The Batizado

Yes, finally we have gotten to the point where I can talk about the Cordao de Ouro Batizado I attended back in late August (sigh, I really am slow...). I'm obviously not a member of their group, so I just attended the workshops. No nickname or new cord for me. Yup, nearly 3 years of training and still a nameless noobie. Ohhhh yeah, that's how it goes sometimes.

Anyways, the workshop was scheduled for the last weekend in August, starting with a Friday night class, then two on Saturday, then one Sunday morning followed by the Batizado in the afternoon. Simple enough schedule. But as it was designed, implemented and attended by capoeiraistas, it was bound to go off the rails and fuck up in a big way somewhere during the weekend. And that train wreck would be Friday night. Hehe.

The Friday night workshop was scheduled to start at 5pm at some performance hall not too far north of my apartment. The maps were posted, and everything seemed to be pretty straight forward. Take "X" subway line until "Y" stop, disembark, then walk a couple of blocks to the performance hall, which was supposed to be attached to some community center or something. Should be a very noticeable and hard to miss building. Easy, nothing to it. Well, it wasn't. I arrived at the requested subway station and exited via the suggested exit, but from there the map was useless. For starters, the location of the subway exit in relation to the roads/alleys around it was way off. So I really wasn't exactly sure which way to go from that particular area. After choosing one direction (I believe following where the directions said to go) and realizing after a few hundred feet that it wasn't the right direction, I called up Andy, one of the other foreign folks that would be attending. He arrived shortly thereafter with a different map of the area that he had printed from Google Maps and actually had the area laid out properly. Silly me, of course I should have gotten another map. Of course the map that the group gave was wrong.

Well, we set off and quickly found the library that the map showed as being connected to the hall/studio we were looking for. However, we didn't find where exactly we were supposed to enter this hall. Do we go through the library and enter that way? Do we need to go around? Is the hall even attached to this library? More questions. Good. Well, we wandered around for a bit and didn't happen to run into anybody from the group (not a good sign) and then finally gave up and decided to call Zumbi the instructor for Cordao de Ouro. To our dismay, we were at completely the wrong place. Surprisingly, it wasn't our fault. We had gone to the correct place as according to the directions given. Sadly, the directions posted were absolutely wrong and the location we would be practicing at were not anywhere near us. Shit, shit, shit. So much for showing up on time....we are gonna have to do a fuck ton of pushups or whatever for coming late to a workshop. So after exchanging several text message directions with the korean members of the group, we were able to give the taxi driver a concrete location and we were off. That's not to say it wasn't difficult to get there anyways. Turns out the group reserved a performance hall on the top of a freaking mountain. At least that's what it felt like. One small little road that keep going up and up, which was very hard to navigate and even harder to find in the first place on the taxi driver's GPS.

But in time, we did arrive, prepared for a not so nice reception, given our tardy nature. Cept, we arrived about 30 minutes late and we were one of the first ones there. There were about 5 other people there already but none of them were the instructors. Big FAIL. 2 of the instructors coming in from the San Francisco area were either still on their way from the airport, Zumbi the local instructor was still working, and the Mestre was on route (we thought). So the few of us that were there just kinda wandered around, stretched a bit and generally vegged. We also weren't 100% sure we were even at the right venue this time around. What a mess.

But after a considerable amount of time waiting, the mestre did arrive and we were able to start the workshop 1 hour to 1.5 hours late. And it was good. Very good. I just wish Cordao de Ouro didn't play so much on the ground. My old grandpa knees and general large size make getting down low really difficult and uncomfortable. Although there really isn't any martial art where you try and get really tall and touch the ceiling or get the cookie jar on the top shelf or something....too bad, I would be incredible at that martial art.

When the workshop finished was really when things got interesting. All 20 or so of us left as a group and it made for quite the sight. For starters, the high ranking instructors and mestres featured a dread locked, darker complexioned Brazilian, a dread locked Jamaican, a dread locked African-American, and a very big, very tall African-American. Just right there would be enough to have women gasping in the street, mothers shielding their children, and an air of shock, awe and terror. But you have to add to that a few tall white guys (myself included), a few white girls, and then a bunch of Koreans that are actually interacting with these foreign ingrates (that's probably the most shocking thing to some locals, that anybody would interact with these unsavory foreign characters). To top it all off, we were singing. And banging on drums. Pretty much the whole time. Did I mention that the locals wouldn't understand a word of what we were singing (quite loudly, I should add) or why we were dressed so strangely? Yeah, so we made a bit of a scene. And it was good. Sooooo good.

And those poor bastards that got on the bus while we were riding only to see 3/4's of the bus taken up with these same tall, scary people that look nothing like them singing in some sort of demon tongue for all they knew? Yeah, I'm surprised they didn't just get off the bus.

With workshops over, it was time for dinner. Thankfully the presiding mestre, Mestre Chicote from Cordao de Our Paris, was not a vegetarian. God damn that would have been difficult to find food for him. I mean, the vegetarian food is here, but finding the quantities needed to satisfy post-workshop appetites. So we found one of your standard meat restaurants (I really have no idea what meat we are eating most of the time, nor do I really care....but it was probably pork). The meal was good. There was eating. There was more singing. Actually come to think of it Mestre never really stops singing. But mostly there was this:



And a little of this:



Which I presume, lead to this:



That's the presiding Mestre for the workshops, Mestre Chicote from CDO Paris, modeling one of the super classy chef's aprons. Or is a monstrous bib? I don't know. Generally though, the group hung around eating and drinking for several hours (the pics above can attest to that). Good thing they seated us all alone on the top floor, cuz we were making a bit of a ruckus (at least by Korean standards....meaning we were talking at more than a whisper in a public place). The problem with all this merriment is that there were workshops starting at 8 or 9am the next morning. So at some point the fun had to stop and the sleep had to start. However, I underestimated the capoeirista's will to live it up, so to speak. I finally called it a night at 1am, thus getting home and in bed by 2am (for a solid 5 hours of sleep). From what I'm told, the instructors and high-ranking guests stayed out till 3am. Yeah, professionals.

So for Saturday morning's workshops, I was understandably tired and goggy and fatigued. But it was okay, cuz in the end capoeiristas were capoeiristas and we didn't start on time. Late, late, late. The capoeirista's way. But eventually the workshops got underway and everybody learned some stuff. And discovered new places in which to ache. Here's a pic of me hanging my head in exhaustion or shame after f'ing up the combination again. Could be both really.



I'm the one in blue. With the dreadlocks.

After the workshop we headed out for lunch before moving to a new venue for the afternoon workshop. Here we are eating.







Did you find me? I'm in the last picture. Yup, the one with the glasses. Yeah, the Asian one. That's me.

For the afternoon entertainment we had a workshop, plus a performance by a samba/percussion group who are friends of the group or something. Either way, we got a free performance and everybody got up and was dancing around. Well, I wasn't obviously. I'm a white male. When I dance, kittens die. Would you dance if this little guys life was in your hands? I think not.



Anyways, here's a shot or two of the performers. They were no Handphibians when it comes to percussion but they were pretty good.





As for the workshop, I can't remember what they did, as I sat out on account of being an old, crotchety, sore, old man. So while the other folks worked out, I stretched out, sat around, ate prunes, complained about how things were better back in "my day", and other old man activities.

Some more shots of the afternoons workshop.



Those were the two visiting profesors from CDO Bay Area in California, Xango (on the left) and Berinjela. Also, don't laugh. Berinjela's face is always like that. It was a horrible debilitating accident when he was just a lad. No, its not funny.





That evening the group reconvened for more food, good times and drinks. This time we took the visting instructors to Hongdae to see all the pretty woman and all the ridiculous outfits. The instructors wanted burgers, so we searched around until we could find an acceptable place. After sandwiches, it was off to the Reggae hookah bar/club. Yes, Seoul does actually have one. I'm not lying. It does exist. It is small, and unknown to most, but it does exist. Even more shocking there are Korean rasta-wannabes. You know those white kids from school that grew dreads (or tried), talked about smoking reefer all the time (and maybe did actually smoke it from time to time), worshipped Bob Marley (and probably wore a Bob Marley shirt 3-5 times a week), and wore the crazy multi-color parachute pants? Now imagine that guy is Korean. Boom, now you've got the weirdo dude dancing all by himself in the corner at the Rasta bar. I'd laugh at his goofy ass more if I wasn't busy applauding him for doing something different from the rest of the crowd. Doesn't even matter what it is. It's different. For that you earn my respect goofy dancing rasta guy.

Sunday had another morning workshop, but it was more of the same. More aches, more pains, more, more, more.

Then it was time for the batizado. So we all traveled back to the performing arts hall on the mountain where we trained on Friday. This time everybody made it. Hooray! Not too many visitors made it up, but we did have some big wig from SK come up and give a speech as well as a representative from the Brazilian embassy (that was pretty cool). First up, was the Afro dance performance by the CDO members. As I am not part of their group, I didn't have to perform. Which was okay with me, as the ladies had to wear small little skirts, while the guys had to perform shirtless while wearing grass skirts. Seeing some of the guys dance around in grass skirts was funny enough, but one of the guys had too big of a waist, so the skirt only went about 3/4's of the way around. The rest? Just his underwear hanging out. Because I'm still 12 years old on the inside, I found the whole thing very entertaining.





Otherwise, the batizado was just as you would expect. The mestre and instructors had some fun at the newbies expense when baptizing them. Everybody got to get up and play (though not as much as I would have liked). Twas good.

Here's the sweet batizado shirts.



And all the newly baptized CDO Seoul members. Great work guys!



With the batizado finished, there was time for one last meal together before parting. As you might have expected, there was more drinking and merriment.







And Andy wants to show you his really great dental work. Or something like that. I really have no idea what was going on in this pic.

And so ended the CDO batizado weekend. Capoeira and fun for the whole family. Ohhh, wait, then there was this. No idea when or where this was taken during the weekend but it makes me smile. Humorous and possibly blasphemous (are the Hindus against people imitating the holy symbols?). A perfect combination. Till next time folks.



All photos from Aide and Eunmi. Thanks ladies.

Updating, Updating, Updating

Yeah, since the last few posts were dealing with stuff that happened 4 months ago, I figured it was time to delve into stuff that is actually affecting me at this present time. And once that's done, its just Batizado, Halloween and I'm finally caught up! Wow, this has taken way, way too long to get done.

First off, the weekend exploits. Man, its been crazy couple of weeks. A whirlwind of drinking, partying, whoring and sexing (sometimes with women!!!). It's been nuts. Hahahahah. Man, I'm a terrible liar. I can't even make myself believe the nonsense I just spouted. Ohh well. In actuality, the weekends have been the exact opposite of what I just described. Fine by me, but not much to write about. I at least have been going to areas where some of the craziness I dream about could take place, as Jethro and I normally grab dinner in one of the ritzy nightlife areas. So there is plenty to look at for me, but thats it. Although, that does seem to be more my style. The whole staring from a distance thing. Especially if the female doesn't know I'm watching and I'm hiding behind some sort of tree, building, lightpole, etc....sigh, I am so pathetic.

Otherwise the weekends have been capoeira, capoeira, capoeira. Mostly its been training with the Cordao de Ouro group and they seem to be happy to have me around. But that might be because they enjoy laughing at me when I go in the roda. I guess I make all kinds of noises and weird sounds when I play. Supposedly I even, when Im surprised by something, say the Korean equivalent of "Oh, crap!" or "Ooops" whilst playing. I also am told I have a ridiculous, goofy look on my face when I play too. Which is good, I guess, as I used to have a really tense scowl when I played. I guess that means I'm more relaxed when I play, which is good. Still wish they would stop laughing at me though.....Probably gonna have to start kicking some people in the face to get my cred back. Certainly gonna take quite a few kicks to faces to make up for that time where the instructor stepped on my capoeira pants and pinned me to the ground and then kicked me around for fun. God, I got my ass handed to me that time.

While on the theme of restoring my cred as a hard-ass (hey, don't laugh), a strange development has come about with some of my students. I've had to deal with their mean cat-calls and slander for months now, such as the constant chants of "Eric Bad Boy!!!" or "Eric NOT KIND!!" or "Ms. Eric Teacher" or "전봇대 (telephone pole) teacher"....sob, sob, sob, girls are so mean. Those comments really hurt. Anyways, the abuse from students escalated this week. While watching across the soccer field/playground on the way to the cafeteria, several 4th grade girls (who, I might add, I don't even teach anymore and haven't in 6 months) ran up to me and started hanging on me. Now, one of the girls, I imagine the ringleader, had been harassing me for some time now. When coming back from lunch, she would follow directly behind me, sometimes holding onto my jacket and generally acting as my shadow. And after following me for some time, she would begin shoving in the back to get me to go where she wanted. And she would shove so hard that I swear I must have gotten whiplash. It was positively dreadful. Hey, don't laugh these 10 year olds are really strong!

Anyways, this group of troublemakers had surrounded me and started hanging on my legs to keep me from going anywhere, while others tried to jump on my back or grabbed my jacket hood in an attempt to yank me down. All while this assault was going on, the girls were shouting for me to "Sit down!" in English. So while the girls may be hoodlums and vagabonds, they at least seem to have learned something in English. Hooray. Eventually, with my legs firmly planted on the ground thanks to a child weighing down each one and enough children trying to shove me over, I came crashing down. This was when the girls began their true dastardly deed. Several immediately jumped on me, probably rupturing a lung or bruising a kidney or something. Then the 8 or 10 of them decided they wanted to carry/drag me somewhere so they each grabbed a limb and attempted to carry me off to their headquarters to continue their horrid acts. Unable to lift me, they settled for trying to pry off my shoes and run away with them. They did manage to steal my glasses as well, but they returned those almost immediately. Also unable to get my shoes off, they settled for shoving a chunk of snow/ice down my shirt collar. It was at this point that some older female students (5th grade, I believe) came to my rescue. They offered to serve as my bodyguards, and I quickly accepted. They helped chase off the younger girls and they escorted me back to my classroom. Those girls now serve as my bodyguards and escort across the playground, so those other fiends reappear. And they only charge a small fee of candy. Well worth it I think.

So you see, here at school I also have a problem with restoring my rep as a tough, scary foreigner who is not to be messed with. Getting jumped on and having snow shoved down one's shirt by 4th grade girls has a way of eroding said cred. Perhaps I will have to get severe and start throwing children through windows or something if they try to hang on me. yeah, that would probably work. Good thinking Wallin.

And yes, all of the preceding events did in fact take place....I have a strange relationship with my students. And in case you needed any more evidence to prove that children do strange things, well here it is.

The other event at school has been the drama over my ticket home. That all started last week when my co-teacher came up to me and asked whether or not I get my plane ticket home paid for by the district office. For the record, the contracts state that the district office must pay for it (well, technically they pay some set fee of about 1,200 dollars and its up to me to find the ticket). My co-teacher knew this policy, as I'm not the first teacher at this school, and thus was confused when she received an official memo from the district office stating that I would not receive plane fare. I was confused and outraged, as this kind of run around/disobeying of the contract BS has nagged me for my entire time here. I had hoped that this drama was done for good when I moved to this school, but sadly no. I immediately contacted the teacher rep/middleman to the district office and she said that the memo was mistaken and that I would receive the cash. Several days later we received an explanation from the office. I had forgotten about the special addendum thingy the district made me sign because I did the weird almost 6 months thingy before this. In it it explicitly says that they will not pay my plane fare home but will instead give a 2,000 dollar extension bonus that teachers normally get when they extend their contract after the first year. So in the end, I make a little bit more cash out of it. Good.

However, I still have to get the cash. And at that point I still hadn't. Well, turns out that my present school had changed secretaries during the period of my arrival and they had forgotten about that money I was owed and hadn't set aside enough in their budget. So I guess the school had to go crawling back to the district office to ask for the additional money. Embarrassing, but the district office obliged and now I have my flight money. I just don't know when I will be able to go home. See, my contract ends on Monday February 28th, and the previous week (Monday the 2lst through Friday the 25th) we have off from school. Well, at that point, I will still have 5-7 days of paid vacation left with no other times in which to use them, so I've been floating the idea of using my vacation that last week and then just going home early, like on Saturday the 19th, instead of the 29th or whenever my contract is actually up. I asked the co-teacher and she saw nothing wrong with the scenario and just had to get permission from our principal and vice-principal, who seem to be pretty decent guys and seem to like me well enough. So I'm in, right? Well, maybe not. The next day the co-teacher said she read something in a guidebook (what?) that says I'm not allowed or not supposed to do that, so I probably won't be able to. But she still hasn't talked to the principal or vice-principal, so that might not be the case. Argdlggalskdjlfksj. I just wanna buy my ticket as soon as possible, before it gets outrageously expensive. Currently Delta has a ticket for 1,063 bucks that would fly me straight to Detroit from Seoul, layover for an hour, then jump to Green Bay on the 19th, which all sounds wonderful to me, as I would get in to Green Bay on a Saturday night, making it very easy for the parents to pick me up, and I'd be in in plenty of time to rest up and make the big capoeira workshops in Minneapolis the next weekend. But if I have to wait till the end of my contract to leave? Bye, bye capoeira workshops with Mestre. Boo. Here's hoping it all plays out.

The Family in Korea (part 4)

Well, honestly, the last 3 or 4 days of the trip we didn't really do much of anything, so this should be a brief post. Should be.

Well, for Sunday, we were super tired from all the stuff we didn't do the day before because of the shitty weather. I know that doesn't make any sense, but we didn't have any excuse besides just feeling lazy. So we sat around my apartment till after noon, just doing laundry. After lunch, we finally headed out for my sight-seeing around Seoul and Jamie tagged along as well. We decided to wander around, near, up and over Seoul Tower. Taking the cable car up was briefly contemplated, but the weather was actually good and nobody's legs were broken, so up we walked. It didn't hurt our cause that the lines for the cable car were so long that it was probably faster to walk up the damn thing. And I'm sure my dad made some comment about the cable car being terribly structurally unsound, so nobody else felt like getting in the damn thing, either. The trails are nicely paved and certainly nothing difficult but I always seem to end up going the wrong way, though having signs pointed in both directions saying "This way to Seoul Tower" would do that (although both are technically correct, as Seoul Tower is on the back side of the Mt. and both directions will lead you there, albeit rather slowly). Also, the trails that slope up the mountain and appear to be leading you towards the peak...well, after a few hundred yards they switch directions and start sloping down towards the bottom. Messes with the head, it does. But in time, we did manage to find the top. It was hard to say who was in worse shape when we reached the top: dad with his bad knees or Jamie with his general out of shape self. Honestly, it was probably Jamie.

Once at the top, Jamie and I wandered around making fun of all the cliche couples nonsense. And there was a lot of it, so that probably took up a good hour or two. The couple's padlocks and couple's wax hands were probably the silliest. Yes you could pay some excessive fee and then hold hands with your partner and they would make a plaster mold of your holding hands. In theory, the padlocks to symbolize the locking up/joining/imprisoning of one person to another are kinda cute. It seems to lose its effect, in my opinion, when every single couple in Seoul does it, or so it would appear by the sheer numbers of locks at the Tower. Maybe, just maybe my opinion of these things was soured by the fact that a considerable amount of the view of the Seoul skyline was obscured/wasted by these padlocks. That might have something to do with it. That and I hate mass-produced "gifts from the heart", or whatever you wanna call them.

Beyond that, we found a nice spot to sit and people watch with a nice box of movie theater style popcorn (which is very uncommon here, outside of the theaters, and thus very much appreciated by this fella). There was also a musical performer playing some solid tunes. I don't even remember what country's traditional music he was playing but I just remember thinking, "Man, that isn't lousy Korean music....FUCK YEAH!!!" Here's the gang sitting, listening to music and eating popcorn.



As the evening drew near, we parted with Jamie, traveled back to the apt, bought several street food kebobs for very, very cheap, and watched TV until we went to bed. Exciting I know.

Monday the 16th saw my mom and I striking out alone, as father dearest had to actually meet with the business people for which he technically came to Korea for (a few hours of meetings seems a small price to pay for a free ticket for him...and all his food purchases and stuff can be written off...a very good deal). Well, my mom wanted to see my school and how schools are run in Korea, how classes are structured, blah, blah, etc (basically just boring stuff that only other teachers would actually care about). So I showed her around the English room, the office, the general premises and introduced to my co-teacher. Nothing of note, as we didn't stick around too long, as I didn't feel at all like spending time during my vacation at work. I think my feelings about being at work during the holiday can be summed up pretty concisely with the following picture:



Yeah, I was friggin' psyched to be there. Ohhh hell yeah.

Well, with still several hours to play with sans Bob complaining about stuff he doesn't like, we had planned to visit a notable garden outside of Seoul. Sure, we could have gone to a garden with Bob in tow, but then Mom and I would have ended up strangling him within the first 10 minutes just to stop his whining and complaining. And really I don't have intention of killing my father. He's still too financially valuable. So off to the garden we went....except the weather was shit....again. Damn. We briefly contemplated going in spite of the weather but wandering around a garden with no sun while constantly under umbrellas to avoid the rain began to sound less and less enticing. Well, we are stuck in town now and outdoorzy stuff is out of the question....I know, lets watch a movie! Cool. Toy Story 3 is playing at the local theater. But wait, its only the version dubbed into Korean, which would be incredibly lame and impossible for my mom to understand. Uggg. This is how we ended up spending most of the day sitting in my apartment watching a Korean movie I had saved on my computer. Not a terrible fall-back plan, but it still seems very lame for my parents first and only real trip to Korea. Ohhhhhhh well.

While sitting at the apartment, we did get to talk to Alyse via Skype, which is always a treat. She regaled us with stories of her adventures in Peru (at least the rated G stories, as my mom was in the room), and talked about how nice it was to be back in Wisconsin, which just made me angry and very, very jealous. Soon, Wisconsin. Soon. After talking and movie watching for most of the afternoon our dear father arrived back home and we went out for Korean barbecue. Coincidentally, Korean barbecue happens to be about the only Korean food my parents felt like eating. Not like I can blame them for being snoody or picky or something. Hell, if I had my way, K-barbecue is probably the only K food I would eat either. They would eat the harmless veggie dishes set up as side dishes, but mostly it was just cooked meat, cooked meat and a bit more cooked meat. No complaints there.

After dinner was finished, we watched more tv and called it a night.

Tuesday the 17th was our last full day together and the weather finally got its fucking act together, so we were actually able to go out sightseeing. 'Bout damn time. Tuesday's destination was one of the bigger palaces downtown that even I had never been to. This one, Changdeokgung Palace, also featured quite the backyard. For the King and Queen's secret and personal garden/forest, the highly regarded 78 acre "Secret Garden" or Biwon. The palace was the same old same old thing as all the others obviously, so that didn't interest me too much. But the garden? That I was looking forward to. I can't help it. I like green. So here's some shots for the palace proper:











Yup, still way, way, way too big for this country. I really get tired of crouching and bending over all the time.

The garden? Wonderful. Not much to say really. Ponds, trees, gardens, little waterfalls, whatever. It was so wonderful and green and quiet that you could forget you were in the middle of one of loudest, dirtiest, busiest, and most crowded places on the planet. Frankly, this was what I had been looking for the entire time I've lived in Seoul, namely a way to escape Seoul (that doesn't require hours and hours of driving or traveling). Here's the pics:

























The remainder of the day consisted of eating some strange sandwiches at a street vendor (they called them "toast" and sure the bread was toasted but they had egg and some veggies on there and other goodies, but all that was over powered by some unknown sauce that really wasn't so good...I'm never a fan of "special sauce"....transparency is very important with sandwiches), more wandering around town, then packing up and riding a taxi to our airport hotel to be ready for the 11am flight out the next day.

Wednesday the 18th brought all the goodbyes and farewells and tears and hugs and all that jazz. Overall, I was disappointed with the vacation because I really wanted to show the parents more stuff, more food, more places, more everything, but it would seem it was not meant to be. There is only so much I can manage when the weather is shit 80% of the time and the parents are content (even on the nice days) to just sit around and drink beer all day. I can only push and prod so hard. If they don't want to move, they don't want to move. In the end, the parents were satisfied and really enjoyed their trip, because, realistically, all my mom needed to have a good vacation was to see me and all my dad needed to have a good vacation was lots of time to sleep, plenty of cheap, drinkable alcohol, and not having to pay anything (done, done, and done). I guess I have pretty low maintenance parents. Here's a pic of the final weepy farewell and then that's all folks.



More Pics: see the facebook album "that's no earthquake, that be giants a rumblin" (part 1 and 2)

The Family in Korea (Part 3)

With the typhoon moving through the day before and dragging all the clouds and lousy weather with it, Thursday the 12th was actually a gorgeous day. The weather wouldn't last as this would be the only day out of 4 on the beach where you could actually, well, use the beach. So after getting up and grabbing some grub, we hit the beach. Not much to say about that. We were still in Korea, so obviously we saw alot of people wearing t-shirts while in the water, and in some extreme cases it appeared as if people put on more clothes before coming out to the beach and going swimming, instead of disrobing at the beach as one would expect. I get that many really strive for a very pale and unhealthy looking shade of white for their skin and that Koreans can be even more image conscious and insecure about their appearance than Americans, but really. I've been wet before with shirts and clothes on. It's not comfortable, what with how heavy and bulky and uncomfortable just a simple t-shirt gets when wet. Suffering for beauty, I guess.

Also, the beach, as it was the more family-friendly and family oriented of the Busan beaches, was seriously lacking in regards to pretty ladies wandering the beach. That's about 90% of why people come to the beach, right? Although, in fairness, there may have been tons of attractive women, but you just couldn't tell under the t-shirts and baggy sweatpants they were swimming in. I kid, I kid. Not everybody was dressed that way. Hell, its only been in the last 10 or so years that its become okay for women to wear bikinis at the beach. Yeah, mull that over in your head for a bit. Imagine how awful it must have been before then. Hooray for the corrupting influence of the West! What would I do with out it?

The beach did have one very interesting aspect to it. Thanks to the previous day's typhoon, a lot (and I mean a lot) of seaweed washed up on shore. Tons of the shit. The worst hit areas were almost unusable, as far as the beach went. The city employed a small army of volunteers (well, I hope they were paid for their thankless job, but given the quality of the "work" put in by some, I would wager they were volunteers) to clean up the seaweed, but really not technology or machines of any sort, making the clean up exceedingly slow, in my humble opinion. The beaches are Busan's bread and butter in the summer and the only thing drawing people to this particular region of Busan, so you should probably put up a better effort than that. Ohhh well, the seaweed was finally gone by Saturday, the 3rd day since the typhoon rolled through. A pic of the folks in action:



And just for good measure since I forgot to include these pics before, we have some shots of the beach at night. Feel free to "oooohhh" and "ahhhhhh" all you like.







Having lounged on the beach long enough, we then moved downtown to visit the fish market and the harbor. But not before I analyzed my sunburns. Despite having gangly ass arms that I can nearly drag on the ground when I walk, my arms are not long enough or flexible enough to reach certain spots on my back, so my mom was kind enough to help me, while I put sunscreen on the rest of the body. So where do you think I got sunburn? Yup, all the places where I put on the sunscreen. The places where my mom did it? Perfectly fine. No burn at all....sigh. I am helpless.

Anyways, the Nalgalchi Fish Market was just the same as I remembered it. Loud, smelly, crowded and bustling. So much bustling. See in the previous times I had gone, the old ladies running the stands had been more quiet, more docile. I think it was because it was winter and they were in a mini-hibernation of sorts, like bears. But this time, in late summer? They were fully alert and on the hunt. Or maybe they were just loud. Either way, the parents enjoyed the messy, chaotic nature of it while we strolled. Again, they consistently asked what the hell alot of the things in the tanks and on the tables for sale, but as usual I didn't have any of the answers. We did however, leave the market with something we didn't enter. A purchase, you might say. What? Peanuts. You heard right, peanuts. No these "peanuts" aren't some weird sea animal, like "sea cucumbers" or "sea penises". No these were just regular peanuts. Yes, leave it to our wacky foreigner family to go to the best fish and seafood market in Korea and leave with peanuts. But that's all due to my dad's need to always have snack food with him at all times. Peanuts, nuts, chips, crackers, it doesn't matter. Without them he would cease to exist or something. It's the only reason I can understand why he always needs the stuff.





Once finished with the market and the harbor, we trekked over to the nearby Yongdusan Park to get a good view of the city. Once again, we decided against going up the tower and looking out over Busan, but this time for different reasons. Last time it was because we didn't have time or care enough. This time it was because we had an engineer in the group. Those of you who don't have an engineer in the family perhaps may not understand this, so I'll elaborate. Whenever we go out with my father, he comments on the construction/design/structural integrity of various structures. Usually his consensus is terribly uplifting. On the Giant Drop at Six Flags? "Do you realize that the only thing keeping you from crashing to your death is that tiny little metal cable? And how often do you think they check the structural integrity of the wire. For all we know, that wire could go at any time." Charming. As for the tower, he said that the base was simply too thin to adequately support the top, so its a liability to fall over. So we didn't go up. Instead we sat on the lookout at the base and watched the city and the weirdos around us. Mainly we watched as the people lined up to take their picture at a free (or maybe it wasn't free) picture stand. Group after group after group lined up to have their pictures taken, despite not being able to keep the picture. You simply used the machine to take a picture of yourself there in the park, looked at it on the screen after it was taken and then you left or took another one. Frankly I don't get the point. You have your own camera, use that. Then you can at least keep them. All I could think when the groups lined up for it was "Man, Koreans fucking love taking pictures of themselves". Although, in their defense, from what I hear, it might be all Asians that love taking photos of themselves.

Once done with the park, we headed back near our beach but stopped off at the big beach where everybody who's everybody has to go. Haeundae Beach, the most famous in Korea, and thus the one that everyone has to go to. I would never bother trying to use the beach to swim, as like everything else in Korea, it is massively overcrowded and I hear they stack people 2 or 3 high just to fit everybody in. No thanks. But at night, just walking the beach, man it doesn't get better. Seriously. Apparently, all the pretty people in Busan and all the ones down visiting on vacation have nowhere else to go, so they just sit along the boardwalk there. They just sat there, being pretty. Nothing else. Just sitting. It does look kinda odd to see those people dressed so nicely at the beach, but after seeing people walk around the ski resort (outside in the snow, mind you) in high heels, I won't ever be surprised at where people wear clothes like that. The view was so wonderful that I came back the next day with my friend Danny. It was that good. I had to go back for seconds.

Now for some pics from that day.













Friday the 13th (...gasp) saw no sun or anything else necessary for nice beach weather. Overcast, windy and cool does not nice beach times make. So we just gave up on the beach and instead headed to my favorite sight in Busan, Taejongdae Park. The coastal park along the southernmost edge of town never fails to disappoint and this time was no different. Nothing particularly of note to mention. The greenery and trees? Still green and purdy. The rock formations on the the coast? Still rocky and still amazing to look at. The other visitors? Still goofy and good for a laugh from time to time (more like all the time, but I'll be generous). From the perfectly healthy young people who ride the park train just to get out of walking a couple of kilometers to the ladies who insist on wearing stilettos while walking through the park, even in the areas where the "path" is in fact a uneven and slippery rock face with no guard rail. I try to be a decent person and all, but I really can't guarantee I wouldn't laugh if someone rocking footwear like those ladies slipped and fell from the cliff face. Stupid is as stupid does, they say. I could talk more about the park, but I figure the pics can speak for themselves.

















Once done with the park, the family headed back to the hotel and the parents decided to lay low as they were tired from all the walking, leaving me free to head back to Haeundae Beach to meet up with my friend Danny and, you guessed it, stare at the locals some more. And if I had thought it was good the day before, then I hadn't seen anything. Since it was Friday night, everybody was out and about. I also finally learned why the hell everyone was there. Apparently Busan has a pretty weak club/nightlife scene and all the best clubs are in the basements of the hotels along the beach area here in Haeundae, meaning all the pretty people just linger on the beach waiting for the clubs to open. Which ends up being a huge win for me, as I can see all the sights of a club without having to pay 20 bucks or have to suffer through Soldja Boy music (and I'm aware I didn't spell his name right, but I really don't give a shit, I dislike him that much). The one weird thing that I still can't get used to about Asia is the lack of mingling between the sexes. All down the boardwalk we had groups of boys and girls, but none were mingling. Hell, some of the groups were basically touching they were sitting so close, yet no mingling. Perhaps this is how most of the world interacts between the sexes, and I'm just the weird American. All I know is that back home, in social/night-life settings like this, if the female at least has 2 eyes, a face, and minimal body hair, then somebody is gonna be humping up her leg. Ohhhh America, how I miss your crazy ass. So for the evening: ate a burger, lounged around a beach, creeped on pretty ladies. Sounds like a win by my book.

Our final day in Busan (Saturday the 14th) started just as shitily as the previous days: looking out the window, then cussing heavily when it becomes apparent that the weather is shit yet again. Yes, 4 days in Busan and 1 day on the beach. 25 percent. Awesome. So instead we lounged around the hotel and area, then headed back to Haeundae for lunch at this really awesome Korean pizza chain. I'm not sure how the name turns out when Romanized, but I think it would be something like "Papa Johns". Actually, exactly like that. From there we hopped the train back to Seoul, and got in in time to go grab dinner in the foreign district. Again we avoided Korean food like the plague and instead went for Indian food. We did get a bit of a chuckle when, after explaining to my parents how I had just randomly stumbled onto this restaurant when walking around in the area, we arrived at the restaurant to find that a transgender club had opened up in the basement. And with most of the adult clubs in the foreign district, they have dancers/employees standing outside the doors trying to draw in customers. So while squeezing past those barely robed silicone bosoms, I tried to explain that "this place wasn't here last time...honestly". Awkward. I probably neglected to mention that this hill the restaurant was on was one of the infamous hills of the district. Still not sure if it was the affectionately titled "hooker hill" or "homo hill". All this serves to show that I will wander through some pretty sleazy areas just to find decent Indian food. Cuz its worth it.

That's it for part 3 folks. Part 4 is coming soon and should wrap the whole thing up. Huzzah. Progress. Maybe someday soon I'll actually be writing about stuff that happened within the last week or two. A man can dream, can't he?

Pics: Facebook album "That's no earthquake, that be giants a rumblin" (part 1)