Indian Eats

After the previous two posts I needed to write about something positive, that being how much I've enjoyed the food here in India. It was after all one of the main reasons why I chose to travel to this country.

Unsurprisingly, most of the vocabulary that I have picked up here is related to food.

Some examples:

Paneer (Indian Cheese)
Aloo (Potato)
Dal (Lentils)
Ghobi (Cauliflower)
Jeera (Cumin)
Mater (Peas)
Palak (Spinach)
Murgh (Chicken)

I love the variety of dishes. I love the aromatic spices. I love ripping off a piece of warm naan, wrapping it around a piece of curry-coated chicken, cheese, or vegetable, and popping that delicious morsel in my mouth.

Vegetables, lentils, rice, and naan.

Tandoori Chicken

Palak Paneer, Aloo Ghobi, Mixed Vegetables

Thali - a variety of dishes served on a round tray.

        

Heaven

When I eventually return home, I will absolutely be cooking the dishes I've tried here. That's something I'm really looking forward to.

Lessons Learned in Delhi ("Poop on the Shoe" Scam)

(The actual scam is described near the end of this entry.)

Before I had even finished the entry about the scam at Lake Pushkar, I found myself involved in another. This time in Delhi.

First, I needed to apply for a Thai visa. You can obtain a 30-day tourist visa upon arrival at a Thai airport, but I plan on staying in Thailand for over two months. I checked the website of the Thai embassy in Delhi and made a phone call to their offices.They advised to come to their application center to apply for a visa. I tried looking for the building on a map.I knew the general area that it was in, but I was unsure of it’s exact location. I went down to the hotel reception and asked if I could book a taxi.

A man (I’m guessing the manager) got up from the couch behind me and walked over. “Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“I need to go to the Thai visa application center in Tolstoy House near Connaught Place,” I said pointing to my map.

He shook his head. “You don’t need a visa before going to Thailand.”

“If you are staying fewer than 30 days,” I said. “But I plan on staying for over two months. I was told that it would be best if I apply beforehand.”

“You don’t need to go. I’ve been to Thailand many times.”

“I would like to go.”

“O.K. You can go, but you shouldn’t go to Connaught Place. You need to go to the Thai Embassy in Chanakyapuri.” He took the map from my hands and pointed. “This is where all the embassies are located.” I saw that they were much further away from the hotel than Connaught Place.

“I checked the website for the visa application center and it said that it was located in Connaught Place.”

“The website is the website. You need to go to Chanakyapuri. But if you want, you can go to Connaught Place.”  

I sensed a feeling of doubt creeping over me. “How much would the taxi ride to Chanakyapuri cost?” I asked.

He thought about it for a moment. “Four hundred rupees.”

“And how much would it cost to go to Connaught Place?”

“Two hundred fifty rupees. Drop-off only.”

“I think that I should make a call. May I use the phone?”

“Go ahead.” He motioned for the man behind the desk to hand me the phone.

 It rang once. “Yes, hello. I would like to apply for a tourist visa today. Is the office I need to go to in Connaught Place?”

“Yes sir,” said the man on the other end.

“I don’t need to go to the Thai Embassy in Chanakyapuri.”

“No. The application center is in Tolstoy House at Connaught Place.”

“O.K. Thank you very much.”

I handed back the phone. “They just told me to go to Connaught Place. Can I have a taxi take me there?”

“Yes, it’s possible," the manager said. "Have a seat on the couch.”

I sat down and took out the documents required for my visa. I gave them one last check as I waited for the taxi.

Not much time had passed before a chubby, unshaven man entered the lobby.

“You. Taxi?” he said gruffly.

I got up quickly and followed him to the car. We had been driving for less than two minutes before I realized that something was missing from my pocket. Wallet!

“Take me back to the hotel, please.” I said trying to remain as calm as possible.

“Connaught Place then hotel?” he asked.

“No. Hotel now. Please!”

He huffed and turned the car around. Every second was mental torment. I had my credit card, debit card, and 10000 rupees in my wallet. Losing that would not be good.

When we got back I ran inside to where I had been sitting. I cannot describe the sense of relief that flooded over me when I saw that it was still there. I picked it up. As I turned around I noticed the man behind the reception desk was looking my way.

“Wallet.” I said with nervous laughter.

I got back inside the taxi and opened my wallet. The credit card was still there and so was the debit card. Four thousand rupees however, was missing.

“Now we go Connaught Place?” the driver asked.

I was really upset with myself. How could I have been so careless? I wanted to go back to the reception desk and ask the man if he had seen anything? He might have taken it.Maybe it was the manager. He didn’t appear very trustworthy. I made a mental list of suspects. Greg, you idiot. Why?!  I tried hard to not beat myself up too badly. I told myself that there were two scenarios. In one, my wallet and all of its contents were stolen. In the other, only 4000 rupees were taken. I am lucky that I only lost 4000 rupees and not everything. I felt a bit better.

“Now we go Connaught Place?” the driver asked again.

I let out a sigh. “Yes, please.”

“Where in Connaught Place? he asked.

“Tolstoy House. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes,” he said confidently. Based on previous experiences, I guessed that there was only a 50% chance that he was telling the truth.

He drove for just a little while. I saw many signs that read, “Connaught Place”, but I couldn’t see “Tolstoy House”. I could tell that the driver couldn’t either.

He stopped the car suddenly. “Wait here,” he instructed. He got out and jogged towards a large man with a mustache standing by the side of the road. The two spoke for a moment before waving me over.

“Now what?” I said to myself quietly.

I crossed the road and walked up to them. The large man took off his sunglasses and looked at me.

“Where would you like to go?” His English was very good.

“Tolstoy House. I would like to apply for a Thai visa. Their application center is located there,” I explained.

“You don’t need to get a visa before visiting Thailand. You can…”

“…get a 30-day visa upon arrival,” I said finishing his sentence. “But I plan on staying longer than two months. I was advised to apply for a tourist visa at Tolstoy House.”

“They don’t do visas there. Their offices have moved.”

“I called their office earlier and they told me that they were located at Tolstoy House in Connaught Place.”

“You can’t get a visa there,” he strongly insisted. “I can help you right now. Do you have your documents with you?”

I felt very uncomfortable. “Thanks, but I think I’ll go there just to check.” The driver looked at the mustached man and shrugged his shoulders.

The driver and I walked back to the car. He drove a little bit further. I noticed either a security guard or police officer standing beside the road.

“Stop over there please,” I requested, pointing in the direction of the uniformed man. I rolled down my window. “Hello. Can you please tell me where Tolstoy House is?”

“Take the next left. The building will be on your right.” I thanked him. He then repeated the directions in Hindi to the driver. I was relieved that we were almost there.

When we arrived at the building I checked with the driver about the cost of the ride. “Two hundred and fifty rupees, right?”

“Two-fifty, no. Five-fifty rupees. Go back to hotel. Wallet. Remember? Three hundred rupee service charge.”

I was stunned by his audacity. The frustration for having lost 4000 rupees was still very fresh. Being told to go to locations other than what the staff at the visa application center said was unsettling. This additional 300 rupee charge was really testing my patience.

“Going back to the hotel took two minutes. An extra three hundred rupees is ridiculous. Here is two hundred and fifty, “ I said handing him the money. I was going to tip him, but expecting me to pay double didn't put me in the giving mood.

He said something in Hindi under his breath. I’m guessing that it wasn’t nice.

I walked up to the building and asked the guard at the entrance if this was where I could apply for a Thai visa. He told me it was. Of course it is, Greg. It’s where the official website and staff member said it would be.

Besides an “equipment upgrade” that delayed the process for over an hour, the visa application was relatively painless compared to the other adventures I had been on that day. I was told that I could pick my passport up the following day.  

I knew that I wasn’t very far from my hotel. I certainly wasn’t 250 rupees away. As I left the building, I asked the same guard at the entrance where the nearest metro station was. It turns out that it was only five minutes away by foot.

As I was walking, a man came up to me and asked where I was going. He closely walked beside me. I immediately felt suspicious and carefully placed my hand over the pocket containing my wallet.

“The metro station,” I told him.  

“It is just over there sir,” he said with a smile. Walking off he told me to have a nice day. 

A few moments later, a man with a concerned face and what looked like a tool box came up to me, pointing at my shoe.

“Sir, your shoe! Your shoe!”

I looked down. On my right foot was a clumpy, runny, brown substance. Then the smell hit me. It wasn’t good. The man gently grabbed my elbow and guided me over to a grassy area.

“Oh no,” he said. I was wearing sport sandals and some of the what I can only assume was actual shit had flowed down through one of the openings and on to my exposed foot. I grit my teeth. This day has been fantastic.

The man took a cloth from out of his pocket and wiped the solids off. He asked me to take off my shoe. Taking out a brush, some water, and liquid soap from the box that he was carrying, he began cleaning my shit-covered sandal. He did the same for my foot.

“Thank you very much.” I said in a state of shock, too surprised to realize what was happening. When he was finished he stood up and said, “That will be one thousand rupees.”

 I shook my head. I could not believe my luck.

“I don’t have one thousand rupees,” I told him. I actually did have the money, but I knew that I was being cheated.

“I cleaned shit from off your shoe,” the man said with a raised voice. He stood up. “One thousand rupees is a good price.”

“Excuse me, sir. Excuse me.” I heard a voice from behind. The same man that had walked suspiciously close to me earlier came running over. “What is the problem?” he asked.

I explained the situation.

“How much is he charging?” he asked.

“One thousand rupees.”

“No, no. One thousand rupees is too high. Indian price is only five hundred. He is a lucky man to get that much.”

I handed the man a five hundred rupee note. In retrospect it is so clear how the two of them had conned me, but at that moment I was unable to think clearly due to the stress from having my money stolen, the shady taxi driver, the hour-plus delay at the visa application center, and now the shit on my shoe. I despondently handed over the money.

After gathering my thoughts I understood exactly what had just happened. By that time I was already on the crowded metro heading back to the hotel. God damn it.

Immediately when I got back to my room I googled, “poop on shoe scam.”  There were about two million results. I clicked on the first link. I read a story that described exactly what had happened to me. One man sneakily squirts feces on your shoe from a tube while you aren’t looking. Then his accomplice runs up to you pointing out the mess. “Coincidentally” he has all the supplies required to clean it up. Once he's finished, you are demanded to pay some ridiculous amount. 

Well, lesson learned. There’s no point in getting angry. It won’t do any good. I’m not going to get my money back. I thought that I was quite cautious and aware, but this experience has taught me that I need to be even more so. The “poop on the shoe” scam won’t work on me again. 

Now it's time to do some research about the common scams in Thailand. Oh, joy.

Prayer Scam at Lake Pushkar

Pushkar is of special importance to Hindus. It is one of the oldest cities in India and contains one of the very few temples devoted to the creator-god, Brahma. According to legend, a powerful demon once terrorized his children. Upon witnessing this, Lord Brahma used a lotus flower to destroy the evil being. While doing so, the petals of the flower fell at three locations, forming three lakes. Pushkar Lake was the first and greatest among the three.  

Brahma - The Hindu God of Creation 

While walking through town one morning, I was approached by several different people on separate occasions; all of them asking if I would like to make a prayer and toss some flowers in the holy lake. During the few weeks that I’ve been in India, I’d guess that I’ve been asked to purchase a cheap service or souvenir several hundred times. It appears that everyone is trying to sell something.  The street vendors are incredibly persistant.  “No” means very little to them.

As I strolled down that dusty, dirt road, I unintentionally made eye contact with a man sitting on a plastic chair scouting for tourists. He jumped up so quickly he nearly knocked over his seat.  He came jogging towards me. Wonderful…

“Take these flowers and put them in the lake,” he said offering some colorful petals. “Very special for you.”

“No thanks.”

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“I’m going to eat breakfast,” I said looking forward, beginning to quicken my pace.

“O.K. You eat breakfast and then we go to the lake.”

“No.”

He followed me until we reached a coffee shop. As I opened the door I heard him say, “Oh, you are really eat breakfast.” When I had finished eating, I discovered that he had left.

At some point in the afternoon a lanky, young man came up to me and asked if I had thrown flowers in the lake yet. I told him that I was busy. He pointed in the direction of the lake. “Look over there. They go too.” I could see other foreigners being led down to the water. “I swear it don’t take much time,” he promised me. “We say nice prayer for God and your family. You throw pretty flowers in the water. After, I tie a string around your wrist. When others see it, they don’t bother you.”

My curiousity and his persistance were becoming more and more convincing. The thought of being left alone after this was over with was quite tempting.

“O.K. quickly,” I said.

The two of us made our way through the crowds of people and honking tuk-tuks. We soon arrived at a stone archway with a golden bell hanging underneath. The young man lept up into the air and struck the clapper as if he was spiking a tiny volleyball. A deafening clang echoed off the walls.

One of the many ghats that lead down to the lake.

He looked at me over his shoulder. “Come this way.” We walked to one of the many ghats. “Take your shoes off here,” he instructed. I hesitated. It’s common to remove your shoes before entering temples or other holy sights, but I had a feeling that if I took them off, there would be the possibility that I would never see them again. I convinced myself that if my sandals were stolen, I could always buy a cheap pair from one of the several shops that sold them nearby. I reluctantly took them off and placed them next to some other pairs.

“Follow me.”

We walked halfway down to the lake. “Please sit,” he said. He took out a small bottle of what I am assuming was paint, dipped his finger inside, and dotted my forehead.  Jeez, I don’t want that crap on me.

“O.K. I say prayer and you say after.”I nodded my head, but I was already ready to go. My gut was telling me that this wasn't a good situation.

Part of the prayer was in English. I’m assuming that the rest was in Hindi. The English portion was about loving God, respecting your parents, and being a good person. It was a positive message, but at that moment I was wondering why I agreed to do this. We were drawing a lot of attention from both Indians and other foreigners.  I was imagining what they were thinking as they stared at us. “Look at that poor sucker. Does he realize he’s being scammed?”

I had trouble repeating the Hindi prayer. I stumbled on every multi-syllable word.

 “Where are you from?” he asked switching back to English.

“Canada.”

“Oh, Canada. I know a man from Canada. His name is a Robert. Tall man. Works on a farm. Do you know Robert?”

“No.”

How many people are in your family?”.

“Five.”

“Very nice. Very nice family. Now, take these flowers and throw into the lake,” he said placing a handful of petals in my palm. “Please, leave your bag here. I watch it.”

“I’m not leaving my bag.” I said firmly. I was beginning to get frustrated.

“O.K. Fine.” He said with a hint of disappointment in his voice. He took back the petals, ran down to the lake to toss them in before darting back up to where I was sitting. He kept an eye on me the entire time to make sure that I didn’t walk away.

“Prayer is finished.” He took out a piece of red and yellow string. “Let me tie this around your wrist.”

I extended my arm in his direction. I badly wanted to get this over with. As he knotted the string he said, “O.K. Five people in your family. You can give one thousand rupees for each person in your family. Five thousand rupees total.” (Around $100 CAN)

I tried my best to keep my cool. “I don’t have five thousand rupees.”

“O.K. It’s no problem, you can give nine hundred rupees per person, eight hundred rupees per person. Whatever is in your heart. ”

Truthfully, there was a part of me that felt obligated to give him what he requested. We had spent a good ten minutes together performing this ceremony. I couldn’t just walk away. Too much time had passed. I “had” to give him five thousand rupees. I suppose that’s how the scam works; pretend like you are doing a service for the victim so that when it’s over they feel the need to hand over their money.  Thankfully I managed to stay strong.   

“I will give one hundred rupees.” (Around $2 CAN)

“One hundred rupees is too small,” he said smiling. “Only a beggar would give this much.”

“I need to get my shoes.”

“O.K. We get your shoes and then you give to charity.” I knew that charity would be the last place my money would go to.

We walked back up the stone steps. I had a sense of relief when I saw that my shoes were still there.

“O.K. You have your shoes. Now you give.”

I tried handing him a one hundred rupee note. “You can’t give this.” He sounded irritated. “Look at all these people and the money they gave to the lake.” He flipped through a booklet of receipts listing names of foreigners and the several thousand rupees they had given him. “You have to give more.”

“No, I don’t,” I said forcefully placing the hundred rupee note on top of his booklet. Later on I was disappointed that I gave him even that much.

He looked at me with contempt and shooed me away. As I walked from the lake I took out a wet tissue and wiped away the dot from my forehead. Then using my hotel room key I cut the string off my wrist and tossed it on the ground.

I was sad to hear that the same guy had conned two of my friends earlier that day for 2000 rupees each.  They both described how they felt compelled to give him money even though they really regretted doing so later on. I believe that regret is an important teacher. It lets me know what to not do in the future. If I feel that I learned something from a mistake I made, then the negative emotions I experienced were most likely worth it. I told them this and I think it made them feel a bit better. 

Deshnoke - The Temple of Rats

While travelling through the Thar Desert in the state of Rajasthan in Northern India, our group spent two days in a city called Bikaner. We were told by our tour leader that just outside the city was a temple called Deshnoke where rats were considered sacred, given food and milk, and protected from predators. I was curious, and so were two other guys out of our group of 13. We hired a driver to take us there.  On the way I dozed off in the warm light of the late afternoon sun.

“Here is temple,” said our driver abruptly waking me 30 minutes later. “You go. I will wait here.”

We made our way towards the temple’s entrance. It’s outer appearance was like many of the ones we had already seen; ornate designs carved from stone, marble tiles and gold decorations.  I noticed that everyone entering the building had removed their shoes. Oh, that’s right…  I remembered. No wearing shoes in temples. We took ours off and handed them to the shoe keeper.  I was a little concerned about a rabid rat biting a toe, but there was no turning back now.

Inside was one of the strangest sights I had ever witnessed.  I was expecting rats, but I suppose not so many. I could see hundreds of furry bodies scurrying across the floor. What’s that I’m stepping on? I wondered. Oh right, rat shit.

  

We slowly and cautiously walked, making sure not to step on one of the inhabitants. Unfortunately, the poop was unavoidalbe. With every step our feet were covered with more and more of it. I watched as an elderly woman filled a bowl with milk for the rats to drink. Several of them quickly darted over and perched their filthy, greasy bodies on the edge and began feeding. As I stared in disgust I felt one run across my feet. I was nearing the boundary of my comfort zone. I could feel my stomach turn when I watched as a man kneel on the ground and press his lips against the feces coated floor.  

                                          

We soon decided that we had seen enough. We tip-toed back to the exit and collected our shoes. I took a look at the bottom of my feet. They were horrific. I wiped as much as I could off on the street and then slipped my sandals back on. When we arrived back at the hotel, I spent a good 20 minutes scouring my feet with hot, soapy water and rubbing anti-bacterial lotion on them.

We asked our tour leader about the history of Deshnoke. He told us that this temple was a tribute to a female Hindu sage named Karni Mata. Karni Mata was an incarnation of the Hindu goddess, Durga. One day, a child from her tribe grew ill and died. When she attempted to bring the deceased child back to life, she was denied by Yama, the god of death.  From that point forward, whenever one of her clanspeople died, Karni Mata reincarnated them as a rat, a creature outside of Yama’s control. The rats at Deshnoke are under Karni Mata’s protection until they can be reborn as human.  

A New Chapter

Well, my time in Korea has come to an end.  As thrilled as I am for this next chapter of my life, knowing that I may never again see many of the people I’ve grown so close to breaks my heart.  “Bittersweet” does not come close to describing how I feel.

Living and working abroad has been something that I’ve wanted to do for such a long time. I am so grateful to have been given the opportunity to do so.  I think it has been very beneficial for me to have witnessed how those from another country live. It has made me question some aspects of my culture and appreciate others.  I value the individualism of the West. I think that we should be able to carve and shape our own identities.  But I also deeply admire the sense of togetherness and brotherhood that I experienced while in Korea.  I know that my time there has changed me, and I feel that it’s for the better.

The day after I finished my teaching contract, I ran my second marathon.  It took me 4 hours 3 minutes to complete; a big improvement over my first marathon time of 4 hours 34 minutes.  It was a fantastic way for me to end my Korean adventure.

My next marathon will be at the Corbett National Park in India on April 7th. I don’t expect my finishing time to be great.  Throughout this month I am touring Northern India and I don’t know how much or where I’ll be able to run. I have been doing burpees in my hotel rooms. I doubt that my legs will “forget” how to run 42 km, but I’d at least like to maintain my fitness.  I expect  to get sick at least once while here, but I’m hoping that I feel alright on race day.

Where to Go?

Deciding where to travel to once my teaching contract was complete was something that I thought about for months.  It was a very tough decision. -I will say now that I’m aware that this isn’t a real problem.-  I was interested in travelling to many different countries, but I knew that my savings wouldn’t allow me to see everything that I wanted to.  To help me decide which countries to visit, I made a list of what I wished to experience and accomplish on this extended holiday.

1. Practice Spanish.

2. Be in nature and see new wildlife.

3. Get in the best physical shape of my life.

4. Visit religious sites and learn more about religions.

5. Witness poverty to have a deeper awareness of how fortunate I am.

6. Eat from world famous cuisines.

7. Become a certified SCUBA diver.

8. Run marathons.

9. Do something “spiritual”.

With this list, selecting which countries to travel to became very simple: India, Thailand, and Peru. Marathons are held all over the world and I was sure that I could find ones to run in these countries. While in India I could learn more about Hinduism, Sikhism, Buddhism, and Jainism and I would certainly witness immense poverty.  All three countries are very biodiverse and India and Thailand are particularly well known for their incredible food. In Thailand I would be able to practice Muay Thai (Thai kickboxing), a very physically and mentally demanding sport; something that I’m sure could push me past my current limits. Thailand has fantastic dive spots and very affordable SCUBA courses.  Lastly, if I travelled to Peru, I could practice Spanish, run up the Inca Trail, and then do something “spiritual”. (I’ll write about this later.)

I feel that listing what I wanted to see and do before choosing what countries to visit was a good decision. It has given this vacation some focus and purpose.  I don’t feel that there’s anything wrong with travelling without plans, relaxing, and playing it by ear. But I really wanted to use this time to develop as a human being and I feel that would be more difficult without some clear objectives.

I’m so excited about the journey that lies ahead of me. 

The Last Week of Kindergarten

The kindergarten“hagwon” (private school) that I work at has a thorough curriculum. We teach language arts, phonics, creative arts, arts and crafts, theme, science, math, gym, cooking, and computer class among others. There are monthly targets for the material that needs to be covered for each class. For many of the subjects, my students (Saturn Class) have workbooks that the principal charged their parents an arm and a leg for.

When I first arrived here with zero teaching experience, having a structured curriculum was invaluable. I had to do little planning of my own.  We had the books and I knew the pages that needed to be covered each class. As beneficial as this was in the beginning, the rigidity became increasingly frustrating as I became more familiar with my students and their skill level.

There have been many concepts in phonics class particularly that my students have had trouble with. For some foolish reason, I believed it was beneficial to spend additional time on these difficult topics so that my students had a chance to grasp them, even if it meant that we didn’t meet the page target for that class

Sometime in December, the (Korean) head teacher at our school approached me and said,

“Can you finish all of the books by the end of February?”

“That’s going to be very difficult,” I replied. “There is a lot of material to cover and some of the concepts are quite challenging.”

“I know, but it looks very bad if the books go home unfinished. The parents will be unsatisfied. Do you think that you could go faster?”

“I… guess so.”

After discovering how many pages still needed to be completed, the principal decided that it would be best if my kindergarten class had no more unnecessary (re: fun) classes. Arts and crafts, and cooking classes were removed from my schedule and the number of music, gym, and computer classes were significantly reduced. Needless to say, my students were not happy when they learned about the changes, especially when they discovered that their favorite classes would be replaced by phonics and language arts.

For the next two months, my students worked hard to complete their workbooks, but in February (the last month of the school year) I could tell that we still wouldn’t be able to finish them at our current pace. As ridiculous as the idea seemed to me, we needed to go faster.

On Monday morning I stood in front of my class and said,

“You guys, we have a lot of work to do in our books. We have to finish mannny pages. If we work verrry hard for the next two weeks, then I promise our last week will be verrry fun! O.K.?”

“O.K. teacher.”

I wasn’t sure if they knew what they had agreed to.

For the next two weeks we proceeded to fly through pages and pages of the workbooks. I was frustrated because I knew that my students were only retaining a tiny fraction of what we covered. They were frustrated because I was making them complete several pages of each book throughout the entire day. It wasn’t fun, but when it looked like they were ready to quit I would remind them of the promise I had made.

“You guys are excellent students. You are working sooo hard. Remember, if we get through these books, then our last week will be full of fun classes.”

During the next two weeks I failed at teaching, but we succeeded in getting through all the workbooks. The answers to each drill, problem, and question were written down with my corrections and signature on every page.

On the weekend I did a lot of brainstorming and research about exciting activities that we could do. Below is footage of the last week with my kindergarten class. They’ve worked so hard and I hope that I could make our last days together fun. I love these kids so much.

Monday

                            

Tuesday

                            

Wednesday

                            

Thursday

                                                             Friday

My Massive Birthday Dinner

I turned 25 on February 17th. For my birthday dinner, some friends and I ate at D'Maris, a high-end buffet restaurant. I have eaten at this place a few times before and it ranks very high on the list of restaurants I've been to. The price for a dinner there is around 35000 Won (~$31), which for me is a bargain.

This is what went through my head as we were being walked to our table during my first trip there:

"Wow! Fancy. Damn there are a lot of tables. I see food. That looks really good. Are we really still walking? More food. Nice aquarium. How far away is our table? This place is really nice. More food. I am so ready for this."

The variety of foods offered at this place astounds me. There's steak, crab legs, roast beef, smoked salmon, tropical fruit, an extensive salad bar, Italian, Chinese, Japanese, and Korean foods, a variety of breads, cakes, pies, cookies, cheeses, and crackers. You can watch all of this being freshly prepared by the chefs behind the food stations. 

In addition to the great food, D'Maris is clean and beautifully decorated. From the food to the chairs, everything looks high-quality. The restaurant is also enormous; able to seat over 500 people.

Normally I am able to eat quite a bit of food, but a couple hours before my birthday dinner I had ran over 30km. When I arrived, my appetite was particularly voracious:

Smoked Salmon, Grilled Vegetables, Grilled Fish, 

Honey-Garlic Sausage and Potato Salad, Sweet Corn, Teriyaki Chicken.

Shrimp, Salmon, Crab, and Eel Nigiri Sushi. Tuna, Cheese, Vegetable, Fruit Rolls.

Sweet and Sour Pork, Fried Rice, Egg Noodles, 

Honey-Garlic Chicken, Caramelized Sweet Potatoes.

Fried Chicken, Fried Fish, Tempura

Shrimp Salad, Tomato-Basil Salad, Grilled Vegetables, Korean Dumpling,

 Korean Pancake, Cheese Pizza, Pepperoni Pizza

Cheese Pizza, Pepperoni Pizza, Grapes, Apple Slices, Fruit Salad, Purple Mangosteens

Waffle, Bread, Coffee Cake, Chocolate Cakes

Cookies, Bread Pudding, Cheese Cake, Chocolate Roll, Ice-Cream

More Chocolate Cake and Ice-Cream

After eating all this food, I wanted nothing more than lie down and take a nap. That's exactly what I did when I got back home. What a great meal.

The Dragon and the Rabbit

I have a friend. Her name is Kasham. In November of 2010 I was invited to her birthday dinner by a mutual friend. From our first interaction I could tell that she was special. She came up and introduced herself and thanked me for joining the celebration. I apologized for not having brought a gift. She laughed. “We only just met.”

Kasham had previously worked in Ulsan, but now she lived in Seoul. She had come down to her Korean “hometown” to celebrate her birthday with friends. She had many and I could tell that they all thought highly of her.

As time passed, we began seeing each other more and more often. I would look forward to our visits with great anticipation. I knew that a weekend spent with her would be filled with laughter and delicious food.

On the surface, Kasham and I are very different people. If we were involved in making a movie, Kasham would be the star of the show and I would be behind the scenes. She is socially fearless and daringly honest about herself. I could choose ten random people and their combined personality wouldn’t be able to match hers. I’ve met very few people that are able to make me laugh the way that she does. I’m happy just being around her. I have always had trouble letting people close to me. I have barriers in place, vestiges from my past that protect my feelings from getting hurt. Kasham was able to break through them quite effortlessly.

Despite any superficial differences, I feel that we are alike in some important ways. Kasham has attitude of gratefulness that I can very much relate to. I love how much she loves life. She is someone that understands how fortunate we are to be alive. One morning while I was staying at her place, she shared a very personal story of how she had overcome some demons in her past. To me, that was when our bond was cemented. She has an appreciation for life that I feel is difficult to achieve without experiencing great pain and darkness.

I painted these pictures and wrote this poem for her. It’s about an encounter between a timid rabbit and a powerful dragon. Although hesitant at first, the rabbit is soon captivated by the dragon’s charm. The two become friends and together head off on a journey. Along the way, something happens to the rabbit. Being in the dragon’s presence has changed him forever. The two part ways at the end, but the dragon will always be in the rabbit’s heart. 

"The Dragon and the Rabbit"

"Down comes Dragon from the trees,

As the rabbit looks quietly.

Face to face, eyes now meet,

Rabbit can feel the dragon's heat.

Timid Rabbit does not hide,

He's not afraid, but mystified.

A change occurs from deep within,

The dragon has a knowing grin.

High above the two do soar,

Rabbit views life in a way not before.

Comes the time for their paths to part,

But Dragon now lives in Rabbit's heart."

Kasham was born in 1976, the year of the dragon. I was born in 1987, the year of the rabbit. I feel that both of our characters match these animals quite well. Kasham’s personality is larger than life. She is courageous and strong. I am quiet and shy, preferring to go unnoticed. 

Soon I will leave Korea, but Kasham will stay. I am going to miss her deeply. I hope that one day our paths will cross again. 

Humility

Is there a more challenging sin to overcome than pride? As much as I've tried to silence and expel the ego, it has managed to announce its presence time and time again. This frustrates me because I believe that practicing humbleness plays a critical role in my personal development. Moreover, I worry that if one day I managed to overcome my pride, I would feel very mighty for having done something that not many others could.

With that said, here are a few of the actions I taken to cultivate humbleness. 

Avoiding Judgment of Others

I make an effort to be as non-judgmental as I can. When I catch my ego criticizing others for frivolous reasons, I try my best to put it in its place.

"How insecure you are to be judging (him, her, them) for that. Why do you care so much about something so unimportant?"

I feel that much judgment is born from fear. People judge others for the way they look, what they do, and how they think probably because they fear looking, doing, and thinking that way themselves. When I notice that I am being judgmental, I try to analyze why. I ask myself what I am afraid of.

For much of my youth I felt very judged by others. I feared even greater, far more vicious judgment if they knew who I actually was. It was a venomous feeling and it would truly upset me if I was responsible for making another feel that way.

Not Needing to be Right

This is particularly challenging for me. There have been too many times in past situations where it wasn't enough for me to know that I was right. I had to make sure that the other person also knew that. It took me a while to realize how counterproductive this was when trying to build relationships. And almost without exception, the topic argued over wouldn't be of any lasting significance.   

If I'm ever asked for advice or my opinion, I usually don't give the "Do (x, y, z)" answer that the person who asked is looking for. I will often add the qualifier "...for me". I try to emphasize that what I'm describing is simply my experience. What works for me may not work for others. I realize that this may come across as indecisiveness, but I really feel that people need to reach their own conclusions independently. 

Thanking Others

When I receive help, I always try to ensure that the person who provided it really feels my appreciation. Drive, resourcefulness, and luck can only take me so far. There is so much that I couldn't have been able to do without the encouragement and support I've been given by the incredible people in my life. 

Contemplating Insignificance 

I am one of seven billion people on a rock hurtling through space around a massive nuclear reaction known as the sun. Without the energy from this giant inferno in space, nothing I love would exist. And although the sun has given me... everything, it is only one of 100 billion stars in "our" galaxy. On top of that, there are over 100 billion galaxies in the observable universe. 

It's difficult for my ego to become inflated when I think of how stupefyingly small I am.

Conversations with Myself and the Amazing Gift

Whenever I dread doing something that I know needs to be done, or when I’m feeling lazy and unmotivated in general, I will often use a particularly effective tactic to get inspired. I’ll imagine a conversation with my future self. This future version of me possesses skill, ability, experience, and knowledge that far surpass my current levels.  He’s what I aspire to be.

 

“Why are you just sitting there?” he’ll ask. “You have work to do.”

“I’m so tired and I’m not feeling…”

“Stop!” he commands. “Your inaction will cause me to be weaker, slower, and duller. How could you possibly allow that to happen? You have a limited amount of time on this planet. The longer you wait, the more distant I become. Soon, I may be out of your reach entirely. I know this frightens you. Now, get off your ass and turn me into a reality.”

His words are very convincing.

During especially challenging runs, I remind myself that the body is not the same as the user of it. They are intimately intertwined, but remain distinct. The body is an incredible tool; a vessel that allows me to navigate and experience the physical world, but it is not me. It is not the “I”. I’ve found minor aches and pains become far less noticeable when I view my body in this way. I’m not in pain. The body is just experiencing an uncomfortable side effect that occurs when it’s pushed to its limits. The more I practice this way of thinking, the more I’m able to tolerate.

My body is a living machine capable of self-repair and improvement. Unlike lifeless, metal and plastic tools, my body strengthens and becomes more efficient with use. It is also the only thing I know that I’ll be able to keep throughout my entire life. Anyone and anything else can be taken from me at anytime. I get to keep this body until my time is up. Some people spend thousands of dollars upgrading and renovating their cars and houses, without investing any resources on their first and far superior home and vehicle.

Time will eventually wear my body down and I know that one day it won’t be able to do the things that it can do now. So today I am going to show my appreciation for this amazing gift and go make use of it.  

My Korean Apartment

I thought I'd make a video tour of my apartment in South Korea. I remember the night that the principal and head teacher of my school brought me here. I stepped inside my room without first taking off my shoes. They looked at me as if I had just strangled a kitten. "I'm sorry!" I said as I rushed back to the entrance to remove them.


I initially thought it was quite small, but the size of this apartment is very typical for a single person here. I've come to realize that there is more than enough room for me. It's fortunate that I am not a hoarder. The space for clutter is not available, and I have no problem with that.

By far the greatest drawback (for me) of a place this small is the lack of counter space. I had to move my computer desk into the kitchen so that I had a surface to prepare food on. I also really miss having an oven, but I've found that a slow-cooker can be used to make a surprising variety of meals.

The Joy of Grocery Shopping

I enjoy looking at, shopping for, and ordering food. I take my time when reading a menu, even if I've been to the same restaurant a dozen times before and  know exactly what I'm going to get. I read and re-read the descriptions of the dishes. I don't toss a flyer away before studying every food item that is advertised. I will saunter through a farmer's market with no intention of actually spending money. But the food/shopping experience that I enjoy most of all is a trip to the grocery store.


I usually begin my adventure in the middle of the store where all the boxes, cans, jars, and other packaged goods are kept. Little of what I purchase comes from this section, but I still enjoy browsing over the various products; looking at their interesting package designs. I'll pick up some tomato sauce, canned corn, green tea, peanut butter, canned mackerel, and any spices that I'm running low on before moving on.


After that I make my way towards my favorite part of the building; the produce section. It's the natural colors that draw me in. Every shade of the rainbow is represented and it's all beautifully arranged. It's as if I'm walking through art. Once I descend from the initial aesthetic wonder, I begin adding items to my cart. As I pick up the different vegetables I think about the nutrients they contain. Red cabbage for the anthocyanin polyphenols, carrots for the beta-carotene, garlic for the allicin. I know and appreciate how these nutrients will nourish my body and mind.


I enjoy thinking about the meals I could create with all of the options that are in front of me. "Maybe I'll make a broccoli salad with slivered almonds and dried cranberries. What about mixing grated carrots with pineapple chunks, raisins, and coconut? I could make a stir-fry with these bell peppers, sugar snap peas, and some ginger. Hmm..."


I'll then walk towards the seafood section. "Wow! Those salmon steaks look incredible. They'd taste amazing with some creamy dill sauce." Next comes the meat and poultry. I look at the package of skinless chicken breast as a blank canvas for me to paint on. Finally I'll go down the frozen food aisle and pick up some anti-oxidant rich blueberries.


I pay for the groceries and leave the building happy. I just bought a bunch of art supplies and now it's time to create. I'll then get the added joy of being able to eat what I made.


After putting away the groceries I feel an ancestral contentment. I have food. For the time being, everything is fine. I do realize just how far removed I am from the true experience. I didn't gather or grow any of the vegetables or slaughter and butcher any of the animal flesh I just purchased conveniently from a store, but the feeling remains.

A typical grocery haul.

Teaching in Korea

I have been teaching English in South Korea since July of 2010. Both of my parents are teachers and I have always had a great respect for this profession. Here I will describe the good, bad, and ugly sides of my experience, placed in reverse order because I like ending on a positive note.


The Ugly


I work in a private school ("hagwon" in Romanized Korean) and I've often been made very aware that I'm working for a business. Education certainly takes a back seat to profit at our academy. The principal has zero teaching experience, but that doesn't prevent her from being hyper-critical of what she views as mistakes made by the teachers. She is a very proud woman that does not want to be questioned. She has fired teachers for frivolous reasons and has burned many bridges. Unsurprisingly, the Korean teacher turnover rate is very high at our school.


The Bad


Korean children are worked incredibly hard. Every second that they aren't taking lessons is viewed as a waste by their demanding and competitive parents. "Teacher Greg, my didn't do homework. Very busy. Me go elementary school. Then piano school. Now Englishee academy. Next science hagwon. My go taekwondo after. So, so, so, sooo tired." I'm thinking, "God damn. How are you still alive?"


This is more of an observation on Korean culture in general than their education system specifically, but there are no sick days here. I'm still looking for them. They've got to be out there. If you miss work, you had better be having surgery performed on you. Then once you're stitched up, it's time to go back. I'm being factitious, but only slightly. Working while ill demonstrates dedication, hard work, and loyalty to your colleagues, boss, and company. The students too will rarely miss school due to sickness. They're sent coughing, sneezing, puking, and wiping snot over everything they touch, spreading their germs to anyone near by. 


The Good


With that bit of negativity out of the way, I'll now share the brighter side of my experience and describe what caused me to renew my contract. 


The bond that I've created with my students is something that I hold very dear. During the week I spend more time with some of them than they do with their parents. I feel that we have grown quite close. I am very aware that I'm in a position where I'm able to have a great influence on their development as human beings. This responsibility is something that I take with extreme seriousness. I try my best to encourage curiosity of the world around them, cooperation with those they interact, and confidence in themselves. I tell them that I love them and I mean it with every bit of my heart. 


Normally, teaching contracts here are for one year. I was asked to renew mine for an additional eight months so that I would stay until the end of their school year. It wasn't long before I had made my decision. I was enjoying my time too much to say "no". 


Even if it's comes gradually, I love to watch their abilities expand and develop. I'm constantly amazed by how much they know. I hope that I've taught them well. I know that I've learned a few lessons from them. They've increased my patience and forced me to become a better listener. They've also really helped me take myself less seriously. I now understand that it's O.K. to (sometimes) act like a goof in front of others. Life can be very fun. After spending so much time with children, the realization that I am most grateful for is of how strongly my desire to be a father is. I cannot envision a future without children of my own.


All of my students are special to me, but admittedly there are a few that I feel particularly close to. One cute, little girl named Amy likes to give me hugs and hold my hand. She's mischievous, but it's so damn adorable that I let it slide. She has yet to develop the confidence to speak out as often as her classmates, but she always writes little notes for me. During one class while printing something on the board, I turned around to find her crying. She looked absolutely devastated. "Amy, what's the matter?" I asked crouching down beside her. She showed me her broken pencil case. It wasn't actually broken at all. The lid had just snapped out of place. I quickly fixed it and gave it back to her. I'll never forget the look on her face. Later on I saw her writing on a small piece of paper. As I was knelt down beside another student, I felt a little hand slip a note into my shirt pocket. I turned around and saw Amy dash back to her seat. I pulled out the note. It read, "Thank you Teacher Greg for fixing my pencil case. I like you Teacher Greg. If you go to Canada I am sad. Love Amy." 

Amy and I.

The student that I feel strongest about is a boy named Alex, the son of the principal at my school. Alex was here when I arrived. I was my school's first foreign teacher and he was my first student. When he graduated from my kindergarten class in February 2011, the principal asked if I would continue teaching him privately during two of the afternoon classes. I happily agreed. 


Alex has a difficult time interacting with other students. He can be very impatient and quick to anger. I feel his great frustration but I'm unsure of the exact reason behind it. He likes to play alone. He tells me that other students are too noisy. In many ways Alex reminds me of myself. 


During our classes together, he really enjoys talking about the newest scientific material he's learned about. He's fascinated by topics such as space, magnets, robots, and time travel. I combined the topics he loved discussing then wrote and illustrated a book for him. It took me several months, but I was happy with the finished product. The story was about a boy that wanted to relive his previous school year (something that Alex wanted), so he built a spaceship to search for a worm hole that would take him back in time. Along the way the hero encounters aliens who just so happen to speak perfect English. I wasn't aiming for scientific accuracy. 

The end result of months of work.

I remember the day that I gave the story book to him. "For me?" he asked. I nodded. He held the book with arms outstretched and then carefully set it down on the table. He sat in his chair. He gently turned the first page and gazed at the illustration. After he had seen each picture he looked up to me and said, "I think this book is the number one book in Korea." Hearing him say that was worth every single hour I spent making it. 


For a seven year old, Alex is remarkably deep. One unfortunate day his rabbit ate grass that had been sprayed with pesticide. It died from the poison. Later on, Alex began asking questions regarding death. I told him how I had felt when my grandfather died. "Teacher Greg, when you a grandfather and you almost die, I want to cut me in half and give you half my energy so that you don't die. O.K.?" 


Jesus.


Alex has known for a little while now that I will be leaving at the end of this month. He has asked me a few times, "Teacher Greg, you can stay in Korea one more time?" I told him that it's been very long since I last saw my family, but that I'll write letters to him and show him around British Columbia if he ever gets the chance to visit. Saying goodbye to Alex is going to be one of the most difficult things I'll ever have to do. 


My teaching experience here has been overwhelmingly positive. There have been bumps along the way, but I'm sure that's true for most jobs. I've learned so much about myself and life during my stay and I've formed memories that I will carry with me for the rest of my days.