Yesterday one of my fifth graders–we’ll call him Eager Ernest–approaches me and issues a request:

“Uh, Kimchi teacher?”
“yes.”
“Can you tell me where the bathroom is?”

The question seems to stumble out his mouth and he nods his head as he says each word the way one does while concentrating on reciting something from memory.

Now Ernest is one of my lower level students, but he probably gives more effort than the other kids in his class. He’s the kid that, during role-play exercises, waits until the end to volunteer so he can practice a bit, making absolutely sure he says his lines correctly. Everyday before class he comes in early so he can personally greet me with the same stock english greeting all Korean elementary schoolers learn:

“Hello. How are you? I’m fine thank you. How about you?”

Still, I’m a bit confused at his question in the hallway. Why the hell is is he asking me where the bathroom is when he knows perfectly well that it’s located mere steps from his homeroom?

Nonetheless I direct him towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. He shakes my hand and thanks me before running off.

Climbing the stairs back to my classroom, I’m still struggling to make sense of the whole exchange. Then as I sit down at my desk, I finally get it.

Ernest’s request for directions to the bathroom had nothing to do with actually finding out where it was. He just wanted to have a conversation with me in english and ‘where is the bathroom?’ is one of the few stock english phrases he knows. It was as if he just wanted a to chat with an old friend, albeit through a limited vocabulary. As I responded to his question he listened attentively and even looked in the direction I pointed, giving a few nods of the head to indicate that he understood.

Without knowing it, Eager Ernest might have shown me that I’m actually doing more than just drinking soju and deskwarming here in Korea–not a bad revelation at all.

It’s the little things, my friends. Pay attention to the little things.

Ciao,

Kimchi Dreadlocks

Apparently Namhae has killer bees. Or something like that.

Korean Father was out very early in the morning on top of an isolated mountain mowing the grass around his mother's grave, during the last days of the summer's heat. It has to be done otherwise it would become unkempt and that would be disrespectful, and since graveyards in Korea are generally small and don't employ anyone to maintain them, it's a family responsibility. The graves of those with no nearby or surviving relatives can often easily be spotted as isolated patches of chaos in an otherwise ordered scene.

This particular morning Korean Father was stung three times by large hornets. It seems that this is OK as long as they don't get you in the head. Then you die. Really. In fact I understand that earlier this year a forty-two year old farmer died in Namhae after this happened to him, and there have been other deaths and incidents. The fourth sting caught Korean Father right between the eyes. His right eye began to lose focus, his lips numbed, he started to lose movement in his jaw, and his arms and legs weakened. He called a friend who's the head of a health clinic, and he phoned for an ambulance, which had to negotiate its way to the top of the mountain Korean Father had walked up. Fortunately there is a road, of sorts, although it's one of those Korean ones you really don't want to look down over the side of.

Fortunately with rapid treatment Korean Father quickly recovered, unlike some other unfortunate victims, although his face was still swollen days later.

Before city dwellers lull themselves into a false sense of security, according to the JoongAng Daily the Busan Fire Department had to administer first aid to 145 people this year, so clearly it's not an issue just confined to the countryside. And while we have a lot of bees and wasps (hornets) where I'm from, they pale in comparison to the Asian Giant Hornet, which grows up to two inches (50mm) in length, and injects a venom so strong it can dissolve human tissue.

So it seems like this is an important safety tip, beware of Korea's killer hornets...

I went to Taejongdae and took a ferry ride around the island with two Korean friends. They looked confused when I started singing The Lonely Island’s I’m On A Boat. “Like Kevin Garnett, anything is possible” did not translate over very well. 

We fed the seagulls with shrimp chips. My Korean friends laughed because I would eat a chip for every few chips I would throw at the birds. I was hungry and I don’t think the chips are good for the birds.

We got off the boat at one point and climbed up a long set of uneven stairs set on a rocky mountainside. Maneuvering the steps was a little tricky with heels, especially with the ajummas yelling at me to eat/buy their seafood that was crawling around in dinky buckets of water. As I walked by, a fish jumped out by my feet, and an ajumma quickly plopped it back in the bucket. She didn’t even flinch. I, of course, gasped in surprise. The ocean is not always my friend.