Introduction to the World of Competitive Eating

About a month ago, I was informed that Seoul would be hosting an amateur, confirmedly American-style gluttony festival (i.e., a 'competitive eating competition') hosted by the Korean corporation, NY Hot Dog & Coffee. Given my citizenship, proclivity to revel in overeating, and a lack of aversion to stomach pains, I was truly amazed that I'd never participated in one of these kinds of events. Guess that I'd never been presented with a comfortable place to publicly display food binging. Nothing could keep me from embracing this golden chance. Further, as if there was any need for additional encouragement, the presenting company would be offering prizes for the best eaters AND the event would be highly publicized afterwards. You're telling me there's a free lunch? And I'll be famous for it?! And I also might win stuff!?

Well, I'll prematurely let the cat out of the bag, but I didn't win any TV sets or iPads. However, there was sooo much more to gain & let me share...

Preparing to stuff our faces with carcinogenic meat products:

In addition to the free meal and notoriety, it was fantastic to learn about a new sport. I use the word sport, because if ice fishing (to which I can't see the lure), cricket (whose attraction is insectuously pathetic), and toe wrestling (which needs no pun, as it stands on its own) qualify, then eating certainly does. What better way to overcome nature and push the limits of human achievement than shoving processed deceased animal trimmings down one's gullet?

One minute into the competition, I was still a bit hungry. That feeling would be nonexistent for the next 48 hours.

For another oddity, this company that hawks an unambiguously American cuisine (well, as close as possible), is Korean. Throughout my time abroad, I've constantly come across this US-centric phenomenon. This usually produces good results (case in point), but never ceases to feel unsettling each time a McDonald's moves into a new location.

It appears that everywhere on this planet, one constantly sees similar examples of this: Turkish food in China, Malaysian clothing in Alaska, Hungarian kaleidoscopes in South Africa. So come to think of it, I guess that a New York sausage product in Korea isn't that odd. I reckon that almost anyone can get their hands (or mouths) on anything manufactured and promoted by other humans. Cheers to a smaller planet!







We are truly in the presence of greatness:

1st place finisher!

A Tale of Heroism

This story begins with an extensive journey beginning with a Saturday afternoon search for Halloween costumes throughout the metropolis that is Seoul proper (the largest city in the OECD developed world). After all, my favorite holiday is only a few short weeks away, and I still have no idea of whom I should dress up. Considerations have been Gandhi, Jesus, or a 'Father' Teresa character. I'm still trying to pin down an idea, and will hopefully have something before this weekend. But I digress. The point being, I spent the better part of the day traveling around the city, scouring every costume and uniform shop that I can find.

I then meet up with a group of friends to attend the annual Seoul Fireworks Festival. The festival takes place on a small island in the middle of the Han river, in an area known as Yeoido. The location is not a convenient one, so it took a considerable length of time to finally get there. So after several hours of traveling, we eventually arrive at a large intersection which has been cordoned off for us spectators. Our longer than expected journey caused us to miss the beginning of the show, but our struggles proved worth the humungous hassle, as the firework displays were perhaps the finest ones I've ever witnessed. And to think that during the week I wasn't even convinced the show was worth seeing.

Here's a taste of what some spectators were able to see:


















Seoul had been expecting a huge turnout for this show, which was well founded, as it seemed like the entire city was crammed onto this tiny island. Our group was crammed into an insignificant patch of real estate among the throng of humanity. We were standing on the edge of a sizable highway, behind a guardrail which prevented cars & us from falling over the steep edge, directly in front of the launch pad. To our backs was a large grassy hill, about 30 feet high, and on top of that was row of small apartment complexes. Most people were also standing in the street, but there was a small group sitting at the bottom of the hill & an even smaller group, likely the homeowners, watching the show from the roofs of the apartments. The small hill became gradually steeper as it ascended, with roughly a 50 degree incline at the top, near the buildings.

As we and the crowd were enjoying the display, suddenly a dull voice rang out. It was a man mumbling something, which everyone initially ignored. The noises continued for several moments, and the crowd's attention was eventually drawn to the shrill screams of a woman. At first, the rushed & frantic Korean language was completely indecipherable to us. But after a moment of continued yelling, we all picked up on an unmistakable repeated string of exclamations, 'Ah-gi! Ah-gi!', one vocabulary word I correctly recalled to be baby.

Apparently, a stray spark from one of the fireworks landed on the upper part of the hill, in a pile of debris & a large growth of weeds. The weather has been especially devoid of rain lately, which has contributed to dry plants and much dead plant material - creating many areas ripe for quick ignition. All of these factors came together in a perfect storm to form to a small, but rapidly growing, brush fire. To make things worse, the nearest apartment building had a wooden patio in the rear, hanging over the very place where the brush fire was quickly spreading.

In the moments as everyone became aware of the pending disaster, the crowd was silent & there was an air of disbelief. Just then, we were all horrified as the brush fire began to spread up one of the wooden posts, directly below what appeared to be a small plastic carrier of some sort. Perhaps it was indifference, but I am guessing that everyone was paralyzed by their fear & no one quite knew what to do. So, relying on years of volunteer fire fighting training & an uncanny lack of regard for my personal safety, I spring into action & do what no one else was able to do. I shove my way through the crowd, leap over a short fence at the bottom of the hill, and sprint up the hill towards the apartment buildings. Within seconds, my face can feel the heat of the blaze that is quickly beginning to engulf the rear corner of the porch.

Now standing underneath the overhanging patio, I can distinctly hear the screams of a distraught mother and the faint whispers of a young child. Realizing the urgency of the situation, I scan the area for a ladder or staircase. Of course, there is nothing, so I quickly grab onto the only unconsumed post and begin to shimmy myself up to the porch - a climb of about 5 meters, or roughly 15 feet. In less than 5 seconds, I reach the top and haul myself onto the floor of the porch. The nearly inaudible cries of the infant child are now echoing in my ears as I reach for the tiny basket. Then, with the treasure safely in my hands, I raise him up to the outstretched arms of his crying mother.

Finding an inability to climb above to safety, I then turn around to find myself surrounded by the blaze. Realizing that the fire has spread to the side of the porch from where I came, essentially cutting off my only option of getting back down, my only course of action for escape is to jump from my current position. Again, a significant drop existed between the porch and the hill below, which would create a scary sight for most people. But with time not being on my side, I do the only thing that I can, secure my footing to the ledge, and jump towards the only grassy area beneath.

In order to break a large fall such as this, one must roll to distribute the shock from such a sudden cessation of motion. The sole option was to land on the steep part of the hill, so the roll didn't stop exactly where I was planning. I tumble head over heels down this huge hill, with my momentum finally being arrested by the fence at the bottom of the slope. And in true Murphy's Law fashion, the full brunt of the impact is absorbed by my face.

With the adrenaline still surging through my body, I am feebly able to get back on my feet, only to collapse into unconsciousness. The remaining details were hazy, at best, but involved being taken to the hospital to repair my wounds. The following is the aftermath, but was a small price to pay for the satisfaction of saving the life of a precious toddler:

These were the details and the order of events as I recall them. Any eyewitnesses to the scene are kindly invited to add their remembrances of the story.

Thanks to everyone, especially the kind men and women of the Seoul Firefighters Association, who have been so kind as to nominate me for the 2011 Civilian Rescue Awards.

Unlikely Remembrances

Yesterday was my final day of employment after working for the preceding 7 months at the easiest, most comfortable, and most convenient office that I’ve yet experienced (nay, ever HEARD OF). It began as a typical Thursday morning, with the customary 3 hours spent studying email and researching Facebook. We then had lunch, followed by the (only one of the day, and) final class with this month's studious and perfectly well-mannered trifecta of clients. They brought us snacks and cupcakes, we spent the next hour playing our favorite vocabulary game, and they fawned over and reminded us what great teachers we were before they left. A generally spectacular income method.

Before close of business, along with my colleagues, I spent the afternoon packing boxes in preparation for the movers’ arrival the following morning. One after another, there became bare shelves and bottoms of drawers that I didn’t even know existed. We then went all throughout the office taping little pink sheets to all of the necessary items that we would need for our new location. Upon closing the doors, the space looked so clean and empty, as if not a soul had ever spent a day within those walls.


Over the course of the kilometer walk back to my fantastic apartment, which felt like the longest time this trip had ever taken, I started to wonder what I will miss most about this work location. Maybe the ability to roll out of bed 30 minutes before clocking in for work.. Maybe the immediate proximity to the restaurants and establishments that I’ve loved for the past year.. Maybe being able to walk home for lunch to raid my fridge’s free leftovers; all while listening to a perfect musical selection for that particular day, creating the leftovers for the next day, and getting all of the daily chores done..

As I’m pondering the amazing life that I’ve been leading, a shadow shoves itself into the corner of my eye. Not surprisingly, it’s the regular gaggle of local mall employees that I see everyday, also leaving from their respective stores and kiosks. I hesitate for a second to let them pass, when at the end of the line, I experience yet another almost daily confrontation. It’s a man (who I have suitability begun calling ‘Kim Min Soo’), walking towards me in that distinctive unsteady gait. Originally, the path-crossings with Kim were merely annoyances, a 15-second waste of time that I was routinely forced to bear. Put in Western terms, Kim is just another irritating homeless drunk that reeks of soju and stale cigarettes. And if he were a fellow Westerner capable of speaking my language, I would probably despise him until the day I die due to his endless practice of pan handling. But he is not, and cannot. And so oddly, I do not. Consequently, since Kim is unable to ask me for my spare Won, all he can do is stare at me through his one good eye, put his hands above his head to form the shape of a heart, and flash me a toothless grin.

Mr. Kim’s been performing this strange behavior each time we’ve made eye contact for the past several months, which initially struck me as if he were searching for some universal nonverbal sign that he could display for me so that I would pity him & empty my pockets to fund his ethanol consumption habit (which is, by the way, literally what soju is). To which I mentally replied, “Hey Kim, how about a tip? Try getting a job, starting with cleaning that garbage you call a house.” So, needless to say, I’ve never shown him a penny. But he’s still continued to smile at me and sign his gigantic over-the-head heart, a service that I never once commissioned, or even acknowledged.

Obviously, I’ve given some thought to Mr. Kim lately, as he continues to confound me with each consecutive encounter. Possibly, he actually has been attempting to present me with some sort of kind gesture. Or maybe it really should confirm my original suspicions: that he’s just asking for money in the only way he knows how. But I’ve decided that his intention doesn’t even matter, and I’m best off by sticking with the former reasoning. So yesterday when Min Soo gave me the signal, I reached MY hands skyward, formed the heart-shaped gesture, and smiled back at him.

Here's an image of a much younger, cleaner version of Mr. Kim:

Easter Weekend at Temple

The events of this past weekend surprised and impressed me on multiple levels. First, there was the irony of this southeastern-US, Bible-Belt raised, former regular Christian church goer American spending one of the most significant foundational religious holidays at a temple of another religion. (Looking back, I believe this was my first ever Easter Sunday that I failed to spend several morning hours parked in a church pew. In fact, even last year, I still spent the holiday at a Korean church, even when I couldn't understand more than two spoken words of the entire service!) And then, taking the quirk of fate one step further, was that I completely forgot it was the Christian holiday until the day prior to our departure.

Joined by a group of friends, we were all exceptionally interested in learning about monk-life, and seeing (or being reminded) of what this practice was all about. So we did our research and scoured through books, picked a suitable temple to visit, and made preparations to take a spring weekend retreat. The weekend's activities also reinforced my fondness for templestays. This was my third similar Korean weekend stay, although the first time without a massive foreigner-heavy gaggle. The other two weekends were definitely enjoyable and relaxing. But now equipped with the abilities of hindsight and comparison, the previous stays felt very commercial and tourist-y. This time around, I was very much looking forward to an 'authentic' temple experience where I would be a big exotic (?, at least, according to Koreans) fish out of the collective small pond - to borrow from, and in an attempt to combine, two cliches.

Last week, the excitement of our pending trip was also combined with a fundamental apprehension that our group of non-Korean speaking foreigners were potentially entering into a world devoid of our native tongues. So this risk motivated me to brush up on some essential phrases and questions (although, there was a 93.8% probability that I wouldn't even slightly understand the given response to any of these questions!). Fortunately, our group was met by several other English speakers who happened to be living at the temple, and we were also enthusiastically (although, possibly begrudgingly) helped by several fellow group members who willingly provided translation services for us the entire weekend. So all that language concern was unneccessary, other than to motivate us to increase our cultural understandings (which, I guess, is a good result in and of itself).

Overall, the weekend was tremendously relaxing and refreshing, and all of the required efforts to make it happen were greatly successful. Everyone had an enjoyable time, hopefully feels even vaguely more comfortable with this country and culture, is a little more confident in the art of travel, and we left with many nice souvenirs and memories of our stay. I, for one, definitely have a new respect and appreciation for monks and monkhood, because lemme tell you friends, they are professional relaxers, but they surely earn it. For an outsider, the act of slowing the mind and taking a breather is rather easy (nay, enjoyable) to do for a short weekend. But the fortitude of the monks that do this for a living, day after day, is amazing. Their daily schedule includes a morning alarm before 4AM; strict, disciplined regiments of hundreds of full-prostration bows; and days on end of meditating, eating, and sleeping in contorted body positions on hard, wooden floors. And then there's the whole Buddhist precept thing: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Five_Precepts). Stronger people than me.

Anyway, Happy Easter!

A Traveler's Lesson: Relational Revolving Doors

I'll preface these next few entries by telling you that I've lately been in particular reflective and introspective moods. I feel to be changing as an explorer of this world so that my thoughts and outlooks sometimes don't even feel like my own, but that of a different person – sometimes even someone unknown and unrecognizable. Perhaps I'm gradually losing my mind by living for an extended time in a place where even going to the local Publix (wait, Lotte Mart) to say 'hello' (wait, '안녕하세요') and to buy a gallon (wait, liter) of milk (wait, 우유) might feel like an insurmountable challenge. Or maybe I'm getting a healthy dose of perspective through this traveling experience. Or maybe it’s just a result of general life experience (which is, in fact, the same thing when I'm concerned). Quite possibly, I'm actually becoming wiser through phase of life. People told me this would happen.

Installment #1 of Matt's Life Lessons ®:

With each Korean sunset, and subsequently as the length of my Matt the Expat status grows, I seem to be more frequently reminded of memorable (yet previously personally insignificant) nuggets of wisdom to which I've been exposed throughout this thing called life. And in turn, the meanings of these quotes, anecdotes, and memories are constantly becoming more pronounced and morphing. One such line and one of the most indelible that I've heard too many times to count over here is a common phrase shared between us Korean expats (and, I imagine, between expats in general) is that 'everyone comes with an expiration date'.

At first glance or turn of ear, this remark essentially, and quite succinctly, states the basic fact that 100% of fellow foreigners will eventually be gone from this place and your period of shared lives will come to an end. Pretty straightforward, right? But over time, the saying takes on a never-ending number of meanings, applications, and usages. And the beauty lies in the saying’s simplicity; it is an easily recallable analogy (e.g., comparing humans to perishable items). It might become a relationship warning (as in, 'you shouldn't get too attached to your newfound acquaintances, because you're bound to one day become unattached'). It can imply that each individual is predetermined with a date of expiry, as in their time stamp 'comes equipped' with the person even before their actual arrival. It could be a euphemism used for the purpose of describing the fleeting nature of expat-hood (watch for the preceding word in Webster's next year, and I want credit). It might become a personal warning (reminding the displaced person that he/she must create an exit strategy and decide on an end date for this dance, for fear that he/she will surely become 'forever lost in this foreign land', lest they forget these words of wisdom). And the list goes on...

Personal intrusion: I’ve arrived at my fifth month anniversary of my second year in Korea, and recently celebrated the end of my first semester teaching adult students. So after almost 17 months over here, I believe now is the appropriate time to start pondering the next chapter of my life (which I feel, in my case, is a natural and beneficial set of actions to take). My new place of employment is undoubtedly enjoyable and fulfilling for the time being, but I can't see myself doing this ESL thing for any longer than two years. I have accepted the fact that I could be a competent teacher/instructor, but I lack the skills (and honestly, the willpower to gain them!) to ever become great, or even fully commit to this line of work. So you have an idea of where I stand on the topic of discussion...

Meanwhile back at the ranch, the everyone to whom the saying evokes has also taken on endlessly more applications. Initially, everyone seemed to refer to a much smaller group of people. Everyone equaled only other fellow expats (and by the way, I wasn't yet included in that group either). Traveling is said to be fatal to small-mindedness (come to think of it, I could probably even write an entry about that saying, too!). Along these lines: now everyone has expanded into: foreigners (which is really all-inclusive); friends; students; staff members; co-workers; nice restaurant owners whom I meet once on a given Tuesday; annoying store clerks who don't provide adequate service but I can't properly disagree with them because we don't share a common language; etc.

Throughout this time abroad, I've made so many great friends and met even more people that I'll never forget (both positively and negatively). It seems to me that forcing yourself to live outside of your comfort zone and sharing this experience with so many other members of humanity hastens the relationship lifecycle. Perhaps through this experience, I am now able to more quickly, accurately, & easily see people’s true qualities, reflect on my past relationships and their results, and consequently become more adept at meaningful human bonding skills. But that's just a guess.

Product life cycle diagram, but you get the picture.

For an example (and likely what got this whole reflection ball rolling), remember my student John (who I introduced back in the February post)? Well, I regret to announce that he is one of these people who are no longer with us. (Hold on, don't jump to any conclusions - he hasn't died or anything extreme like that. He is just no longer my student). He's actually been gone for some time now, so not to worry, I've worked through the whole grieving process. His absence truly saddened me for a variety of reasons. So let me take a moment to describe the kind of person John was to me:

John embodied exactly what I wished and hoped for in a mature, adult student (a group which I have longingly wanted to direct my instruction). He was a perfect model for the kind of person whom I have always wanted as a recipient of my attempts at teaching. He's a dedicated and motivated young man who was astoundingly serious in his studies. He was always attentive, engaged, and participatory in classes. He was constantly challenging me and always made me feel like I was benefiting from our relationship much more than him. I saw several factors that led to his wonderful qualities. Namely, he was older and more mature than most of the other students in class. You see, South Korea maintains compulsory armed service for all its males, and John was the only student in the class who was old enough and had already fulfilled this requirement for his life. (Which served at least two purposes: developing his individual maturity and bringing the two of us together in a unique way that transcended our very different cultures.

I could go on and on with countless cases like this, but further description is unnecessary as they share all similar traits. Our lives are filled with intersecting paths. Some of these exchanges endure for years. Some are simply a brief glance or shared word. Some of them create joy, happiness, and even elation. Some cause strife, pain, and suffering. But all of these experiences are equally significant and capable of creating lasting impacts. And I believe these processes and their results are what make us human.

Beginnings of a Second Year in Korea

Hi. Shalom. Aloha. Hola. Hallo. Bonjour. Hafa Adai. 안녕하세요 ('an yeong ha say yo' - remember that from the first post last year?).

So I've decided that I love being an expat so much that I'm sticking around over here for another year of this ESL teaching deal. Life over here has been exactly what I forsaw and hoped that it would be. I learned so much last year from this experience of living abroad that I can't even fully explain it. So many great experiences had, people met, challenges faced and overcome, etc. I'll try to give you my Cliff Notes version of what is possible to learn while living among a completely different culture.

If you have a chance, read through (or even re-read) some of this blog to get an idea of my past year's experience over here. I've been doing a bit of reflection lately & even I'm amazed at some of the things that I saw, did, and went through during this past year. I met so many great new life-long friends; saw some unforgettable sights; ate both odd and delicious foods (which, I found, are not mutually exclusive things); learned so much about different cultures, languages, and customs; and basically lived a once-in-a-lifetime year. Although, there's definitely been constant hardships, too. When getting directions to a bathroom and ordering food at a restaurant are examples of daily struggles, it really helps put your life in perspective.

Professionally (and I'm taking quite a bit of liberty in using that word), I spent last year teaching children how to communicate in English. And, at times, it was tough (actually, in terms of work, it was always tough!). I had never been (and, frankly, had never even been slightly comfortable) around small humans. And that's precisely how I viewed them - as lesser human beings. Underdeveloped bodies. Underdeveloped motor skills. Underdeveloped brains. I'm sure that I was a horrible teacher for most of the year. Actually, I'm pretty sure that I still am. But now that I'm separated from these annoying sound- and snot-producing machines, I do appreciate all that they taught and did for me.

Needless to say, I had been looking for University teaching jobs for quite some time, but to no avail. So as of a month ago, I was making preparations for a Korean departure - either permanently, or possibly just as a short vacation back down to Southeast Asia, followed by a return to Korea in a continued search for meaningful work. But then during the final weeks, as I was starting to make travel plans, I landed some more interviews & finally had a tough decision to make between several options! I decided on my current job, teaching adults at an ESL pseudo community college. My first few weeks of classes have been amazing & the students are great! I'm living in one of my favorite areas - a place that I spent many weekends last year. It feels like I've moved from Paducah, Kentucky to Las Vegas. My new apartment is amazing. Moving was a chore (as it always is), but I had some great friends to alleviate the suffering with a helping hand.

My new address is:

276-1 Hanrasigma Park #419

Seohyeon-dong, Bundang-gu

Seongnam-si, Gyonggi-do

South Korea 463-824

And, in an effort to showoff my Korean literacy, here is the same address written in Hangul:

경기도 성넘시 분당구 서현동 276-1

한라시그마파크 #419

So, for those visual learners out there, here's a pictorial highlight show.

Here's the outside and lobby areas of my former apartment, and the corresponding pictures of my new place:

(Much improvement, huh?). And here's the change in my students and the actual inside of my apartment.

First, meet Johnny:

Now, here's John:

Here's last year's apartment:

And the new pad:

(Note: notice how last year's 'lobby area' looks oddly similar to the inside of the apartment? That's not an optical illusion.)

And, for my favorite comparison... Check out last year's bathroom:

And the one this year:

So basically, I'm extremely happy. I'm fulfilled with my new job, coworkers & staff, students, neighborhood, and this country! If things continue for me like they did this past year, I may never leave Asia. But all good things must come to an end, right? Or do they? I'm also sure that I'll get to a point where I miss home. But not quite yet!

Until next time, I'll be watching you from my CCTV..

Twas’ the night before Cureesumaseu

Sorry for the hackneyed style. The terrorists made me do it. Here goes:

Twas’ the night before Cureesumaseu, when all throughout the Korean hills,
Not a creature was stirring, not even the Sun of the Communist Future Kim Jong-Il.
The intercontinental ballistic missiles were stored inconspicuously by the DMZ with care,
In hopes that competent UN weapons inspectors soon wouldn’t show up there.

Lee Myung-bak was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of a reunified republic danced in his head.
And ajuma Kim in her hanbok, and I in my hilarious Babo t-shirt,
Had just settled our minds that this season we would not get hurt.

When from across the neighboring norebang there arose such a fuss,
I sprang from my ondol mat to see if it was the regular used electronics’ bus.
Away to the window I ran like a kindergartener with a belly full of candy,
Flew open the glass and thought, ‘well this is just dandy’.

When, what to my unbelieving eyes should come into view,
But a cute little jeep, joined by lilliputan DPRK soldiers. But only a few.
Apparently, this was the mightiest military division they could spare,
And left me with a sense of confusion where all I could do was stare.

With the grotesquely obese senior officer, fat, yet quick like a steed,
I thought, this must be the only countryman they can afford to feed.
Slower than a waygook using chopsticks his entourage came,
And he barked and he hollered target locations by name!

“To Hongdae! And Sinchon! Then Myeongdong and Yongsan!
Onto Insadong! And Gangnam! To Jongno and Bundang!
To the top of Namsan Tower! Jump over the fence!
Now hurry and charge! Race, race away hence!"

His eyes were so dim. His face full of fear!
He was terrified, for just word, the allies would soon be here.
His original intention shrank like samgipsal on a hotplate,
And he realized their invasion attempt would just have to wait.

He sprang into his jeep, to his team gave a command,
And away they all sauntered like a paresthetic right hand.
I heard him announce in broken English they would be leaving,
"Melly Culeesumaseu to arr, and to arr a good evening!"