Soccer and Seoul: ECUADOR VS. KOREA

This weekend I went to Seoul with some friends. We booked rooms in the Seoul Motel, a classy establishment in the foreign-frequented Itaewon district. In Itaewon you can find a wide selection of international restaurants and stores, clothing in sizes larger than a 2 (advertised as "big size") and you can hear English - a lot.

When I walk around in Korea I can tune out people's conversations. The small amount that I understand is not sufficient to eavesdrop. A foriegner here can breeze down a street while chalking up all Korean speech to white noise. But not in Itaweon. A group of women in front of us were dicussing why their group of friends did the right thing by not rushing into marriage like Sue. A couple behind us was talking about a restuarant. A Nigerian woman was asking Delaine who braids her hair, and offering a card for her salon. This actually felt a little overwhelming after being so used to simply ignoring the conversations happening around me.

We went to eat some Greek food, then headed to a bar on the aptly named "Hooker Hill". As we walked up the hill, we saw scantily clad women sitting on stools, the doors of various venues left open just enough to give people a peek of what they could pay for. At the top of the hill, we arrived at our destination, a country western bar that was full of real American cowboys. After a couple vodka-cranberries, I decided to ask one of the cowboys to two-step. He had a good sense of rythym, and soon enough I was two-stepping around the center of the room as my friend filmed my first western dance experience. Surprisingly, the same cowboy had followed my guy friend into the bathoom and asked him, "What's the deal with your lady friends?" and commented that I was a "mighty fine lady."

The next stop was Caliente, a Latino-frequented latin club (as opposed to a Korean salsero venue). We danced until they kicked us out and the lights went on. Then we went to Hongdae and hit up a place called Gorilla before crashing into bed in Itaewon.

On Sunday we went to Myungdong for some shopping. A youth-culture haven, this shopping district has a ton of international stores ilke Zara and Forever 21, Korean beauty product stores with hawkers out front who drag you in by the arm and give you a basket with free samples in exchange for browsing, as well as the typical Korean street vendors selling everything from belts to shoes to faux acid washed denim leggings to couple cell phone charms and earrings.

But the real reason for going up to Seoul this weekend was to see the World Cup warm up friendly between Ecuador and Korea. I was horrified to discover that I had forgotten to pack my Ecuadorian flag, but luckily I remembered my 2006 jersey and collection of red blue and yellow accessories. As huge crowds of people spilled out of the subway at the Seoul World Cup Stadium, I saw a Korean guy wearing the same jersey as me. Ecuador! I yelled to him... and then he bowed at me. We were wondering if he just randomly likes Ecuador. There are lots of Ecuadorian Koreans, but I still wouldn't have expected someone from Ecuador to bow so automatically - however I bow all the time in Korean contexts so I shouldn't judge! But everyone else we saw was wearing red and white, the Korean colours.

Korean fans are crazy! Their energy was infectuous. The crowd had a band with drums that led cheers. They shot flares in the air, they raised a flag up AND down over themselves. And their cries of "dae han min guk" (Korea's official name) almost never let up for the entire game. When we arrived at our awesome front and center seats, there were large pieces of red or white cardstock, and a Park Ji Sung mask to wear on the back of your head.

But for the size of our small group, we did a pretty good job of cheering. We attracted the attention of a small group that started yelling Ecuador back at us. And that was how I met two Ecuadorian guys from Toronto who are teaching English in Seoul. There were also a few pockets of Ecuadorian fans on the other side of the stadium, visible with their yellow jerseys and balloons, and one lone flag.

The Mind

I was having dinner with my friend Sunny on Monday when she brought up the concept of the mind. "Ask any Korean person where the mind is, and they will point here," she said, placing her hand on her heart. "If you ask any western person, they always point to their head." I decided to test this theory last night over dinner at an Italian place with Alexander (Chan Hui). When I asked him where the mind is, he gestured to his chest.

Sunny is a cultural interpreter. She is Korean, but also lived in California, and has many friends in the international community here in Daegu. She knows Korean and North American culture intimately and is fully bilingual. These cultural interpreters can provide incredible insights into a culture. Sometimes you need to ask someone to explain something to you. Why does my friend think I want to meet up with him when I say, "I am bored"? How much money should I bring as a wedding gift? Why are some people so shy and embarassed to talk to foreigners? Is it just me, or are Korean gender roles strikingly similar to Latin American ones? Through friends like her, I have learned a lot about Korea, and become much more in tune with and sensitive to cultural differences. Having friends like Sunny has allowed me to function more smoothly in Korean society.

the onset of summer

HOT.

The steamy Daegu weather has arrived. Unlike in Canada, where weather changes slowly creep up on you, Korea basically has summer and winter, where spring and fall are like a joke. At best, a few days of glorious weather around 20 degrees. This is also the time when middle aged folk bust out the best of their hiking gear: black polyester pants, and bright coloured sweat-wicking long-sleeved shirts, and .... hiking polls.... to hike up pathed pathways that are more like sidewalks than challenging mountainous terrain.

For me, this means bursting open my wardrobe to expose brightly coloured skirts and dresses, lightweight fabrics, and my impressive shoe collection... and extra walking and biking. Asha has a habit of setting up her throne in one of two places to catch some vitamin D during our rigidly enforced "Fresh Air Time" aka break, which lasts from 11:31-11:44 and 4:31-4:44 daily. We see a lot of interesting things from a perch in the sun. One side is the sidewalk, and the other is a shoddy little parking area. Shoddy, because the "chain" that closes off the four-car parking area is neon green, and plastic. Yesterday, a driver pulled up to the chain, got out of the car, and de-linked two segments of the chain. He drove into the lot, parked his car, then re-linked the chain back up.

We have also seen:
-Crazy old men on bikes with cool straw hats, who yell at us and want to practice their English
-Children who run by brushing their hands along a ledge, and then freeze when they see us
-Old women who stare intensely until you look them in the eye and say "annyong haseyo"

And today I bought a strange ice cream called an "ice pine", which sounds more like "AH-ee-su PA-eye-nuh" - but before you gag and think about pine-sol flavour and Christmas trees, rest assured that this baby was shaped like a little pineapple the size of a pine cone.

Last Friday we had a salsa show at Urban club. The owners are a great bunch of people, and they took care of us as we rehearsed all week, providing orange juice, water, and snacks. We did a rueda with five couples, and our "salsa showcase" with two couples. It was a lot of fun and went really well. Our girls were decked out with dramatic smokey makeup, and the dances went well - the only scary moment being when both Christine and I were being flipped in the air upside down and our feet hit each other mid-air.... there is a troupe of Brazilian professional dancers who work at a local amusement park, and bringing them to a party is like opening a can of worms of fun. We had a conga line going, and danced up a storm until close to 4am, where we ended up at Burger King where I had a shrimp burger. Sorry ... See-oo bah-guh.

I don't do this often. My days of partying till 6am are pretty much over. If a crazy friday happens, I am pretty much out of commission on Saturday. So Sharifa and I lounged about in the sunshine on my rooftop, lying on bright fuschia fabric and wearing skimpy clothes. My Korean neighbours consider the roof a place for drying clothing, and storing garbage. Most Korean people do not suntan, as the many whitening products and SPF 100 creams prove. But in a country where summer and beach season are defined by dates, and have nothing to do with the actual weather, a pair of sunbathing foreigners just look plain crazy. My neighbour and her two kids were peering at us from behind a wall. I am talking about obvious spying - their heads would pop out against the wall edge, the rest of their bodies hidden. The positive side side of the rigid ideas of when it is appropriate to go to the beach, is that when beach season is considered over, the normally crowded beaches become a pleasant place to hang out. The weather is exactly the same. No more world records for the most people on beach (Haeundae in Busan a couple of years ago). Just me, smiling up at the sun, as Korean girls teeter through the sand in their stilettos.

Me? I religiously wear my heels in appropriate places like a salsa club. Not while hiking. And salsa is a big part of my life these days. I am taking my on-2 Ladies Styling class and loving it so much. Que viva la salsa. My teacher whose English name is Kitten, and the Caribe owner, whose English (Spanish) name is Gitano also showed up at the fiesta last weekend. Good times in Daegu.

And last but not least, I really appreciate some of the people in my neighbourhood. Like the middle-aged man I bought my bike from last year at his used bike shop. On Sunday I was biking downtown, and as I passed his shop I decided it would be a good time to put in air. I also have been having a loud squealing noise coming from my brakes every time I slow down. This startles many pedestrians (people here bike on the sidewalk and largely without helmets). So I said this to him in Korean: "If stop, "_____" sound loud hear!" He laughed at my ghetto Korean, and proceeded to... fix it. And refused to take any money. He's a hilarious character who usually has a cigarette sticking out of his mouth, but also a jolly smile. These people around the neighbourhood that I see on a frequent basis create a sense of community for me here.

salsa etc.

Le midnight croissant! (purchased at "Paris Baguette)

Tonight I had so much fun I was debating on leaving Korea! I LOVE LOVE LOVE my new salsa class. I am studying with "Kitten" who is a fabulous dancer best known for her highly sexy styling and curvaceous physique (by Korean standards) at a salsa club called Caribe. I was in heaven! I learned some body isolation and body rolls, salsa style booty pops, some new steps and turns, and some pretty shines with delicate ladies styling. LOVE LOVE LOVE.

And the Caribe owner is interested in enlisting my PR skills to help him promote a weekly latin night targeting the foreign community. But unfortunately I could not stay while the rest of the ladies were filming kitten doing the moves. The salsa shoes were slipped into their bag and I zipped up my ridiculously high peep toe booties, and went to the second club of the night. And did I mention that I'm talking about a Monday? Welcome to Melinda's life pre-salsa show.

I headed to Urban next where a couple of our salseros were waiting. We have a great mix of foreigners (I'm gonna have to stop using this word back home) and Korean students who are doing a rueda. There was a bit of a mixup as I tried to decide whether to dance as a man or woman - I am a proud androgynous salsa dancer - but I went with woman. It was a pretty chill Monday night crowd at the club, but we had a bit of an audience.

There were a few Koreans who were enjoying some drinks at the bar who got excited about salsa and got up to learn. One of the guys I met was a modern dance teacher and he invited me to one of his shows. He asked me if I wanted his foreign or Korean name. I said the Korean one, which was Dong-wook. why? because I have grown tired of Koreans using crappy English names. Why should you have an English name? You already have a Korean one. Dong-wook will always be a better name than Jacob Tutu, Converse, or Microwave.

I actually met a guy yesterday who said he used to go by Peter, but now uses his Korean name. That was sweet sweet music to my ears and I celebrated by piercing a slab of kimchi with my metal chopsticks and exclaiming MASHITDA.

But back to Dong-wook. He told me that he knows Mexican-style salsa. I made a weird face as images of norteno dancing popped into my head. Then he said, "Mexico.. Colombia salsa." Salsa snob that I am, I let him know that Mexican style doesn't exist... "to my knowledge," I threw in as an afterthought (Confucious gets to you once you're here long enough, trust me. All that bowing and two-handed serving and indirect making of requests.... I can't control it anymore). And allow me to interject right here, that Ecuador doesn't have a salsa style either. Sure,

Ecuadorians dance salsa. Not strikingly well compared to say, Colombians, but other types of music like cumbia, merengue and *gasp* techno, are popular. But the people who dance it really well (i.e. lots of turns which always impress people) the way lots of North Americans like to imagine are really a small minority.

Anyways once we agreed that Colombian style is awesome, me and Dong-wook high fived each other and I was on my way to catch a cab home.

A smaller group of us will also be doing the pretty complicated dance with some flips and stunts - this time we'll film it and you'll see us doing the no-hand cartwheel and jumping onto the guys with one leg in the air. Stuntage: 100% courtesy of Ms. Sanchez. (I'm glad she made us do it) Looks like Daegu is going to have a serious month of latin parties this month.... nice-suh.

Now to see a huge shift in tone, this is what I wrote earlier at my desk during the dreary dreary gray day that was today:

Writer's block.

Suddenly I become fascinated in reading news articles. A quick search on Al Jazeera turns into career stalking of Imran Garda and Teresa Bo. How did they get where they are? What can I do to get there, too?

It is absolute torture to be sitting down. TORTURE. I listen to salsa. I mentally walk through the choreography we will practice tonight. My mind can leave, my mind can go.. .anywhere but here.

My concentration definitely sucks today. But my posture is fantastic, as Asha points out. Probably because of the vast amounts of dance in my life these days. But let's backtrack a bit, and talk about the weekend - significantly more interesting than my weekdays. So there were two birthday parties. Asha's, which started with a lovely dinner and transitioned into dancing, and another party that required all attendees to wear togas. A large number of my friends were involved, including some salsa gente. I don't really do togas, so I went with a festive neon-blue cheetah print dress, which I claim helps me sell the salsa class. I always wear dresses to salsa, and I like to add a barrio fab edge, however, I was put in my place by Nakia: "Looks like you're selling a lot more than the class."

But regardless of toga and dinner parties, salsa must happen, so I went to Babalu to assist our LA style guest instructors to do their thing. But upon arrival at the club I was in for a surprise. Alexander, my beloved Babalu employee and friend, quit his job at the salsa club to take an acting job in Seoul.

He has provided hours of entertainment and witty commentary, and taught me a few secrets, like the fact that some Korean guys call ugly girls "ogres" and pretend that they will kill them, as if life were a video game. He also explained the nightclub system in detail, taught me what actually goes down on some hiking retreats for middle-aged singles, helped us out with salsa practices and parties including filming us as we prepared performances, taught me a lot about Korean culture and food (cheese kimbab!) and helped me practice a whole lot of Korean - with the "coveted" Seoul accent. He was extremely patient as I struggled to pronounce the evil evil double consonants that I fail to hear.

I also had the joy of teaching him phrases like "batti ridah" and "batti bwoy" and watching the reaction on a Guyanese man's face when he said it to him.

But wait.....look at this pic! those are batti ridahs if I've ever seen 'em. And thus me and the batti ridified man agreed that I was allowed to use the phrase batti ridah just that one time. And look at how the birthday girl's a champ!

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!
I'm doing a countdown to the Ecuador vs. South Korea game on May 16. I have a flag, a 2006 jersey, a faux Adidas jacket, an assortment of patriotic azul amarillo y rojo jewelery, and even face paint. Sorry Korea, but this time I want you to lose.

I am also taking a break from my weekly private language classes to focus on salsa - a woman only has so many hours in a day- but I did attend a language exchange event yesterday which was a great opportunity to meet some new people and practice my Korean. neeeEEEE.

부비부비 I've had enough! ㅠㅠ

Layers of pink chiffon, cute tiny little shuffling steps, delicate feminine giggling, large bows and ruffles, patent leather shoes and the general look I wore to church when I was four years old but on a grown woman... these are all things that rub me the wrong way, which already set me up to be pissed off by this commercial.

Call me a proper young lady, but there are certain things that make me cringe like nails on a blackboard because they seem so goshdarn inappropriate. One of those is the word "pee". I absolutely hate hearing people talk about how they are about to go pee. I strongly believe that everyone should just excuse themselves and be on with their business before returning to said social situation without any mention of the last five minutes of their life.

But what takes gross to a whole new level is the phrase 부비부비...which means grinding, whining, apegado, or dancing close. But it's worse. Korean has many onomatopoeic sounds such as chika chika for tooth-brushing, but bubi bubi is supposed to be the sound of two bodies rubbing together. One time in club, before approaching from behind, a Korean guy asked me, "Do you know Korean-dance 부비부비?" And Sunday nights at club Monkey in Daegu are designated 부비 nights.

Part of the reason this offends me so much is that 부비부비 is a term that uses cutesiness to refer to something sexual. This is just as repulsive as a man busting out some baby talk in the bedroom.

So imagine my utter horror and disbelief when I saw this cell phone commercial. My Korean co-worker says that it's okay that the phrase bubi-bubi is being used because of Ji-yeon's cute outfit and girlish look, complete with the decidedly juvenile floppy bow. "It's innocent because she looks cute." And if this cellphone has the "bump" bluetooth file transfer function, I suppose it is 1% more acceptable to say the b-word. But I am still grossed-out by the existence of the term 부비부비, and hope that it goes out of style real soon - a common trait of all fashion trends in Korea, so fingers crossed.

La Bendita's Easter Weekend

EASTER

When I woke up today, I found myself missing the excellent musical quality of the Mennonite church, and this familiar hymn was playing in my head. Here in Korea you wouldn't know it's Easter Monday, because it's the Cold Food Festival. I got a similar comfort from listening to the hymn as I get from hanging a rosary above my bed - I'm not a religious person, but these markers of culture and tradition help to create a sense of home. I also greatly miss my mother's Easter baskets that I have still been receiving in my 20s. Who doesn't love a chocolate bunny!

And speaking of things i miss, last Friday I really missed eating Fanesca, the Ecuadorian delicious thick soup eaten on Good Friday. My dad said, "cuando me sirva el segundo plato, vamos a pensar en ti." El segundo! Pero que amable! Since childhood, we have almost always gone to eat my Aunt Gladys' version, something that no amount of the best kimchi can ever replace.

(*.^)

The ginormous latin party Charanga for Chile is over. Hours of practice, promotion, and preparation went into this event that drew over 200 people and raised a few thousand dollars for the Chilean Earthquake Relief Fund. English teachers and university professors, Latino military, the Peruvian worker community, Brasilian dancers, Korean Spanish students, and others came out to dance and watch the show. You can see me in the black matte-yet-shiny capri leggings:

At the end of the night, we went for galbi (Korean BBQ) at 4am. A group of Korean university students got into a fight, where food was thrown and tables were pushed. My favourite moment was when a skinny guy menacingly grabbed a soju bottle and threatened to hit his friend in the head with it. Dinner and a free show! Don't mind if I do. The drama at the restaurant is probably why the Korean staff was so attentive when an unknown and extremely drunk foreign guy stumbled to the floor. He somehow managed to wear his converse into the restaurant - a major no-no when you sit on cushions on the floor. So the staff helped him take off his shoes and did him the favour of carrying them to the shoe lockers at the entrance. He eventually lay down and fell into a deep sleep. So people decided to have some fun. The staff assisted by bringing out empty cases of soju bottles.

(*.^)

Break time at work: Asha and I often walk over to a local coffee shop. We used to be able to walk across the street, but a few months ago a thigh-high barrier was erected as well as a light - that takes a good five minutes to change. I'm not the only one guilty of jay-walking: I saw our CEO do a running leap over the barrier once. Mysteriously, often traffic lights are green when pedestrians are not given the walk signal in the same direction. No turning signals - so I've always considered this a safe time to walk. I mean, I can dodge cars speeding down winding roads on Andean mountains, so I know I'm good. But today, a cop drove by on a motorcycle. He yelled at us through his paisley bandanna, to which I replied "외국인" (foreigner) while meekly shrugging my shoulders. That, my friends, is the "foreigner card".

And at the coffee shop, I ran into a Korean woman in her late 30s I always see at the gym. She complimented me on my S-line, and also pulled her jacket to the side to show off her own side-profile, to which I exclaimed, "와! 맞아요. 에쓰 라이느 있어요." (woah! That's right! What an S-line!"

(*.^)

Next up: Many weeks of late practices that cut into sleep were worth it but all of us dancers are tired - and we'll be taking a week off from salsa class to give people time to do their thing - my thing being a weekend in Seoul where I am excited to be meeting up with one of my mom's former high school ESL students, who is Korean and doing his co-op work term here, some CIDA intern friends, and distributing copies of Daegu Pockets to businesses featured in my past article on Seoul's latin scene.

LUNCH, ABORTION, PEDESTRIANS

I was out for lunch with some of my Korean co-workers when the Korea's ban on abortion came up. Although not encouraged, abortion has been an option up until recently. But now, doctors and women are faced with a $2000 fine and jail time for the doctor and potentially the woman as well. Does it have to do with Lee Myung-bak administration's attempt to increase South Korea's birthrate (which has been denied)? We discussed this as well as why Korean and English are so hard to learn respectively, as we ate pasta and salad. Note that these western foods were Koreanized by serving everything on one communal plate, where each person takes a little, bit by bit, onto a small side plate. Our pineapple and grape Fanta (you know you're not in north america when...) was also served in huge glasses with multiple pastel-coloured straws.

When it came time to pay up, one of the men went to pay. He is the manager of the audio section of the Editing department, which may or may not be significant. I tried to offer some money, but he said, "Just get me a coffee," adding that it should be sweet as in caramel latte, and not a "nasty" Americano (맛없다).

Our group of three women and two men then went to a coffee shop. Here the other guy paid for everyone's coffees, significant in a country where coffee can cost as much as a decent meal. I guess next time will be my turn.

~~~

Susy and I are finishing up choreography for the dance show we have coming up in April. Since I've started teaching salsa in Korea, one of the biggest challenges I face is explaining a lot of what I do naturally. I know how to do something right, but I don't know how to break down what is a natural instinct for me. Susy has been really helpful with pointing this out and helping me to break down and teach what is either attributed to my "natural ability" or years of practice (probably both). We are doing some stunts where girls are thrown into the air- so watch for those videos if you can't make it to the show on April 3rd.

~~~

PEDESTRIAN CULTURE

When you walk by someone in public, people in Korea pass to the left. They drive on the right... and scooters or motorcycles weave in and out of wherever they walk on sidewalks, but as a pedestrian it is clear that you must pass on the left. What strikes me though, is that a lot of people who I asked say they don't notice this, unlike in Japan, where people consciously told me they pass on the left (ie Kaz). So I tried passing to the right. This always results in a fumble where you dodge to both directions before someone finally insists on talking one path.

And since we're talking about pedestrians, anyone who comes here will immediately notice people's lack of awareness as they walk. Countless times, I have almost crashed into people who are busy texting, or just randomly staring at the ground as they walk. I suppose I can allow this behaviour, as long as their using the new Big Bang-endorsed Lollipop cell phone.

When I'm on my bike, I have to ding the bell to alert people to my approach. This never felt as necessary in Canada, where dinging the bell feels almost rude. (Excessive apologizing, anyone?) I pull it out as my last possible resource in Canada. But here, perhaps due to the high population density, no one will move UNLESS you ring that bell. People also love honking their car horns way more. I suppose noise is okay when cell phone ring tones can be heard over kpop music that plays at transfer points on the subway line.

And as a last, immature note, every lesson plan I have created this week has taught adjectives, and I have used the words "big old" to precede various nouns. I can't deny that every time I hear "big ol'..." I think of pitbull, and want to finish the sentence with "booty".

I DARE YOU (^_^)

Last night I was in a convenience store with my friend when a Korean couple walked by. The guy turned to me, and took in a deep breath of air before uttering one syllable: "Hi."

He immediately hunched over into an embarassed giggle, as did his girlfriend, and they scampered out of the store, clearly experiencing an adrenaline rush over the audacity of his actions. When this happens, I always say hi back, in the event that it's someone I actually have been introduced to and might have forgotten - to save face, mi gente! But this was a clear case of them having planned to say hi. The conversation might have gone something like this:

-I dare you to say hi to those foreigners!

-No - you do it!

-Ok! What should I say?

-Just say hi! ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ (korean laughing that sounds like static)

Having people randomly come up to you and say "hi" in English is quite common. And I get that someone wants to say hi to you, start a conversation, be friendly, practice their English. But why have an obnoxiously loud conversation as you walk by? Yeah. I have been walking downtown when a group of Koreans might be walking towards me from the other direction. One time, I heard a guy say to his friend, "Hi, how are you?"

His friend replied, "I'm FINE thank you.... how are you?" all at a volume that was clearly intended for listeners outside the group, and an exchange that only started right before they passed us.

Then they took off, ㅋ!ㅋ!ㅋ! - all the way home.

If you aren't in Korea, it might be hard for you to imagine why speaking to a foreigner is such a big deal, especially when so many young Koreans have an excellent command of English. But look at the category: foreigner. Do we even use vocabulary like that to refer to immigrants in Canada? I've met people that freak out when I ask a question in English. If they don't understand, they often don't give me a second chance to re-phrase or repeat. They are too embarassed and often exit the conversation. Busting out one's heavily-accented Korean usually helps.

And of course this whole "omg it's a foreigner!" attitude also affects dating. Currently, an American friend of mine and her Korean boyfriend want to set me up with one of his friends for a double-date. He has a nice guy in mind, who speaks English. But, this nice guy wasn't sure he wanted to meet a foreigner. Why? He claims he is scared. I'll keep you posted. All I ask of the world is that the next time someone sets me up on a Korean-style blind date, that they inform/ask me first.... ㅋㅋㅋ!

CSI

Debido a mi horario, usualmente estoy en la casa a las 10 de la noche. Pero hoy hice una entrevista para Daegu Pockets con mi amiga Sunny con la seccion de CSI de la policía de Daegu. Como buenos coreanos, cuando nos preguntaron, 밥먹었어요? (Ya comiste?) contestamos que sí, porque la verdad a nadie le vale si hayas comido o no. Es como decir, "como stas" nomás.

Bueno por eso estábamos muertos de hambre después de la entrevista así que fuimos a comer en Kim Pasa, una cadena que mis amigos maestros de inglés llaman "the orange restaurant" por el color del letrero. Había unos estudiantes de escuela secundaria comiendo a esa hora. Aunque trabajo en la industria de las academias, necesitaba recordarme de los horarios locos que llevan la mayoría de los estudiantes coreanos, quienes recientemente empezaron el nuevo año de clases para el nuevo año lunar. Como dijo un amigo estudiante universitario, "I'm worried!" y le entiendo. Trabajan mucho. Pero volvemos a lo de antes.

Hoy llegamos a la sede principal de la Policía de Daegu. Afuera había un guardía con chaqueta color amarillo y nos dirigió hacia adentro. Fuimos a la oficina de CSI, Crime Scene Investigation, donde teníamos cita con el director del departamento, el señor 최용석, Choi Yong-Seok. Con un aguita de té verde, nos empezó a contar de su trabajo. Especialista en Bloodstain Pattern Analysis, lleva 8 años en este departamento. Después de estudiar en Ottawa, Canada con el OPC, fundó la primera asociación coreana de BPA. Muy amable, se le notaba que le apasiona su trabajo. Hasta se reía al decir que sí le gusta mucho ver la serie de tele Dexter, que se trata de un asesino en serie que también trabaja en BPA.

Nos contó unas cifras impresionantes. En esta ciudad, el índice de asesinatos es usualmente 50 anualmente. Dijo que el año 2008 fue raro porque solamente había 33, la mayoría siempre cometidos a puñaladas. Pero lo más asombroso es que son 5 o 6 suicidios D-I-A-R-I-A-M-E-N-T-E en esta ciudad de 2.6 millón de personsa, y que son gente mayor. "Ser viejo es difícil,", dijo. La cara de él cambió cuando nos contó algo que había pasado hoy. Una madre y sus dos hijos adolescentes se habían suicidado con monóxodo de carbono. Nos dijo que le afectó tanto que mandó unos mensajitos de texto a sus hijos en ese momento desde el lugar del crimen para decirles que los quiere mucho.

Aún un hombre que ve cadáveres la mayoría de los días es afectado por un caso así.

La verdad no podría yo hacer un trabajo así. Ver tantos cadáveres y estar rodeada de los efectos de la violencia. Pero sin querer, cuando nos contaba los detalles de otro suicidio, casi me río por lo ridículo que suena tanto sufrimiento inecesario. Otro hombre se cortó el pene y se apuñaló en la cabeza varias veces para después ponerse una gorra justo antes de ahorcarse.

Bueno todo eso muy feo. Pero la razón por empezar esta investigación es que había unos policías canadiense que vinieron a capacitar a algunos policías coreanos para el curso avanzado de BPA. Desarrollaron una relación muy bonita. Primero hablé con el canadiense, y tenía bonitos recuerdos de corea, la comida y la buena hospitalidad que provieron los colegas coreanos.

Eso se veía. El lado humano. Y el trabajo meticuloso de un hombre que le valora la vida.

Otra cosita que solamente se ve en corea es un compacto de polvo para sacar las huellas digitales. Inspirado por el maquillaje, este polvo de gris, negro, o blanco, parece un verdadero make up compact y hasta tiene espejo! Eso es para ver debajo de la mesa, escritorio etc... no para ver a los criminales que te acercan de atrás como sugerí.

Un día interesante que me hizo pensar en el valor de la vida, pero que al final me quitó el apetito.

TV, Korean lessons, and a Monday night

FOREIGNER!

Arirang is Korea's "Number 1 English network"

To make a long story short, I applied for a spot on an Arirang TV travel show and I got it. So I'm going on a four-day trip with another foreign young woman I haven't met yet, and an Arirang TV crew. We're going to the south of South Korea to Yeosu Sado, Geoje Haekumgang, Hakdongmongdol beach (islands etc. but not as far as Jeju) and will be on TV. We're filming starting this Saturday, and I'm really excited. I'll let you guys know where and when you can watch it - but it will definitely be available on the website after it airs.
~~~~~~^^ ~~~~~~
I have a new Korean teacher and I like her. Just like my last teacher at the Daegu YMCA, she was trained to teach Korean as a foreign language at Keimyung Univeristy, and is helping me out with my brand new text book. That's right - I graduated into my second book of Korean, 서강 한국어 1B. Asa!
~~~~~~^^ ~~~~~~

Yesterday I left work on time, for a change. Asha and I went downtown on the subway. It's always a dilemma of subway versus cab. But during rush hour, the subway is faster. It's also cheap - when you buy a reload-able card its less than 90 cents a ride.The trains stop exactly where they are supposed to. And you know when the next train is coming to the minute. There are signs and audio announcements in English, but the real reason to take the subway, is the PEOPLE WATCHING.

Downtown Daegu is a youth culture mecca. Clothing, shoes, and accessories are sold in tiny boutiques that line the streets. Bright flashing lights, couples walking in a huddle linked at the arm, street food stands covered with clear plastic sheets for a makeshift shelter, and coffee shops galore.

We went to the theatre and read the English movie options. There are always a few English movies, and Korean is available in subtitles. But the movie titles themselves are English words spelled out in Korean. I told the lady at the counter what we wanted, then she switched to English and said "middle or front". I pulled out my money, but Asha was baffled - she hadn't been to the movies here yet and didn't know there was assigned seating. It's one of those things I forget about as being different. We saw Atom Egoyan's Chloe and I was ecstatic to see Toronto.

Home sweet home, yes. I'll be there in a while.

The weekend

Today was a beautiful spring-like day in Korea. The sun was shining, and the weather was so warm, that after lying on the floor watching a couple of episodes of LOST in a row, I decided to get up and pump air into my bicycle tires for the first ride of spring.

It was a great day. I met up with one of my Korean friends for a great chat over coffee, then I met up with two fellow Torontonian ladies for a great dinner at an Italian place. The weather was so nice, that I also wore a non-down jacket for the first time in 2010 - busting out the faux leather bomber once again AND it was also warm enough to justify getting ice cream. So one of the Torontonian ladies and I decided to take our ice cream cones and walk home. This area of Daegu is pretty at night. We pass the river, the lights of downtown, and see flowers emerging.

As we were beginning to walk on the main road near downtown, I noticed that a tall white foreign guy was turning around every so often as he walked. This is common when you hear English in Korea - I often turn to look. Koreans often turn to look. And sometimes you do the expat-to-expat nod or what's up. Note that there are also black-to-black and hispanic-to-hispanic specific nods as well.

Dressed in jeans and baggy sweatshirt, he also had headphones on, and a general sloppy appearance kinda like those disheveled North American travelers/backpackers that give the rest of us a bad reputation for being terrible dressers. I noticed that he was walking at the same pace as us (not possible considering leg length difference when we are 5'3" and he is 6'4") and appeared to be straining to hear our conversation.

Halfway through the walk, my friend decided to pop into a convenience store to pick up a bottle of water. When we came out and stood to wait for the light to change, I noticed that the foreign guy was standing there. This struck me as odd, because in the amount of time we had taken in the store, he should have crossed already. Upon crossing the street I told my friend I had to check my cell so if we could please wait for a second. When he was out of earshot, I explained what I'd noticed, and she said that he was the reason she had suggested buying water. So we crossed the street, and continued walking and chatting.

However, a block later, we noticed that he had crossed the street to join us on the new side. This is when I knew something was wrong. He also looked too attentive - he was definitely not listening to anything on those headphones.

As we crossed the street, I debated on going into a bakery on the corner. As we slowed our pace, the foreign guy looked into the bakery window - he had clearly heard us.

So I did what any self-respecting woman should do. I stepped to the side of the sidewalk, much as I do to get out of the way when doing a cross-body lead, and I brought out my Esplanade roots that made me badder than Drake, and called out to him: "Hey! Do you have a problem!"

He immediately looked up after the "hey", proving that his ipod was off, and got a jumbled look on his face and shrugged a simple, no.

HA.

Somewhere around the time that I learned how to be strong after getting played by a gino in a souped up car, I also learned that I have power, in general. Why shrink into the corner? No one has the right to make you feel uncomfortable. There is one class of weirdo, that is just a lonely or awkward guy who stares because he is into you or wants friends or whatever - but the trick is recognizing that you have power to act in a situation. Obviously, you shouldn't stand up and antagonize a lone potential attacker in a dark alley, but a well-lit street in South Korea with significant pedestrian traffic, gets my approval for safe.

My friend laughed, and said, "there's that latin fire," a comment I hear frequently when I have loud outbursts or display "attitude" and put people in their place. Maybe it is - but call it what you like, it gets the job done.

After that, he picked up the pace and we kept an eye on him - then I got into a cab.

Home sweet home, imnida.

___________________ ~^____________________________

Yesterday we were out filming for an English language news program pilot based on Daegu Pockets magazine. Lucky for me, the pilot had a segment based on an article I wrote last year so we got to visit some cool places.

We started off at the InterBurgo Hotel where there is the Instituto Cervantes-affiliated Centro Cultural Espanol. I met a really lovely Korean professor who had lived in Colombia and we agreed to meet up for coffee sometime. She laughed when she heard me say "chevere" because it reminded her of the good old days in Bogota. We also filmed some of the students. It was really cool for me to see Korean students speaking Spanish. Many of them were pretty shy, but they were very dedicated to their studies - a lot of them came in from out of town just to study on a Saturday. Some of them wanted it for work, to learn a language other than English, or just to travel.

After filming a segment with the anchors in a rented studio space, we went to a tex-mex restaurant. At this point, our camera man had to go, but lucky for the team, a professional cameraman from a major Korean network was available. He had filmed the magazine's executive team a few weeks before for a news show and they had kept his contact. So I got the chance to work with him, which was very cool. Through interpretation and body language, he gave really good directions. He was an intense perfectionist as well - I walked into the restaurant many times, from many angles, looking in many different directions. He explained when to hold the mic, when to wear it, and little details like - if you are going to take off your jacket, we should film you taking it off.

All that filming I've been doing at work for those ESL videos has really paid off - I stare into the camera like its the foreign guy I told off today.

After that, we filmed at our salsa class. This was funny because I clearly couldn't be like, "hey, here is some blatant self promotion! This is MY salsa class and you should come!" So Susy did a fabulous job as the singular instructor and talked up what we do. We filmed a rueda with our advanced students for b-roll - something I am very anxious to get my hands on, and talked about an ending. We needed some kind of group shot where we yell out something enthusiastically. What could we yell that isn't cheesy?

"I love salsa" was scrapped. But we agreed on turning into a vacila y sienta (basically a turn where girls end up sitting on the guys' knee with arm in the air in a very showy style) and yelled "Yo quiero salsa" which, although cheesy as in "yo quiero taco bell", was decided to be tolerable in terms of allowed levels of cheese.

A successful day, but I was tired as heck, and developed some weird red eye thing that looks like I got punched in the eye or smoked up - two things I avoid. So we ended the night with a drink and some dancing at the ghetto fabulous Old Skool. And boy, is that place ghetto. You feel like you're in a club in the states with all the military presence. And they do all their american dances, including line dances, but once in a while it has its charm. I've got a little bit of a gangster in me, or rather, an alter ego of the girl who wears Baby Phat (or fubu in korea... jajajaja) on the gangster's arm.

But as fab as ghetto can be, I get my fill real fast, and went home at the early hour of 12:30 on a Saturday night, with a role of kimbap (korean sushi) since I realized I forgot to eat.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the weekend.

jEs.

THE GYM

Ahjummas, trainers, and crappy English

One of my largest pet peeves about Asia, is cutesy-nes. There is no way I will ever find a 30-year-old woman in a fluffy pink dress speaking in a baby voice charming.

So when I go to the gym in the morning, and specifically go to an empty aerobics studio to workout alone, it's because I don't want someone coming up to me and cheerfully having a conversation of pleasantries to practice their English. Which is why I avoid the new fresh-out-of-high school female trainer, who I'll call Trainer 1, because she likes to giggle and talk about shopping and boys, and just generally engages me on a level of cheerfulness that implies everything in life is peppy and super-awesome - not really sure how she helps people more than 100 pounds work out to get strong.

Some of the trainers are great - there is one guy who I'll call Trainer 2, who has actually taught me some really good exercises. And he is open about wanting to practice English - in a nice concise way - ie "give me one sentence to learn today" - which is more economical in terms of time, and is not annoying because he doesn't make me 1-skip my workout because he talks too much or 2-use a baby voice or 3- wear pink chiffon ruffles or weird 80s aerobics outfits.

However, this morning I was stretching in front of a mirror and I thought that me and my MP3 player were the only people on the floor. Trainer 2 literally popped out of nowhere and wished me a happy (Lunar) new year, then he changed the topic.

"Fat."
Huh?
"Body. Fat."
my body? his body? fat gained? fat lost?

I guess I didn't have a very pleased look on my face, because he immediately began talking about how he was training for some body building competition - and he has certainly bulked up in the suspiciously rapid way that makes me think CREATINE and STEROIDS and PROTEIN SHAKES.

But guess who else lacks cutesiness? Ahjummas.

I have developed the theory that the feisty, outspoken, brash ahjumma stereotype is a reaction to the repression that young Korean women suffered back in the day. Starving yourself over lunch with a black coffee or possibly a half a sweet potato? ANGER! Having to act like an innocent weak girl around your boyfriend so he doesn't think you're easy? ANGER! Having to wear pantyhose and "Sunday best" outfits every day complete with heat-styled hair, and having to get up extra early to get ready? ANGER!

After you're done your workout in the gym, you head to the sauna and hot tub area. There is one older woman who I see almost every day. When I have been having a conversation in English, she buts in and interrupts- even though she can't speak English. And she laughs at me in a loud brash tone for saying "I don't understand", and repeats my sentence over and over laughing. I get a huge kick out of the three layers of respect present in one instance of greeting:

Me: Anyong haseyo.

Other Lady: Anyongishimnika (other woman, older than me, but younger than her.... most formal greeting)

Ahjumma: Anyong.

Note that anyong is the LEAST formal greeting, and she is allowed to talk to us that way because she is older.

Which means the convo went something like this in English:

Me: Hello
Other Lady: Goodmorning
Ahjumma: Whats up

Every day when I greet her with an "anyonghaseyo" she nods as if she had been waiting for it, then she gives me my "anyong". Like clockwork, and the sky being blue, it's something I can count on to happen every day.

Cambio de clima

It doesn't exist in North America - where it should - when you go from -30 to 35 celsius every year.

But no - it only exists in countries where, ironically, the weather doesn't change that much from season to season.

Today in Daegu, I have a cold. I was sniffling. And I was also on the phone with a friend from Peru.

"Ay Melinda, no te preocupes. Es el cambio de clima no mas."

Brings a smile to my face every time.

How tight is too tight?

el pantalón apretado! a good thing?

Americans are laughing at Canadian snowboarders at this year's Winter Olympics in Vancouver, because their pants are too tight.

I wonder what they'd say about skinny jeans on guys in Korea?

A MEXICAN, A GUATEMALAN, A PUERTO RICAN, AND AN ECUADORIAN WALK INTO A BAR

Writing about Seoul's Latin hot spots requires a weekend of partying - it's only responsible!

In a nutshell, me, Dalia, Sergio, and Ivan went to Seoul to eat, party, and work on an article for Daegu Pockets.

Because there were four of us, we were able to book the family seating on the KTX (Korea's bullet train), something I had never done before. We saved about $15 bucks each, and had the luxury of a table. We used this table to eat, and study Korean out loud, much to the amusement of a Korean guy who sent us a sideways glance and tried to mask a smile.

We went to a Brasilian Churrasquería place called Ipanema. Tasty - but shitty for me, because I didn't eat any of the six types of meat served on long metal skewers and sliced onto rustic wooden tablets. Great salad bar, and I charmed my way into the kitchen where I met a Korean chef who lived in Argentina and Brasil, and where Ivan snapped some pictures of the roasting hot coals.

Next up, we went to drop our bags off at our love motel. In Seoul, I usually stay at the classy Seoul Motel, in the heart of Itaewon which is just as great for morning coffee as it is for ending your night out without having to worry about a cab.

We had a lot of eating to do, so we went to La Casera for our first dinner. (what? don't judge) Owned by a bi-ethnic (mi raza) Korean-Ecuadorian from Guayaquil, the menestra, arroz, tortillas, fritada, empanadas and PATACONES are to die for and taste like those $1.50 almuerzos you can by at the beach in Manabí. As far as I know this is Seoul's only Ecuadorian restaurant. And I have a big hispanic network that I trust would have told me if there was another. I found out about this place because a Peruvian friend gave me the business card and told the owners to expect a paisana to be visiting soon. I paid for an empanada de queso y plátanos, but I got a story for free. Our server was from Peru, so, being original, I decided to make a comment about how much I love Peruvian ceviche. She immediately leaned in and looked me in the eye.
"Ceviche is an aphrodisiac. Pero lo más afrodisiaco de todo es el ceviche de concha negra."
I failed to see how feeding your man an aphrodisiac is a bad thing, but she warned me that post-ceviche de concha negra, "Mejor le digas que no!"
~~~~~
After escaping from la cuenta de nunca acabar, we went to a Puerto Rican couple Tino y Glenid's home for a party with two purposes - one, a goodbye party for the man of the house. Two - a chef team was cooking up a storm in preparation for an international competition. Arroz, frijoles, crab, flan, torta de tres leches, torta de tres leches de chocolate, crema de coco, a postre with aguacate that was surprisingly good.... and let's just say if I lived in Seoul I would be really fat.

Their place was packed and I met a lot of good people and laughed hard - my ear is also getting used to the Puerto Rican accent. I have finally gotten over the whole R turns to L thing, mujel, but I couldn't resist the hilariously technical language of my friend the linguist who said, "his syllable-final nasals are velarized."

We went dancing at Caliente, a club with a Latin, as opposed to purely salsero, feel. Tightly packed, you couldn't have crammed more Latinos into a family sleepover after Navidad in a one-bedroom apartment. Spanish! Spanish! Kisses on the cheek! and ambiente! We danced until 3am and I didn't even wear my salsa shoes. But as latino as it was, there were still brown guys who showed up.

-Excuse me. Marrock?
-(me) WHAT?
-Marrock?
-Morroco? Marruecas?
-YES!
-Sorry. E-CUA-DOR-IAN.
-But ...
-NO.

Note: asking me if I am from your country is not a clever pick up strategy. Damn this being mixed and looking ethnically ambiguous! But wait! in a spanish club, how ambiguous is my ethnicity.. really? It's like a big flashing arrow wearing a sombrero is pointed at it for you.

Back in the Seoul Motel, I fell asleep with my head beside Dalia's feet, on an overly hot Korean sleeping pad with an overly hot Korean heat lamp. In the morning, being the early riser that I am, I studied Korean and wrote article notes before Dalia stirred, but she later told me, "I heard you mumbling to yourself while you were reading."

We went for lunch at a spanish restaurant called Mi Madre. (La Tuya!) Delicious tortilla espanola, crisp baby green salad, croquettas, saffron rice that rivals Iran .. and just wait to read my article for a longer description. Rico!

The last task of the day was the most sacred one. Buying plantains.

Option one: 2m by 4m Nigerian black hair care product store. They have one cardboard box of Ecuadorian plantains that has been moved inside for the winter from its usual perch outside the door.

Option two: Call Market, a Filipino run "foreign food mart" where you can get goods from costco and off the black market, i.e. purchased on the US military base and re sold with a mark up.

I cleaned out Call Market's plantain supply, and even sent the lady to get more. But guess what happened while I was paying with my debit card? All I heard was a scream. "Melinda! Apuuuuuuuuuuuurate!" (Thanks to Ivan for immediately writing this down:)

Dalia being the dog person that she is, noticed a dog walk out of a dark bar. It was mid afternoon and sunny. A lady followed, carrying a dog, and saying, "Ugh! Disgusting man! So stress!"

Apparently a man had bought one beer, overstayed his welcome, then asked her, "Can I fuck you?"

The lady was extremely offended, and appealed to Dalia's sympathy as a woman, as she talked to her as if she was the man.

"I’m not a hooker! Do I look like a hooker? I say you look like a hooker fucker!"

Dalia asked about the dog she was carrying, but the woman ignored her and continued her rant.

"I said to him that I don’t have a pussy. I told him I went to the laundromat last night and got it stitched. I said to him, if you want a hooker, draw your favorite ass on the wall, cut a hole and fuck the wall! Save yourself 20,000won and suck your own dick!" ...as she pushed Dalia's head up and down mimicking... the motion. Guess that's why Dalia told me to hurry up so we could leave.

Then we went back to Daegu. Great weekend in Seoul.

ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

borrowing spanish to talk about love

Spanish as a way to articulate strong emotions.

During scenes where strong and passionate emotions relating to love and sex are exhibited, symbols of Latin-ness pop up, from music playing, to Spanish itself being spoken. Why? Because of the damn latin lover craze that is the story of my life. This means that Spanish is borrowed by decidedly non-Spanish/Latino/-a people in moments of pasión as a way of articulating these emotions, or maybe even as a fun role to step in to as they toy with being sexy following the lead of the world-class masters themselves.

Don't ask why I was watching an Afghan singer - it's a long story. Anyways regresando al tema, as I was listening to afghan singer Valy sing about Setara-jaan, my ears perked up when the Dari lyrics were suddenly interrupted by a low female voice. "Hola mi amor" followed by the obviously spanish (and I mean SPAIN when I say Spanish) "te echo de menos."

And this guy doesn't even respond to her in Spanish - he replies in English, which suggests he doesn't speak any Spanish (same goes for her with that accent), underscoring the fact that "spanish-ness" is just being borrowed. But why? Well the girl is lying down, and suggestively toying with a pearl necklace [Her hand obscuring part of the necklace makes it either an ambiguous tasbeh, or rosary (am I the only person who turns rosaries into a sexual symbol?)], and clearly spelling out that she is there to represent sexiness - punto. And what comes out of this symbol of sexiness? Spanish! The rest of the video is him dancing about alone. Spanish only enters the scene in an intimate moment between lovers. He is alone in his (souped up) car, she is lying down seductively. When the lovers conversation stops, so does the Spanish.

I was thinking about this when I watched Korean drama Coffee Prince. There's a scene when Eun Sae (protagonist Go Eun Chan's sister) is outside with the sexy and unfortunately dead (que descanse en paz) Lee Eon. As he goes crazy with love for her, he starts running up and down an alley. As he begins this frenzied display of emotion, what else starts to play, but Latin music.

And what about Sex and the City? Samantha's lesbian lover María is from Brasil, but she talks like a vata loca from Compton and addresses her ambiguously pan-latin friends as chica. When they get into a lovers quarrel, María displays her fiery Latin passion by throwing plates. To what? You guessed it. A soundtrack of Latin music.

What surprises me is the extent to which Latin-ness has penetrated the world as the best code through which to act out sexiness and love. I even notice Koreans letting themselves go more than usual in a salsa environment - Latin dance is a safe, and appropriate realm to be sexy - well, so is comedy.

This is one of my favourite subjects to discuss, so expect more on the matter.

La Bendita.

UNA QUEJA

Nativohablante de quefffff

Estoy harta de que me digan que tengo un acento hispano. Claro que hablo español. Pero soy canadiense y a lo mejor tengo acento canadiense al hablar español. Pues tengo un montón de ejemplos de cómo la gente ven mi ciudadanía mexicana (soy ecuatoriana) pero hoy voy a enfocar un una de las incidencias que me parece más interesante por su naturaleza sutil.

Hace más de un año empecé a ser una de los rockstars de los videos que mi compañía usa para las tareas que los niños usan en el Internet. Hice mi audición y de una me contrataron y filmaba casi todos los días un par de meses. Pero un día me dijeron “no estás en el Schedule para la otra semana.” La semana siguiente pasé por el estudio de film para recoger el Schedule para la semana siguiente. Otra vez el gerente del equipo de film hizo una mueca y me dijo que no iba a estar en el Schedule de la semana que venía pero seguro para la próxima. Ya estaba acostumbrada a la forma de hablar super indirecta de algunos países de habla hispano y reconocía el rechazo… pues seguía con la grabación de voz que estaba haciendo pero no volví a hacer video.

Pues unos meses después me topé con la mera mera, la gran jefa coreana de la oficina quien es pariente de nuestro CEO, en la coffee room de la oficina principal donde trabajo ahora. Platicamos un rato, y muy amable me preguntó por qué no estaba haciendo filming. Le dije que no tenía idea pero que siempre me gustaba hacerlo. Algunas horas después me llamaron para venir el día siguiente. Como solían hacer me dieron el guión para leer de antemano. Era muy corto para una sesión de 1.5 horas, lo normal de la oficina. Cuando llegue el día siguiente mi partner de filming me preguntó si estaba lista para mi audición. Audición? Pues ya lo había hecho antes, para que una audición. Después de terminar la sesión, llegó una de las gerentes para ver el video. Lo vio y después de 5 minutos lo aprobó y me pusieron en el Schedule de nuevo empezando la semana después.

Por qué me quejo? Sigue leyendo.

Durante la fiesta de navidad del trabajo el año pasado, platicaba con un amigo de la compañía con quien actuaba en los videos. Me dijo en confidencia, y por eso escribo en español, que me habían cortado de la lista de actores porque alguien, al redactar uno de los videos, escuchó mi acento hispano.

Acento hispano? Pues nací en Canadá y crecí hablando mucho más inglés que español, especialmente con mi mama, quien es 100% menonita, gringa, canadiense, blanca. Como estudiante de lingüística, esto me ofendía no por sugerir que soy aún más latina – de eso soy super orgullosa – pero me ofendía el intelecto porque es imposible. Los nativohablantes desarrollan sus acentos de niño y aunque nadie sabe 100%, mucho estudios sugieren que la edad crítica para aprender un nuevo idioma y hablarlo como nativohablante es 12 o 13 años. Pero olvidando eso, como así un acento ecuatoriano de haber nacido y crecido en Canadá?

La mera mera, después de encontrarse conmigo en la coffee room, se había dirigido a mi amigo quien tenía muchos amigos latinos en Canadá, y le preguntó si yo tuviera un acento hispano. Le dijo que no, y la jefa se puso a ver videos de mi para llegar a conclusión que no tenía acento hispano y quedaron con la idea de hacer una nueva audición.

Pero me quedé pensando en como podía haberles dejado con la impresión que no hablo mi idioma materno como… idioma materno.

Pues la única cosa que pudiera haber hecho aparecer un fantasma de acento es mi aspecto físico. Mis facciones latinas. O sea, una suposición de cómo soy basada en mi apariencia. Esto no se llama estereotipo o racismo?

Soy Latina. Eso es mi identidad. Me identifico como una persona de color. Y diría que hay un acento “urban” que los que no son blancos usan en Norteamérica para hablar inglés. Por eso se puede decir “you talk white” en el barrio – se escucha una diferencia. Tal vez hablaba con mi acento “urban” por un rato y lo grabaron? Tal vez hacía uno de mis chistes con un acento hispano un ratito y grabaron eso? (jes)

Pero no creo. Cuando tienes un “eerie feeling” que algo podría ser basado en el racismo sutil, usualmente estás correcto.

Hablamos de una forma entre amigos, entre amantes, en la oficina, con la familia, cuando queremos que alguien nos haga un favor. Hablamos de otra forma cuando somos de dos culturas o más como yo y cuando uno vive esta mezcla diariamente.

Pero hay que reconocer que hay estratificación lingüística. Tenemos la asociación de ciertos rasgos lingüísticos con hablantes pertenecientes a uno u otro grupo socio-económico cultural, para prestar una idea de la lingüista Silva-Corvalán. Entonces no funciona al revés? O sea, deciden que soy de un cierto grupo y después me pintan con características que este supuesto grupo supuestamente tiene.

Decir que tengo un acento hispano no es un cumplido. Lo que nadie dijo, la razón de no querer esta forma de hablar como modelo para los niños coreanos es que mi habla como hispanohablante sea incorrecta porque no pertenece a una persona blanca que representa el ejemplo ejemplar del ingles perfecto. Ser blanco es ser más autentico como ingléshablante. Qué lástima cuando hay tantas personas multilingües con una variedad de acentos que son más que capaces de enseñar inglés. Y ahorita me cago de la risa pensando en como tenía que esforzarme para mejorar mi español y distanciarme del ingles, cuando tal vez debo hacer mas esfuerzo que me acepten…. como nativohablante…. de mi idioma nativo.

Chuta.

Akihabara

MAID CAFES, GEEKS, AND NON-SEXUAL PORN


Today I found a new place to drink coffee: a maid cafe. check this link out for the english version of the site and read more about cosplay cafes in general




Heading up the escalator, I was the only woman.
These were a few of the pics on the walls.

We had to wait outside, and were told not to take pictures. girls in french maid outfits were visible inside. A man in a suit came up to us and asked us how we would like to be addressed by the maids. I opted for my name with "san" at the end, for respect.

When we walked in, a maid immediately kneeled before us and said in Japanese, "welcome home master".

I was expecting to see big dorks and computer geek types inside, but was surprised at how normal most of the people looked. I was the only woman customer, however.

I watched as one normal looking guy transformed into a geek - he looked like he was about to clap his hands in delight as a maid served him his cutesey pancake cut into a shape, and then proceeded to draw a cutesy design on it in chocolate syrup. Then she sang a song, got him to join in with the singing and hand gestures, then they both made the heart hand shape:


I ordered spaghetti. Instead of drawing a picture, the maid mixes it for you. She also made me repeat her song, and we made heart hands and put "love" into the spaghetti together. We also did this for my melon soda - she asked, "which kind of straw is your mood?" I went with pink. And in went the love from me, her, and my companion.

I have a card as proof of my visit. It says "-san"




Next up in Akihabara, was a porn store - or rather, floors and floors of porn in a casually almost unmarked building that looks like any old apartment, save for a small sign:

I’m no expert in this field, but what blew me away was the lack of overt sexuality in the films I saw. I guess that’s fetish culture – maybe you’re just really into watching athletes stretch, or watching a stiletto crush a giant tarantula. De gustos y colores no discuten los doctores, meng. And also, they were soo darn specific. Not just “tennis players” – but looking at the inner lining of tennis shorts worn over regular undergarments. No sex. Just straight up voyeurism.

As a disclaimer, my friend told me, “you’re gonna see stuff so freaky that you won’t even believe it’s in a sex shop because it’s that weird – it doesn’t even look like porn.”

I didn’t get it until I saw what we were dealing with. Here’s a list of a few DVD themes I saw that made me go WTF. The good news for those of you who go “hey, I’ve always liked that but thought I was all alone” is that you can feel at home in Akihabara.


La Bendita’s “wtf” Fetish List:

Samba Fetish: women wearing carnaval costumes

Lining/underwear-that-is-attached-to-a-tennis-skirt/shorts (worn over regular panties) Fetish

Women beating up men Fetish: gangs of teenage girls beat up a man while he cowers in a corner with a nosebleed

Jumping Fetish: girls jumping onto a man that is lying on a pile of sand

Swimmer Fetish: women wearing one-piece speedos chilling by the pool

Amazon Woman Fetish: amazon woman beats up a guy

Stretching Fetish: Stretching before a track and field meet

Muscle Woman Fetish: muscular woman exercising in a hotel room

Sneezing Fetish: just a video of people sneezing

Pianist Foot Fetish: watching feet play the piano. sometimes in stockings or shoes. but just feet pressing the piano pedals shot from below the knee

Strong-woman-crushing-shit Fetish: a strong woman crushing food and pop cans with her hands

Stilletto+Food Punishment Fetish: woman mashing food with stilettos then forcing a man to eat it while he lies on the floor and she kicks food into his mouth and steps on him

Mask-woman goes Sightseeing Fetish: a man puts a natural looking human FACE mask on a woman then takes her out to go sightseeing. She rides in a car, then drinks pop on a ferry ride
-all while wearing a mask.

But we agreed that this was the ultimate weirdest: Big-woman-crushing-a city-Fetish: a woman wearing a bikini stomps over a city much like king kong. She crushes buildings, cars, and even the bullet train.

After all of that, I needed some fresh air. We went for a walk and saw this couple

then ended up eating tempura cooked by this guy:


Reports about Tokyo nightlife and the salsa scene coming next.

Harajuku

SUSHI, SHOPPING, AND PANTIES IN HARAJUKU


Today I did a rare thing - I slept in. As a person who usually bounces out of bed when it's still dark outside, I was definitely busting up my routine. Kaz's girlfriend Kyoko-chan was already gone for work -she's a fashion designer - so Kaz and I made a pot of coffee with the greca (Puerto Rico) / stove top espresso maker [s.t.e.m. (canada)] / moka pot (korea) and looked into Tokyo areas. I like shopping. I like people watching. And I like weird subculture.

I settled on Harajuku for my first day of exploration. Harajuku is known for intense funky fashion . It's so well-known that even Gwen Stefani tried to become a Harajuku girl (she also tried and failed miserably to look latina in one video) and ended up making a perfume: http://www.hlfragrance.com/. But when you think of crazy Japanese street fashion and cosplay (from Costume Play, where people dress like actual anime characters or little bo peep a.k.a. Lolita) this is the neighbourhood that will give you your fix.


(I took this pic last April the last time I was in Tokyo)

Leaving Kaz to work on a "dance-techno-jpop" track, I threw a Tokyo subway map into my bag, and headed out to navigate Tokyo's massive subway line. Harajuku wasn't too bad - Only one transfer away. Much like Korea, everything is in English. There are electronic signs that tell you to the minute what time your train will come, which side of the train to get off, and where to transfer.

In Harajuku, I checked out the Nike Store. Designed by Masamichi Katayama, the interior has turned the Nike shoe into art using shoelaces, mesh uppers, and bits of rubber soles to make collages. I tend to splurge more on heels and other footwear that causes immediate reactions of "fierce" to pulsate through my body, but it was really cool to see people sitting down with nike "consultants" to design their own shoe. I saw one couple repeatedly changing the colour of a shoe's sole. Did he want periwinkle, or midnight blue? Ay yi yiii



Next I spent a ridiculous amount of time shopping in Forever 21, and various vintage stores. I was assisted by a girl who looked exactly like Little Bo Peep. Rosy cheeks, and layers of lace, crinolines and white cotton eyelets that belong in a picnic by the river in the 19th century. Now customer service is GOOD in Korea, but I feel like there is an extra smile and bow here in Japan. The lady took the basket of clothes I wanted to try on and folded them for me - in the reverse order that they were placed in the basket. That's right - she arranged them in the order I had grabbed them off the racks! And of course, you must take off your shoes before entering the change room - but come on, you knew that already.

Today I saw a lot of people wearing Russian Hats.


Yeah, just like this guy - but on a cute and stylish Japanese young woman with a miniskirt and knee socks - and yes, this is what people are wearing in WINTER.

Next I went to a coffee shop to wait for Kaz. I sat down to do some writing and continue to force myself to make a decision via writing about what I am going to do with my life. But I got distracted by two things. First, I was watching a teenage girl beside me in the middle of an intensely long makeup process. This girl applied black pencil eyeliner and fake lashes, in little groups of three or four, while her coffee sat in front of her. She and her friend were in high school uniforms and I got the impression they were transforming themselves for a wild night out.

And secondly, there was a white American guy talking loudly. Why does this always happen? I mean a loud, arrogant white guy, who speaks at a volume that booms over everyone else. And I guess when you live in Asia as a foreigner, you get used to tuning things out. I can sit peacefully in a coffee shop in Korea and ignore everyone if I want to. But hearing him speak in my native tongue forced me to listen. And now I know lots about him. He's an artist. He's a musician. He is a reformed playa. Sitting with his female companion, he then moved on to his sexual exploits dating 6 women at once when he first arrived in Japan. His companion was Peruvian - my ears first perked up when I heard a Spanish accent speaking English - jes- but I almost wanted to tell her en español, lady, your companion is a douche. Find another gringo.

Once Kaz arrived we walked around Harajuku entering a hat store, piled high with old-skool hat boxes, marc by marc jacobs where i decided i didn't need a new wallet after all, and went for a delicious sushi dinner at a restaurant with a rotating belt. I only eat thin slices of sashimi because the texture weirds me out, and of course we drank green tea - do-it-yourself with green tea powder and a hot water dispenser. Before meeting up with Kyoko-chan for drinks at a traditional Japanese sake and plum wine bar, we went for a walk in the Love Motel district.

I was curious - I wanted to see a weird freaky japanese fetish store. You always hear about strange sexual fetishes in Japan, from bukake porn to anime character fun, but certainly one of the most talked-about specialties is the "used panty craze". As we walked by one store, Kaz read in Japanese, "used lingerie". I'm no 변태 - and neither is Kaz (^-^) but I decided that I had to check this one off the list.

So on my insistence (I promised Kaz I would write this in a way that doesn't make him look like a perv so let's be clear that it was my idea to go in) we went in. The store had extremely narrow aisles, of the type where if you ran into someone else you would be forced to squeeze by them, making bumping into someone in a sex shop all the more awkward. There was a dude at the counter with long stringy bleached hair who didn't even look up when we walked in. And then I saw them.

There were two shelves of panties neatly folded into squares and placed in identical plastic packages. They sat in plastic trays, and had labels in Japanese. I picked up a few packages to examine them. Most of the labels said, "High School Girl" but one said "Older Beautiful Lady" - those were beige and cotton.. jajaja

After passing by the strap-ons, I decided that I'd had enough and we left.

CHECK!

From the tips of their toes in Tokyo

From the second I arrived in the Tokyo boarding area at the airport, I saw a lot of Timberlands / re-constructed (ha!) construction type and chunky boots on guys. This trend has not reached Daegu.


Girls are also doing interesting things with leg wear – layering colourful or patterned knee-socks over black tights, and industrial (evoking 95-95) or desert boots (80s) are the footwear that’s hot, as are black versions of the J-Lo Manolo Blahnik tims. You’ve got to give it to your Seoul and Tokyo saram... they know how to dress.

Images borrowed from style-arena.jp

Daegu-Incheon-Tokyo: from the airport

When I fly out of Korea, I can choose between leaving from Incheon, a suburb of Seoul about a 4.5 hour bus ride away, or Busan, which is a 1 hour ride.

The Busan flight was at a crappy time, and was more expensive.

So I set off for Incheon in the middle of the night, on the “airport limousine bus”. The slightly more expensive bus (35 000 won) has seats that are more like a Laz-E-Boy. Huge, they lean back and have foot rests. Standard bus etiquette is to sleep – maybe that’s why people pay more – they expect to catch some zzs – and I have been told to shut up on more than one occasion. This time I slept for four hours straight, opening and closing my eyes briefly at the rest stop, then woke up right at the door of the airport.

I work pretty hard in Korea. A full time job, media work that gives me overtime, salsa, freelance writing, and dreaming about what I want to do with my life...it can wear a woman out. So when I decide to vacation, I like to spoil myself.

Incheon is a huge airport that puts Toronto’s Pearson to shame. Full of designer stores, cafes, restaurants, a muslim prayer room, beauty salons and more, I had budgeted my time to explore the airport and enjoy a little bit of pampering before flying out. So I headed to the basement to the sauna. Now a sauna in Korea is not simply a steam room with the possibility of a hot tub. You can rent private nap rooms, or just sleep on one of the heated floors – a cheaper alternative for those who don’t want to go to a hotel - and enjoy hot tubs of various temperatures, steam and salt rooms.

A close cousin of the more elaborate jimjilbang, upon arrival at the sauna you are given a key, a towel, and a shorts and t-shirt combo that looks like high school gym class. You lock up your shoes in a shoe locker. Then go into the change room that matches your sex. Looking at the menu of services, I settled on a “scrub”. The thai massage was a whopping 110,000 won – (about $100 CA) which is a crime when you have memories of paying $6 for an hour of full-body massage in Thailand itself, which Ainy describes as “stretching your body without having to do any work yourself.”

I have seen these scrub-downs in Jimjilbangs and saunas. An ahjumma, or older woman, usually wearing a black lacey bra and panty set, prepares a massage table. I have seen cucumber slices placed on faces, mud and salt rubbed over skin, and vigorous vigorous rubbing.

My ahjumma was also wearing some gym class shorts on top of her bra and panty set. She dumped a bucket of water over the table and told me to lie down. She put on an exfoliating mitt, and got to work scrubbing my body. Starting at my feet, she really left only the most intimate of places un-touched. The scrub down was so damn vigorous, that my body was raw, and I debated telling her to stop, or say, “that’s enough!” more than once. But I didn’t want to be a wimp – and I wanted to see what the full treatment was anyways. First I lay on my back. Then my side. Then the other side, then on my stomach. Then we did it all over again. I don’t think I’ve been this well-exfoliated in a long time. So I went into the steam room to complete the purification process. And then feeling like my entire body was exactly the same texture as a baby’s ass, I proceeded to leisurely apply creams and make-up, and emerged glowing.

Then it was time to check-in. I was wondering why there were so many Americans. How do I know they are American (soldiers)? First of all, the un-becoming crew cut that so many white and Hispanic soldiers sport. At least most military black guys have the decency to shave their heads with a proper fade. I mean, why the hell would you get a crew cut when you can have the perfectly acceptable and arguably more attractive evenly shaved head? Sometimes I get exasperated when men ruin their look – I firmly beleive that it’s way easier to be a hot guy than a hot girl.

The other military sign is the camo backpack. Yeah. Anyways a lady came by with cards promoting some service that I didn’t catch, and only handed them out to Koreans. She started at the back of the line, and would sometimes step slightly in front of someone, or move up just enough to see the side of their face, before approaching them. This was her checking to see if they are Korean. I find this hilarious – often when I am downtown, people tap me on the shoulder to ask for directions. When I turn around, and they see a foreign face, they walk away. This also happens from the front when I wear sunglasses. I chalk it up to my decidedly Korean 5’3 stature and skin colouring – Sharifa would often lose me in a sauna without her glasses because naked, I blend in pretty well.

Back to the line? A flight attendant came by and spoke to only the Korean people in the line – in Korean. I watched her as she skipped the foreigners, talked to Koreans, and then the Koreans would leave the line and go to a First Class area with no line up. When she approached the couple in front of me, I finally heard what she was saying. She was offering them the chance to by-pass the long line with “self check in”. I followed the Korean couple and let her know, in Korean, that I was also going to Tokyo and would also like to go with the self-check-in option. She smiled courteously with a slight bow of the head and said, “ne.” My Korean is far from perfect, but I still have to laugh at the fools that don’t even bother to learn how to read the alphabet (and I am solely judging those who stay in Korea to work for more than a year, which definitely justifies learning to read Hangeul, a feat which can be accomplished in one day minus a few tricky pronunciation glitches which can be smoothed out in a short time) and miss out on opportunities to usurp “Korean only” opportunities.

One more airport feature that stands out is the collection of "Traditional Korean Areas". Women dressed in Hanbok speak English and teach you how to make a traditional craft for free. I made a little wooden desk today as I chatted with the ladies in Konglish, and listened to a traditional music performance. Last year I decorated a plate with coarse traditional paper which my mother has.

Next up... stories from Tokyo itself. I'm staying with Kaz, a friend I met about 12 years ago who went to high school and university with me.