciest areas in Seoul. This also happens to be the area in which the blues bar and jazz club are located, but despite my persistent entreaties, I couldn’t get the group to move in that direction. They rarely, if ever, listen to me, so the failure wasn’t anything unexpected. Upon someone else’s suggestion, we found our way to the “Monkey Bench”, a supposedly very happening bar. The reality was less than advertised. Sure it was full of people, but those people all happened to be crew-cut, gel-haired, popped-collar military “bro” types out to get their drink on. Shudder. Not exactly my ideal scenario. At least with the Koreans, I rarely understand the idiotic bullshit they talk about, whereas here I understood it all. Let’s just say they weren’t talking about Proust. When the yelling, chest bumping and excessive high fives started raining down, we got the hell out. Now, at this point, Jamie had had quite a bit to drink, so we all delighted as he would just walk up to any ol Koreans and ask for directions. Now everyone else in the group knows at least twice as much Korean as Jamie and could have easily asked for directions without any difficulty, but it was just so much more entertaining to watch the loud Brit scare the hell out of this poor unsuspecting Koreans.

We soon found a bar suitable to our needs and settled in. It was much more our style. No GI/bro foreign types, quiet clientele, cute waitresses, and darts. The true highlight was our run-in with a B-list Korean celebrity at the bar. Now, as soon as we sat down, I caught a glimpse of a guy at another table that I could have sworn I had seen on TV many times before. What he did for a living and what his name was I wasn’t sure. I had seen him several times on a absurd comedy show, where he and several comedians would perform ridiculous sports related stunts (I saw one where they basically had to give themselves atomic wedgies and whoever could get the underwear the highest above their head won….intellectually stimulating, I know), but I was also positive I had seen a music video of his a while back. I talked with the rest of the group to confer, and yes, he certainly was the celebrity I was thinking of. He must have been a regular here, as he had his own set of darts that he kept behind the bar. The girls eventually summoned up the liquid courage to ask for his autograph and some pictures with him. Though they may have upset him a bit when they called him a “comedian” (he’s actually a singer), but when you hang around with a bunch of other knuckle head “comedians” (if you can call them that) all the time on the tele, one could assume you are, in fact, a comedian. I was a little bitter when he didn’t wanna play darts with us. Personally I think he was afraid of playing me, as I had already taken down the waitress in Cricket and had been watching him play for a while. Or perhaps he thought I was a creeper (wouldn’t be the first time) with all the time I spent observing him. Guess I can’t really blame him, though. Our exit got a bit dicey, as Jamie was sauced enough to actually lie down in the middle of the road in an attempt to hail a cab. Effective I must say. Also, I finally understand why it was so damn funny when I threw up in my wallet. Somebody, while in the cab, mind you, threw up all over her hands, purse, and shoes, and let me tell you, it was fucking hilarious. Might make me a bad person for laughing at her difficulties, but so be it. Vomit on someone’s possessions (provided they aren’t yours) is hilarious. That is all.

Sunday saw me heading to Olympic Park for a capoeira demo. It was not so good. The music was lousy, there wasn’t enough people, and everybody played like crap (especially me). Compound that with the fact that its Batizado time back in Madison, and it just makes me miss the group back home that much more. Somewhere during the photo session (yeah, after every performance the group ends up taking pictures of itself doing floreio and stuff….), I wished Carlos would just walk in and kick everyone in the head for being so lame.

The school week offered a few unique moments. First, the 6th grade English teacher showed again just how nice, yet strange of a woman she is. On Friday, I had received a text message, in English, asking if I was okay, which made no sense at the time, cuz I had no idea who is was from. Turns out it was from this particular teacher. She, I guess, heard me coughing and got worried about me, so she inquired as to my health in the text, and when she couldn’t get a hold of me, called the other co-teacher to inquire about my health. She, I’m told, got angry at my primary co-teacher for not being more concerned about my supposed failing health and told the co-teacher to let me know of a particular hospital to go to, if I’m not feeling well. Trust me, the primary co-teacher didn’t understand it either. When I showed up to work on Monday I heard about all the drama and was given a brand new, very warm looking long sleeve dress shirt, compliments of the concerned co-teach. Wow, what a nice lady. Then just yesterday, she sent me a text apologizing for her poor English during our casual conversation over office snacks with the other teachers. Why she feels the need to apologize for not having great English, I have no idea. An interesting woman, to say the least.

The students supplied the rest of the moments. One of my favorite students, the little 3rd grade girl who spent some time abroad and as a result has really good English, gave me a note after class one day that read, “Bye bye teacher and maybe I’ll you miss you a little!!” Now, I know she meant for it to be sincere, but when I read it I couldn’t help laughing. “Maybe I’ll miss you a little”? Ouch, that’s really harsh. But maybe she does understand sarcasm and just wanted to burn me without my knowing it. I’ll probably never know.

Yesterday also saw me serving as judge for the school wide English speech contest. Not surprising, the previously mentioned 3rd grade girl won with a really good speech about her dog. The other older students had some good speeches, but something about her inflection and natural flow made it sound like something from a native English speaker of her age. We also had a boy break down in tears when he forgot his speech, not funny, and we had a boy speak super fast and loud because he was nervous, which was very funny. Overall, I was very impressed with the kids and their really well prepared speeches. Several of the kids did speeches about swine flu. I didn’t know that you can help prevent swine flu by brushing your teeth 3 times a day (rolls eyes). Ya learn something every day. Still, these speeches were well beyond what I was writing in my own language at that age. I don’t remember what my writing was like at that age, but I assume they were about very through treatises on why the Green Ranger was the best Power Ranger of all, even better than his alter-ego/doppelganger of sorts, the White Ranger. Compelling stuff, I can assure you.

The Wikipedia page on our celebrity: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jun_Jin

For pics, just google image "Jun Jin"

Busan Film Festival........meh

Nothing terribly exciting happened during the week, so I’ll quickly hop through it and get on to the weekend. Classes with the primary co-teacher went well (as usual), classes with the other co-teacher went poorly (as usual), Korean class was easy but enjoyable, I didn’t get as much sleep as I would like, and several students told me how handsome I was. Just another week in the life of me.

As for the weekend, that was different. Not always good, but it was different. This particular weekend we decided to head down to Busan to catch a small portion of the Busan International Film Festival. After indulging in the Korean culinary experience that is Pizza Hut and soaking in the global cultural experience that is drunken middle aged men, we hoped the 10pm train to Busan and were off. We were more than a bit perturbed when our group were the only ones warned to quiet down during the ride, despite the fact that the people sitting directly in front of us were as loud as us, if not more so. Coincidentally, we were speaking English and happen to not be Korean, while everybody else was Korean (maybe there’s a connection there?). Annoying? Yes. Unexpected? Hell no.

We arrived in Busan around 1am and instead of sleeping (stupid, stupid, stupid), we went out and wandered around the station area, as our hotel was within spitting distance of the KTX station. We soon learned that behind every major Korean hub of transportation, there is an alley (or two) filled with women willing to lick on your testicles (among other things) for a nominal fee. Chris and I found the one near Yongsan Station in Seoul (brief lowdown: around 70 dollars for 15 minutes, 140 dollars for 15 minutes if drunk, no non-Koreans allowed, and the ladies wear the longest skirts found in all of Korea), but this one had a much more international appeal. Here we finally met the Russian prostitutes that so many stereotypes are founded on (namely that any white, blond female is Russian, and thus a prostitute), as well as some Filipino prostitutes as well. There were also plenty of Russian and Filipino restaurants, which I was dying to try (to say that I’m over Korean cuisine would be an egregious understatement), but we didn’t find the time. After we were sufficiently weirded out by the prostitutes and the middle aged white men who always seem to be around such places, we headed back to the hotel, where we should have gone to bed, but didn’t. Finally, at 4am (mind you, the first films of the morning start at 10:30am), we settled in.

It was no surprise that we didn’t make it to the first showing we wanted the next day. Though we did fail valiantly, for whatever it was worth. We arrived at the Film Festival venue (it was split up into 2 sections, one at the lovely Haeundae Beach, the other near the train station) more or less in time. We chose the train station venue, as it wouldn’t take us an hour on the subway to get there. We had chosen a film about Israel and Palestine by a director whose first movie won some awards at Cannes (aka it wasn’t gonna suck) and I was excited. We first had to decide which theater to try and buy tickets at, as there were two directly across the street from one another, so we decided to ask for help at the information booth. It was there that Chris and I met the love of our lives, or at least for the next 10 minutes. The young lady that assisted us was gorgeous and spoke gorgeous English. Looking back I was probably more in love with her incredible English. Sad, really, that good English ability has become a turn on for me, but that’s how it is. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to walk down the street in the States without creaming my jeans when I get back….on second thought, Americans normally speak terrible English. I’ll be fine. Anyways, she directed us to a theater, where we got in line and waited, only to find out it was the wrong line. I still don’t know what ticket-distributing line we were in, or how they separated the patrons, but it was the wrong one. Perhaps it was the left handed customers line, or maybe the AB blood-type line or the people born during a leap year line. God, I have no idea. Anyways, they tossed us into a different line where we could have bought the ticket, had the movie not started 3 minutes ago. Crap. We just randomly picked one of the two 11:00am movies (I won the paper-rock-scissors throwdown to chose the flick and it will haunt me for the remainder of my years) and were off. The flick we had chosen was “The Dust of Time”, which featured Willem Dafoe and was set during the Stalin regime in the Soviet Union. Sounds like win, right? Wrong. For starters, the dialogue was really stilted, cliché and just plain bad from the very get go. The story never got interesting, although it did get weird, which didn’t help, and it lingered on for about 40 minutes longer than we wanted. And Willem Dafoe kinda sucked (never thought I would say that, but I just did). We were released eventually and then had to make a decision what to do next. Since the movie we watched ran much longer than what we had intended, we didn’t have time for the 45min-1hr trip to Haeundae in order to catch the 2nd round of flicks. To help us answer our questions we went back to our favorite information desk lass…again and again and again. We just kept coming up with different questions to ask her. We were just really confused that day. After she sadly informed us that they were out of the guide books that have the times and descriptions of every flick and we left rather despondent, she went out of her way to find a booklet for us somewhere. That might as well be foreplay, at least in my book. Your move, information desk girl.

We eventually decided to move to the Haeundae area and catch the 3rd block of films after eating lunch during the majority of the second block. We made our way to Busan’s new Shinsegae department store, which I’m told is the largest in the world….just what I wanted. We grabbed some grub which was good, despite a few misgivings (if they are gonna put your soup in a mug, instead of a real bowl, they can at least fill the mug to the top. It’s not like it was freaking panda soup or black rhino soup, it was potato soup. You can afford to fill it up) it was pretty good. Our bellies filled, we moved to the information desk where another set of attractive young ladies had to give us bad news. Perhaps that’s why they choose pretty girls in the first place. They are just so hard to be angry at. Anyways, they informed us that all the tickets for the 3rd and 4th block of films were sold out at all the Haeundae theaters. It was about 30 screens in all, all sold out. So we got to see only one film…and it sucked. We wandered around the mall to waste time, stopping off at the bookstore (the only place I’ll actually go into at most malls/department stores) for me to buy some jazz CDs to get myself pumped for this weekends jazz festival, while Amy got to met, take pictures with, and have her book signed by a famous Korean singer that she especially adores.

For dinner we headed to Haeundae for extremely tasty and heart stopping burgers and chili cheese fries. You can imagine that the rest of the evening wasn’t terribly exciting if I’m taking the time to tell about my meals. We wandered around the beach for a bit, taking in the stands and stuff assembled for the film festival. I was hoping for a lot more stuff to do at the tents, but it might have just been I was in a grouchy mood. I really wanted to see some movies (good ones) and didn’t really give two shits about all this other stuff. We then spent a considerable amount of time sitting around and people-watching, which was entertaining as always. It was at this point that we found the restaurant. We hadn’t really intended to eat there, but once we saw it, we knew we had to eat there. No rice, no kimchi…sign me up! Afterwards, we headed to an ATM to pull out cash and nearly threw up. This particular ATM “room” was attached to my bank (the lack of withdrawal fee wasn’t worth it) and was home to a sleeping homeless person and an overflowing garbage can. Let those two stimuli incubate and mature within a tiny little glass box just big enough to hold 3 ATM machines and you get an awful, awful smell. It was not so great.

Later on, we met up with some other folks for a bit of drinking and then 10 drinks more. Some of us were drinking to forget about the disappointing movie and sold out tickets, some (Amy) were drinking to relieve themselves of the pain of having spent the whole day with just Chris and myself. After a time, we spied two young Korean guys trying to sell random shit for their part time job. Something about these shy, nervous little buggers going around giving speeches about whatever junk they were selling in the most formal Korean speech imaginable with excessive bowing, all while wearing bright purple and yellow afro wigs, struck me as ironic. We called them over, then took pictures with them, borrowed their wigs for pictures, offered them some drinks (one actually refused cuz he was still in high school), then finally bought the good luck charms they were selling. Afterwards we moved to a new bar and were introduced to some new people. Given its me, you can probably assume what happened. There was awkward conversation, then even more awkward silence, followed by them leaving. Once back at the hotel, the males in the group were scolded for not trying to make a better impression. Chris and Danny (another friend) had legit excuses. Chris was suffering from a nasty combo of lack of sleep, alcohol, antibiotics for a sore throat that turned out to be bronchitis, and the said bronchitis. He was asleep for most of the time, thus being terribly untalkative. Danny was also less than chatty, as he didn’t sleep the night before thanks to an all nighter celebration that he was unable to avoid. He also slept for most of the time. As for me, I could say that I was tired or that I was sleepy from the booze, but the answer is simple: I don’t like interacting with people. For me to actually want to converse with new, unknown and potentially lame people, they really have to impress me and give me a reason to talk to them. They did not. Therefore, I did not talk to them. Simple enough.

The next morning Chris and I overslept (again) and missed the morning films we wanted to see (though the tickets may have been sold out again), so we quickly hopped on the KTX train and got the hell out of town. Man, I love Busan and it’s a blast every time I go, but damn did this last trip leave a bad taste in my mouth. Here’s hoping the Jarasum Jazz Festival is everything I hope it to be. Please, please, please don’t rain this weekend.


P.S. I forgot to mention it earlier, but I was thrilled when I found out that one of my favorite female crushes would be attending the festival and would have a movie premiering. The movie booklet with this information neglected to mention the really important information, such as her cell phone number and hotel room in Busan, but I'm not gonna hold it against them. Her movie was supposed to have some lesbian elements in it between her and another actress, but that may have just been rumors to build interest in the film (got me interested). Sadly, I didn't see her on stage and her movie played after we left. Tear.

http://images.google.co.kr/images?client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla%3Aen-US%3Aofficial&hl=ko&source=hp&q=uhm+jung+hwa&btnG=%EC%9D%B4%EB%AF%B8%EC%A7%80+%EA%B2%80%EC%83%89&gbv=2&aq=f&oq=#gbv=2&hl=ko&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&newwindow=1&q=uhm+jung+hwa&sa=N&start=0&ndsp=21

Here's the google image search for her. Ms. Uhm Jung Hwa is actually 41, if you can believe it. She's also still unmarried, which makes it even better for me, as the Korean menz would have written her off as an old maid/damaged goods, meaning less competition for me. Now, normally 41 is a bit old for my taste, but if you still look like that at 41 or 51 or 61 or even 71 for that matter, I'd be interested. They call her the Korea's Madonna, but if Madonna had ever looked that good, I would have cared alot more about her lousy music and movies.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-F2_ja7aZU8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZjqT4FIxrY

Pics: Album "Busan Film Festival"
***Also, as usual, you can find more pics (and certainly better pics) by searching through the pics of me and the albums they are attached to****

A much needed update

Apologies to all for not having written in such a long time. I could go on and on about how busy I am and I don’t have time, blah, blah, blah, but when I realized that I’ve been at my new school/apartment for nearly a month and still haven’t actually posted any pictures of my new digs, then the former excuses seem to ring a bit hollow. Pure and simple, I’m lazy.

Now, the last time I actually wrote, I had just moved in and started work, so everything was still first impressions. However, I can happily say that those first impressions have indeed held up and I am still very content with the new lifestyle.

First, the apartment. Again, happy to report it is still very, very, very big and wonderful. Still don’t have near enough stuff to fill up most of the cabinets and storage space, but I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing. The laundry machines in the basement are much better and energy efficient and, well, just better. Plus, they actually have a drying function (err, well, there are directions in English on how to use said drying function….I now realize that the old washing machine may have had that too….ooops). The workout room has been a major blessing, especially leading up to the 10K race I just ran. Sure, the boombox is broken and I have nothing but myself to occupy…myself during the 1.5 hour training runs, but I somehow managed to pull through without losing my grip on reality too terribly. Though seemingly minor and insignificant, the single gymnastics mat in the workout room may be most important feature of the of the whole setup. Rather then relying solely on capoeira class for training, I can now disfigure and damage myself through numerous moves in the comfort of my own home.

As for my fellow dorm mates, I have no idea who they are. And I like it that way. Everyone is busy with their own shit and I'm clearly not the type to bake a cake or something and then go introduce them to the neighborhood, so I have yet to really interact with them at all. I've said hello to them in the hall, but for the most part, I'm never around and I rarely see them around the complex when I am around. It really is like being back in the dorms again. Funny.

School, is in a word, wonderful. What a difference it makes when everybody in the office goes out of their way to include you in stuff. Although, that's probably unfair to the old school, as they did make an effort, but it was hard, as nobody could speak English. The atmosphere is much more relaxed, as my office only has 6 teachers in it, so everyone is much closer and friendlier. The office consists of both co-teachers, a music and art teacher who lived in the States for 2 years so her English is pretty good, the music teacher who speaks very little English and an art teacher who is now gone on maternity leave. It does get a little weird at times as the other 5 are all women, so I feel, how do I say this, out of my element in regards to some of the subjects we chat about. Primarily they discuss, surprise, surprise, men. My primary co-teacher is especially obsessed about the men as she is single and around 30, which means she is now under considerable family and societal pressure to get married. She has told me on several occasions that she is looking for Mr. Right. She is a wonderful lady, but I worry alot that she is going to settle for the first fellow that comes along and subsequently be very, very unhappy for the rest of her life and she deserves much better than that. I has been suggested that I be that Mr. Right, but I feel like that would be a very, very bad idea. End of discussion. But, as you might imagine, their conversations delve into subjects that I care very little for, but they do try to include me, to sometimes disastrous and amusing results. My personal favorite was when we were all sitting around snacking on something and the ladies were conversing when the co-teacher turned to me and asked "Eric, what is the first thing you look for in a woman?". Wow. On the spot. Careful Eric, don't say breasts and ass. Don't say cuz she's easy. "Ummmm, if she has a pretty face?" Nice save, nice save.

The English classes themselves have been all over the place. To put it simply, the classes with the primary co-teacher are wonderful and the kids are too, the classes with the other co-teacher are not and neither are the kids. First, the primary co-teacher and the classes with her. She gives me hope that someday, maybe Korea will be able to teach English properly and effectively without us (Native speakers). She speaks an amazing amount of English in the classroom, and tries to only use Korean when she must. And you know what, it works. I assumed a classroom where English is spoken was just a myth, like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, that we all desperately hope is real. We also get along and co-teach (god, I'm tearing up....its so beautiful) very well. I think this stems from several facts: 1) She sees me a human being, rather than a machine that spits out English words on command 2) She doesn't think I'm an idiot 3) She acknowledges the possibility that the book exercises might not be fun and might in fact, suck, so she is open to different ideas. As you might recall from the previous job, these 3 things were noticeably absent from the previous job. Outside of classroom, she realizes that I am not fluent in Korean, and thus am much slower on the uptake on certain goings on, so she assists when necessary. All of this leads to me not wanting to cause major physical harm to her, unlike the previous teacher. Also, she's very pretty, so even if she was a bitch to me, I probably still couldn't hate her (I have a history of this when it comes to women....cough, Maria, cough). Now, the kids. I teach 3rd grade through 5th grade with her, and the kids are wonderful. Overall, they are really well behaved and genuinely want to participate in English class and that's all I really ask. Because my area is a bit more affluent than the old school (just a bit), many of the students have really, really, really good English from having lived abroad for several years or having attended private academy classes from very early on. But really, when you ask a question and 15 out of 25 hands go up to answer and when you hit a little bell and everybody shuts the hell up, it brings a tear to your eye. Because I'm me, the students naturally loved me from the very first second. A month or so in and they are still in awe of my massive size. Some of the really, really small kids only come up to my belt, so you can imagine how huge I am to the folks. Most of the kids are just so darn small and cute and adorable that I just wanna steal one or two. Not for good mind you. I'd give them back when they got older and turned into little shits, but they should still be cute for a couple of years. To give you an idea of how quickly and strongly the little buggers got attached to me (in this case, literally attached to me), take the first day of my favorite 3rd grade class. The bell rang for the end of class and the start of lunch, and I was immediately surrounded by 27 little ones hell bent on showing me their rock/paper/scissors skills (they love that shit over here). As you can imagine, thats a lot of rock/paper/scissors games. Especially when the each kid wanted to keep playing FOREVER!! After 5 minutes or so, I realized that the mob wasn't going to disperse on its own, and feeling bad for the co-teacher who had been patiently waiting outside the room the whole time, so I told the kids I had to go. From the looks of disappointment on their faces, you would have thought I just told them their pet cat, their pet dog, and both their parents had died. As began leaving the room, several of the students ran over and grabbed my arm in an attempt to keep me there by force (I believe one or two may have attached themselves to my legs as well....I don't remember for sure). Remember, this was the very first day. I had spent a total of 40 minutes with these children. Hell, that class actually comes into the office at lunch, takes me by hand and drags me into the lunch room with them to chat.

On the flip side (man, how long has it been since I said that?), we have the 6th grade who I teach with the other co-teacher. She is an incredibly sweet, friendly and nice lady, but she has to be the most shy Korean I've ever seen (and that is saying something). She is incredibly conscious of her English ability and is always, always apologizing and freaking out when she makes a mistake. I really want to improve my Korean drastically so we can just lesson plan in Korean and save her the stress and eventual heart attack of having to speak English. This lack of communication leads to some confusion in the classroom, but there are much greater issues here. First, she, as you can imagine from the general meekness, has no authority over the kids in the classroom. They run around at times, never shut up and generally just disrespect whoever is talking, whether it be their classmates or teachers. Secondly, she is never prepared and on cue, something is never ready, giving the students even more time to talk and fall off task. The kids aren't bad, they just have hit the age where they dislike school and don't wanna be there and don't instinctively listen to the teacher anymore. They need discipline and some semblance of structure/authority, but it just isn't there, making any manner of teaching near impossible.

Apart from that stuff, I've started taking Korean classes at one of the universities in Seoul. They are good. It's a nice, small, tight knit class of 10 or so students. I had hoped that some of the students would be Chinese or Japanese or something and I would have to talk to them in Korean in order to communicate, but no dice. Everybody's American. Pretty much. An eclectic bunch to say the least. One lady is the wife of a minister/priest who works here in Korea. One guy is a Film Making professor who is employed as a visiting Film Making professor at the school we study at. One girl trained in capoeira back in the States under a Mestre who appeared in "Only The Strong". That's right. I know a person who trained with a person who played capoeira with Mark Decascos. Awesome. As for the class itself, its a bit easy for me and I had hoped to test into a higher level class, but I bombed the placement test something fierce. Guess that's what happens when you take it after being away from Korean for 2 weeks while traveling the Philippines. The class is very speaking oriented, which was what I wanted as I badly needed to get my confidence up and just simply start speaking. I'm really excited to keep going, as I've already noticed improvements.

Now, for all the stuff you actually wanted to hear about…the weekend exploits. As there have been a couple of weekends to report on, this might get kinda long (not like the rest of the piece isn’t an unseemly long bugger already). I haven’t been traveling too much, so much of the action centers around the alcohol-fueled misdeeds of our fair group. The first weekend at the new digs saw most of the group coming to my neck of the woods to break in the new massive apartment. The merriment commenced with dinner and drinks with a side of vacation stories and general catching up, as we hadn’t seen each other for about a month and a half. We continued drinking for a period of time, when suddenly the group took to making out with one another. And it wasn’t who you would think. Naturally, I wasn’t involved, but I was plenty shocked when I saw (The following material has been deemed unsuitable for Internet consumption. That is all). Eventually all the excitement died down, and the group moved back to my house to crash for the night. Now, I was worried about this curfew they had warned me about with the dorm. Seeing as how they asked the residents to be back by midnight, I thought perhaps we would be locked out. Not so, which was good, given how big of a disaster it would have been trying to get the other folks to climb the fence in their present states. In true Wallin pushover fashion, I ended up sleeping on the couch in my own apartment while my damn comfy double bed was occupied by not me.

The next weekend saw the group wander around the Han for lack of anything better to do. For photographic proof, find Amy’s photo album “Biking the Han”. I arrived late to the party, despite only living 20 minutes away (ooops), so I missed out on the biking, but I made it just in time for the flower/meadow photoshoot. Chris and I will most definitely be using those shots as the album cover for our Christian rock, folk, or indie record coming never to a store near you. Or else we could use them to pick up Korean chicks by convincing them we are sensitive, gentle and in touch with our feelings and shit. Hell, most women seem to like that stuff. After the biking we wandered around the nearby area where we grabbed some pizza and tried to cheer up the sad looking Korean guy making pizzas. Never underestimate the power of a young, white female to lift the spirits (and perhaps other things) of Korean men. We eventually found a small little wine bar and settled down for 3 bottles of wine and lots of songs by Sting. I, being of large, gangly arms and little coordination, accidentally knocked my full wine glass over during a later part of the evening and would have made a large mess had I not reacted quickly enough and caught it. In saving my glass I knocked over Amy’s and spilled red wine on her shorts, thus ruining them. But at least I didn’t spill my wine, which would have really been bad.

The next weekend we all headed to Suwon for Jenna’s “Hey, I live in Suwon, come visit me and drink here, instead of in Seoul for once” gathering. And we did just that. We also met some of Jenna’s Suwon friends and realized why we don’t normally stretch outside our little group for social interaction, as the other folks were, to put it simply, not interesting or worth talking to. Ohhh, and they also skipped out on the large bill, leaving us, who drank considerably less, to foot most of it. Maybe my math was bad, but I don’t think 1 beer at that place costs 40 bucks, cuz that’s what I paid, to help cover the bill. Assholes. Other highlights were people falling out of their chairs at the bar, and nearly getting into a fight at the last bar. Now the fall was probably equal parts alcohol, a chair positioned precariously close to the ledge, and a house band that made you want to do awful things to yourself to distract from the pain of hearing them play. Add them together and you are just begging for a wipeout. She did have the wherewithal to roll out of it, so massive respect points for that. Hell, had it been me, I probably would have stayed down on the floor and cried for my mommy for several minutes. At the next bar, Chris (and probably also me, for association with him) came close to getting into a fight. Chris and I had stuck around after everyone had gone home, with the intention of trying to pick up the very lovely waitresses (okay, so Chris tried and I observed, whatever). After a short while of chatting with the owner, also quite lovely, a terribly drunk male friend of hers began ranting in English about how we shouldn’t be doing what we were doing or something of that nature. We managed to calm him down, but it was a bit dicey for a few minutes. Given the Korean police’s predilection for busting foreigners for everything and anything (they recently busted a group of foreigners’ home poker game under the pretenses of illegal gambling….yeah, they really have nothing better to do), I’d just assume stay out of their crosshairs.

Not even 4 days later, despite my best efforts, I found myself back at the bars. It was unavoidable though, as a certain former Badger and friend were in town visiting from Japan for a limited time engagement, so adequate sleep would have to take a back seat. The girls also chose a hostel in Hongdae, so there really was no way I was gonna avoid the bars. I met Lauren and Maria at some beef restaurant in Hongdae and they told me about their drunken ear piercings from the night before, while I explained which of the Korean side dishes were worth eating and which should be sealed in a stone pot and allowed to ferment for all eternity. We later moved to “the cave bar”, as some folks have called it, and discovered that they actually had the rivers turned on and running through the premises for once. Not surprising really, given that it was a Tuesday night and the number of drunk customers liable to slip and fall and kill themselves is drastically lower than on a Friday or Saturday. I had to say my farewells eventually, although not before the obligatory stop at one of the thousand or so Ho Bars, and arrived home and settled in for a respectable 4 hours of sleep. Ugggg.

That weekend saw a much needed respite from drinking in the form of the Hoengseong Healthy Living (or something like that, I kid you not) Marathon Festival. I had signed up 3 or so weeks before to run the 10Km race portion with Amy, Jenna, and Amy’s co-teacher and had been training ever since. I must give a considerable thank you to Amy’s co-teacher, who made it all possible, as the town of Hoengseong is not overly easy to reach, being 1 hour by car from Amy’s house, which is 1.5 hours from Seoul already. Hoengseong is located in the Gangwon province, directly east of Seoul and Gyeonggi province, where I used to live. Gangwon can be summed up best by its tourism slogan, “Come for the Natural Beauty, Stay for….um….stay for…ahhhh hell, just go home” (not really its slogan, but it’s a hell of a lot more accurate and truthful than “Heavenly Blessed Land”, which is a total crock). Gangwon is quite pretty with its mountains and coastal areas and forests, but when it comes to people, things, cities, stuff to do…..not so much. Anyways, after an hour of listening to Stevie Wonder and “Thriller” to pump us up for the run, we arrived and realized this thing was a lot bigger than we had expected. Now, I had seen the list of participants in the parcel of items sent to each of the runners (shirt, number, timer, etc), but having never run one of these things before, it was a bit overwhelming. Overall the race went well and was exactly like a similar event held in the states, for the most part. I can guarantee, however, that no American event has attractive young women on stage in tiny tops and mini skirts helping lead a group stretch for the runners. Man, they love scantily clad young women here maybe more than in the US, which is saying something. Good on ya, Korea, good on ya. Other highlights were the guy who had to stop for piss on the back end of the 10K race, and the free booze afterwards. I understand that you sometimes have to take a leak during these long runs, but he was running the 10K just like me. You’re telling me that you can’t hold it for 1 hour, or that you forgot to go before the race? Amateur. I didn’t mind much, as it just made it that much easier to pass him. They also offered free Hite beer afterwards, which was perfect for the situation, as it gets you drunk (eventually) to help dull the pain and since its basically just water, it hydrates you too. Ohh, and since you are already tired, the horrible taste doesn’t bother you. Final results: 44 minutes and 39 seconds. A pretty respectable time for me, having never run this distance before. I just found out yesterday that I took 15th place out of a bunch of people when a package arrived in the mail to school. The contents? A cool certificate thing to show off to folks and a 4Kg bag of rice. You know you are in Asia when……

This last weekend (yeah, this bloated post is finally coming to a close) has been interesting to say the least. It was an extended one, thanks to Korea’s major fall holiday of Chuseok, where traditionally they gather with family and give thanks to their ancestors and what have you. The Koreans always refer to it as the “Korean Thanksgiving” to help us grasp it, but really, its nothing like Thanksgiving, outside of the fact that they are both fall harvest festivals. Whatever they call it, it means a 4 day weekend. The action began Wednesday night after capoeira, when a bunch of folk from class went out for cheap beer and fried chicken. The group consisted of several Americans, a few Koreans, one French guy teaching French in Seoul, and a Japanese girl in Seoul for a few days on vacation. Somewhere between discussing the best French wines with the native, to learning random French and Japanese words, to having the French guy and the Japanese girl order the food and drinks…in Korean while the Koreans sat and watched, I realized “Hey, this is why I decided to leave the States”. It was nothing crazy or monumental, but all the same, it was something that I doubt I would have experienced back home. Made me really glad about my decision to get out and live a little.

The next evening saw me meeting a Korean celebrity (albeit not a superstar, but a famous person nonetheless) while out for drinks with the Korean class. It turns out that one of the students in the Korean class, a Film Making professor teaching several Film Making classes at a university in Seoul, has a Korean actress girlfriend. The women apparently was a quite well known newscaster/reporter who quit to pursue acting, and has a small supporting part in the #1 number movie at the Korean box office right now. She spoke very good English and was a lot of fun to talk to about other celebrities, as she had met many or shared agents with, etc. Alas, she didn’t have the private cell phone numbers of all my favorite celebs, so that was a bit of a letdown, but otherwise, really, really, cool.

On Friday, our little group was supposed to go and try to find the French village that is in Seoul somewhere. I was curious to see just how pathetic it would be , given how big of a laugher Chinatown in Busan was. Sadly, it was not to be as several of the group members had to take a pass because they were under the weather (cough, cough...hangover..cough, cough). Left all by our lonesomes, Jenna and I wandered around the Han River Park, taking plenty of pictures like the good Koreans we are. We met a cute little girl and her grandfather who were out "walking the dog". In actuality, the little girl was carrying the pup the whole time. Anyways, they stopped to talk with us, as she and her brother live in Vancouver and are just here in Seoul visiting Grandpa. I especially enjoyed when she nonchalantly said, "Ohhh, grandpa don't know English." Just the tone, almost dismissive of the guy, really convinced me that she was from the Western world. Lack of reverence/respect/regard for elders? Check. Almost like I'm back home. After parting from the family, we wandered around the park, before heading off to the same little wine bar from a couple weeks back. A bottle of wine later, we headed off to Hongdae to meet up with Chris (eventually). While back at the "cave bar" again (I really like it there), I was dragged out on the dance floor to dance to the Latin beats (thank god it wasn't hip hop....I really, really can't dance to that stuff). Much to my dismay, I was informed that I'm a decent dancer, and as such, will have to dance whenever we go out in the future. Crap, crap, crap. From there, home, sleep, rest. Saturday was much the same, with the added addition of our formerly sickly friends (they were also sick on Sunday....take a guess what from?). After several hours, several locales, and some hookah mixed in with the beers, I found myself uncomfortably talking with a group of Korean men at the bar. If you've followed any of my previous adventures in Japan and Korea, you would know that Asian men really seem to like me....a lot. So you can understand my displeasure when I found myself alone at the bar table with 4 Korean men, being bought beer after beer, and watching them slowly move closer and closer. Near the end of the night I was on the receiving end of a very intense and very long stare down from one of the guys. I felt like he was eye raping me something fierce. Course, he could have just been staring really intently at the wall behind me, but I kinda doubt it. Again, I got home nice and early, just in time to see the sun come up.

We have finally arrived at the present. Anyways, the near future looks very interesting as well, as the Busan International Film Festival is this weekend, so I may be going and the stories will then follow. The following weekend is the Jarasum International Jazz Festival, so I plan on heading out there to satisfy my inner music elitist. Hopefully I'll be more on the ball with posts, but I can't really make any guarantees. Till next time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZcrDIVPhI4

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

Pics: "Living in Seoul (FINALLY)" Album

Saturday, August 15th: Golf Etiquette (or lack thereof)

Our last full day in the Philippines was about one thing and one thing only: the golf showdown. We had been talking up our throwdown since before we got to the Philippines and the day had finally come to shut up and swing. Jamie and I reunited at noon, then promptly headed out for the links. Now, the Intramuros Golf Course, while not the greatest course ever, was undeniably cool, as it is situated smack dab in the middle of Manila and borders the outer wall of Intramuros, the walled inner city built by the Spanish several hundred years ago.

The drama started as soon as our taxi rolled up. We stepped out and were swarmed by 10 or so caddies (maybe) and other employees. Now, we knew we were taking a chance with our attire, as I had brought only t-shirts to the Philippines and the standard rule is collared shirts only. I just figured it was the Philippines, and they usually don't turn down tourist money, so I assumed I could bend the rules a bit. Now, as we moved to the equipment shed to choose some rental clubs, I heard the employees start yelling something about "zapatoes", which is Spanish for shoes and I looked around in confusion until I realized they were talking about Jamie, cuz he came in sandals. Face. Palm. Thankfully, they had some spare shoes and that crisis was averted. Bags and caddies at hand, we moved to the first tee. We quickly noticed that we were out of our element. Every other group was vacationers here in the Philippines solely for the golf. Every party was decked to the nines in gloves, hats, shirts, shoes, pants, clubs, and balls all from Callaway or some other golf company. As we waited for our turn, we cracked jokes and were loud and obnoxious folks on vacation, so we probably didn't make any friends. Our golf was nearly derailed again, as somebody from the front desk came over to inform me, after we had already paid, that I couldn't play in that attire. We told him that if we can't play, he better give us our money back, then we'll go. He quickly ran off to confer with somebody or something, but our caddies, who happened to be the coolest mother fuckers ever, just said to play. Let it commence. Both Jamie and I started off terribly. You wouldn't think that you could do badly on a course where it is impossible to hit the ball out of bounds on one side because of the 30-40 foot tall, hundred or so year old stone wall, but we managed. Jamie summoned up the luck of the Irish or something (I know he's British, just assumed the Brits stole that from the Irish too), as he hit balls on 2 holes that actually skipped out of the water hazards, like he was tossing a god damn stone. I was not so lucky. I hit practically every water spot. We eventually heated up well beyond our actual ability in golf, as I legitly managed an eagle on a par 5 (yeah, the course was a small one, but still) with a chip in from 100 or so yards out. I couldn't fucking believe it. Jamie pulled some more magic out of his ass as well, as we golfed well beyond our meager expectations. The golf course was something to be beheld. On one side of the course we had Manila, with a major highway and all its noise, pollution, peddlers along the fence trying to sell tees, water, cigs, etc, and on the other side we had this monstrous ancient wall, with cannons still in position in some places. Ohh, did I mention all the chickens. Yes, it wouldn't be the Philippines if there wasn't chickens somewhere. In this case they were just roaming the links, along with the cats. Yeah, there were cats too. The caddies, man, were they a blast. I assume they had more than enough of the stuffy, no fun, bitch at the caddie when they fuck up golfers, so they seemed very appreciative to be able to laugh and joke freely without repercussion. Hell, with the overall lack of etiquette and stupid shit we pulled, you would have to be a robot not to laugh at it. I mean, at one point, while the group ahead of us was walking towards the green of the short par 3 they were still playing, Jamie shot his tee shot. Thankfully, nobody was hit, but we did have a hell of a laugh when the other party got to the green and had no idea where the hell this other golf ball came from. Jesus. While waiting on the final tee, one caddy offered to hook us up with some ladies and show us how its done, which led to an explicit conversation of sex. This is how golf should be. Gentlemen's game? Fuck that.

In the end, Jamie Jackson won by 2 strokes. I had the lead by 2 with 3 holes to play, but there was water on the last few holes, so naturally I had to hit into all of them. My less than clutch performance continued past the golf course, as I didn't bring enough money to pay the caddie, so I had to catch a cab back to my hotel, grab more cash, then run back to the links. Thank god cabs are cheaper than water in the Philippines. Once I got back and paid, we caught the cab back to the hotel again, ate dinner and went to bed. The end. Bye Philippines. Hope I can come back soon, when you aren't having landslides and flooding that keeps me away from some of your best sights. Till then, don't change. Well, maybe you could improve on the poverty, and general well being of your residents, but otherwise, keep doing what you're doing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BmwoRXl_-U

Pics: Album 2, Pictures 24-42

Random Amusing Stuff

Here's some pics of me that were photoshopped by my former students. Enjoy!

Friday, August 14th: Looking for Kurtz

Today's goal: Explore Subic Bay's pristine virgin forests. I'll give you a minute or two to make your sexual innuendos....................that should just about do it. Yep, because the US military occupied the surrounding area for 50 or so years and protected them from any logging whatsoever, the forests are almost completely untouched.

Anyways, I set out straightaway in the morning for the forest. I quickly found the transportation hub and was on my way, via taxi. Sounds easy, no? It wasn't. Now, I assumed, given the amount of time dedicated to the forests in my travel book and the official sounding name to the park, that this forest would be easy to find and some fancy official National Park or something.....not so. My first indication was when I told the cabbie where to go, and he had no idea where the fuck it was. Ouch. He knew the general area in which it should be located, so off we went in that direction. As we got closer, we stopped to ask directions from various army/security guards assigned to regulate people entering and exiting the forest area. They had no idea where the trails were either. Yikes. Eventually, many stops for directions later, we made it to the "park" entrance. Now, I say park quite hesitantly, as it wasn't quite what I was expecting. Sure, the forest was there in all its splendor, but that was about it. The entrance consisted of a crappy, nearly falling down sign announcing its presence, and the park ranger station or whatever you wanna it wasn't much to look at it. I suggest browsing through the pics to see what I mean, but basically it was a ramshackle iron shed. Two ladies working there came out, took my entrance fee money (like 2 bucks), and then called for my guide. I knew I was in for a treat when my guide showed up with a rusty machete. Fuck yes.

As for the forest itself, again it would probably be better to just leave descriptions to the pictures. I can say that it was pretty damn cool to actually see a real bamboo forest. I wanted to play out all my Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon/House of the Flying Daggers fantasies, but I assumed that was probably illegal and my guide had a machete so I was very much inclined to go wherever he wanted to go. Because I'm a book nerd, I felt like I was Marlow from "Heart of Darkness" searching for Kurtz. Cept I didn't smell any rotting hippo meat, though. Like I said, nerd. Anyways, the trail opened up into a small little bay. Took some pics and relaxed for a bit, but the guide looked really bored and he was the one with the large, sharp object, so I didn't really feel like upsetting him and we quickly moved back toward base camp.

Before heading out of town, I decided to try my hand at the Philippines version of McDonalds, called Jollibees. It was really no different than any other fast food restaurant, cept for the armed security guard just hanging around inside the entryway. Definitely gave the restaurant a different atmosphere, that's for sure.

Once back in Manila, I wandered, lost and aimless, for quite some time. The return bus had plunked me down in an area I didn't know and just so happened to be several hours walk away from my intended hotel area. I had intended to just walk it, but when I found out it was too far away for even the motorcycle bike guys to transport me, I realized I'd have to catch a taxi. Cept, since this wasn't what you would call an affluent area, there were never any empty taxis that appeared. After about 2 hours of walking about and trying to hail a taxi, I finally snagged on and made it back to my apartment. Time to go to bed and prep for the EPIC golf showdown with Mr. Jamie Jackson the next day.

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

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4AWg1XNdIV8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rvJAIJJ5UFA

Pictures: Album 1, Pics 191-200
Album 2, Pics 1-23

Thurs, August 13th: Subic Bay

Much like Wednesday, Thursday had laid out a considerable amount of traveling in front of me, so this traveler was up and moving at an hour even his mother could be proud of. After saying goodbye to the sweet old hotel owner and promising not to do anything stupid with my money (outside of paying $75 bucks for a 20 minute boat ride on a vessel that could barely be labeled a boat), I was off. I hopped into a motorcycle for the ride back to town, then caught a bus for my return trip to Manila.

Once back in Manila, my tummy a-started a-rumbling, so I set out on a quest for lunch. What haven't I eaten in a while?, I thought. Answer: Korean food. Now, you can all laugh all you want, but I seriously hadn't had good Korean food in months and hadn't had any whatsoever since the school semester and its lunches ended a month earlier. I also hadn't seen loud, obnoxious simpletons making asses of themselves on television (also known as Korean TV) for several weeks, so I was able to feed that hunger as well. Completely full on Korea, I moved onward to Subic Bay.

But first, I had to get out of Manila. To get to the bus station required another cab ride. Too bad I happened to find the most expensive cab in all of Manila. Somehow my 15 minute ride cost more than my earlier 45 minute rides from the airport. That's what I get for choosing the "nice" cab that came with windows and something more recent than a record player for music (I kid, I kid). Seriously, take the crappy looking older cabs. Ohhh, and that 3 hour bus ticket to Cubic Bay? A fuck ton cheaper than the cab ride. Just saying.

Subic Bay was unique. But first I had to wade through the muck that was Olangapo. Olangapo and Cubic Bay were similar to the set up in Moalboal and Panagsama Beach, where you arrive in the dumpy town and then get the hell out as fast as possible. Dank, dirty, with nothing to do. You know how I know? The locals all walk over to Subic to hang out/do stuff. They don't even stick around. Exactly. After passing over "Shit River" (my guidebook said that's what it's affectionately called, though I didn't see any shit in it, just lots of garbage) and through the Gated entrance, I was in Subic Bay Freeport Zone (the official name for the area). What did it look like you say? Ummm, in a word, Oshkosh. Disappointed? I was too. Though I shouldn't have been surprised, given the area was started/built/run/controlled by the US military up until 15 or so years ago. Literally, it was like I had fallen through a hole in the earth and popped up in Oshkosh. Nicely paved wide roads, lots of park/green space, little 1 or 2 mini mall structures, traffic signs, as well as terribly American architecture. In other words, nothing like the areas of the Philippines I had previously seen. It felt exactly like a quiet, peaceful and as a result, terribly boring American small town.

As I arrived in the early evening, I had no chance of seeing any of the forests before dark, so I just wandered around the area looking for a hotel. I laughed when I stumbled upon a Korean Catholic Church as well as a hotel that was self described as "catering to Koreans" with its Korean restaurant and Korean signboards. There really is no escaping Korea, no matter how hard I may try. I should probably just give up trying at this point. You win Korea, you win. I also laughed when a peddler tried to sell me Viagra while I was walking the beach. That would make damn near a baker's dozen worth of times where I was offered Viagra or similar products. I must look really desperate and in need of serious help. Please, please, please, don't answer that. Eventually, I found a hotel that had a children's playground on the premises. Now, I'm not saying it was the sole reason I chose the hotel, but it didn't hurt. Sadly, it was a bit small for me. Once settled in, it was off for dinner, then bed. I clearly classed up the Italian restaurant attached to my hotel upon my entrance. The other patrons? Suits, ties, dress shoes and clean. Me, not as much. Dirty smelly t-shirt with armpit sweat stains and presumably sweat stains on the back from lugging around the backpack all day? Check. Unwashed, sweaty, greasy hair? Check. Cracked, old sandals and funk-emitting monstrous feet? Check and check. God, I love vacation.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbuxXEpwF8M

Pics: Album 1, Pictures 185-190