The Here and Now

You know how I love to talk about puppies.
I bring them up in the most inappropriate of times, insert them into serious conversations, even compare life changing issues to a puppy tumbling down a flight of steps.
Or being attacked by a pack of rabid bunnies.

Off handed remarks about puppy kicking brings tears of joy to my world.*

Imagine my surprise when I was surfing several news sites, checking out the world in a different hemisphere, when I found an entire article about puppies.

Cute little puppies stuck in a drainpipe.
Rescued by police or something. (I wasn’t really focusing on the details.)

Was it a slow news day?
I like puppies as much as the next guy but how could an article about 3 freaking, albeit terribly adorable, puppies in a drainpipe make national news?

I miss the days when news was actually news worthy.
When hard hitting, impact-ful things made the front page.
When the rescue of puppies was a heart-warming story that never made it past the neighborhood gazette.

Unless of course Michael Vick was the one doing the rescue…


*I would never actually kick a puppy. If I puppy was kicked in my presence I would, without a doubt, respond by kicking the kicker in the face. Or somewhere south of the face, depending on the gender of said puppy kicker.

I have been quite remiss as of late in my duties of keeping you informed.
This is an odd world I have gotten myself into.

For the past two years I have lived in a state of virtual isolation. A fact I knew, but hadn’t really sunk in until I moved this small step closer to the real world.

I used to spend a lot of time at home. Sitting, typing, watching movies, etc. Living a life that is strangely suited to regular typing. Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time, and a great many adventures.

But I never thought about how much down time I really had.

Now I know.

But, I now vow to do better. My goal is to actually post at least twice a week, and I give you all permission to yell, scream, and send me nasty notes if I fail in this goal.
I will have deserved the worst you can do.

As a side note, I was attacked by a dozen small children this morning. They came at me, pencils drawn, thrusting notebooks into my face.
“What’s your name?” they screamed.
“What’s your favorite color?” they begged.
“Where are you from?” they stammered.

These small beings come as a school fieldtrip with the assignment of asking westerners a set of English questions and getting them to sign the answer in their notebooks.
It is a cute assignment when I have time to spare, when I am just wandering around campus without a real goal.

It is not, however, cute when I am running late for work.
When I am the only Weagook within eyesight.
When they block my only way out.

That was my situation this morning.

I thought abut dropping my shoulder and just pushing through the mess, but then realized that they all barely come up to my hip and that my shoulder would really not come into the equation.
Plus, I might step on one. And that might get me fired.

So I answered the questions.
I answered and answered and answered.

I escaped at the first sign of weakness, when they were collectively turning to the next page in their little books.

I ran as fast as I could while covering my face and hair with my coat.

I am now a card carrying alien.

Thats right, sitting on my desk is my very own ARC.

That's "Alien Registration Card" to you non-aliens.

It certifies that I am not, infact, Korean. A fact that is hotly debated in some circles.
It also certifies that I am legally allowed in this country to work, travel, and drink soju.

It does not, however, come with a flying saucer or a life raft*.



*I made two different "alien" jokes all squished together there. Only one was the least bit funny. Though I am not entirely sure which.

"Nay" means "yes" in Korean.

Do you have any idea how bloody annoying and confusing that can be?

Here's an odd little thing of note.
My students hate it when I write their name in a red
marker.

Writing a name in red is similar to a death omen.

I live in a strange place.
As I have mentioned before, my school is like a day camp. Each week 400+ 8th grade students wander through our castle gates to learn all they can about conversational English.
And of course, see some crazy weagooks.

This week is different.
This week our students are not pre-teens. They are of an entirely different rank and file.

It is military week.

About 4 times a year the Korean military sends some of their best and brightest to our school.

The soldiers exchange barracks for dorm rooms.
Automatic weaponry for English books.
And push-ups for Dance Party.

They, in all their camo-ed glory, are now walking around campus and taking classes.
Today I teach 40 soldiers how to make pancakes.
Later this afternoon we will sing karaoke,

Last night I taught 25 uniformed men and women, 9 of which were part of the special forces, how to do the Chicken Dance.

Imagine the absurdity.

Luckily, they loved the Chicken Dance.
And the Macarana.
And the Bunny Hop.

400+ soldiers. All here, learning conversational English.
Learning how to ask the time.
Learning how to talk about the weather.
And of course, learning how to ask for another beer.

It is an interesting place.

Don’t tell the North Koreans.

OK, I am back home. Vacation is over.
It’s back to work and grind stone type things.

So, let’s focus inward on the place that I live.

My campus is fairly unusual compared to the typical architecture of South Korea. It was modeled after some tiny village in England.

Due to our nifty nature we have attracted the attention of many people in the media industry. They come to our campus to film commercials, music videos, TV shows, and shoot magazine ads.

Korean pop stars and other assorted famous people are often on the streets, changing costumes in our buildings, filming various things.

This camera is one of many that I have seen in the past few weeks, filming the many this and that’s that occur on the campus of English Village.

They were filming a commercial for Chesuk (Korean thanksgiving).