Korean education does not appear to have much time for general knowledge or creativity. While the children leaving the system are certainly doing well in maths, science and often a dab hand on the piano, it is often a narrow range of topics that they seem to learn. There are stand out children who have a wide range of interests and understanding of the world, but they always seem to have learnt this at home due to travelled and well read parents.
I suppose the same could be said for kids back home, but everything seems magnified here.
Outside of hating Japan, viewing Africa as dirty and lauding Korea, many kids really have very little knowledge about the rest of the world. Which makes it very easy for me to appear far more well read and educated than I am.
I wowed a class of 12 year olds with my knowledge of capital cities. "Teacher what is the capital of Kenya?" why that would be "Nairobi". And gasps of amazement. Of course the best thing in such a quiz is that the people setting the questions do not know the answers. This means that even if I am stumped by an outlandishly obscure question such as "What is the capital of Wales?", I can say "Grimbinlop" and my audience are still stunned by my intellect and clap their hands with delight.
I was due to go to a pub quiz or "trivia night" as the American organisers called it and this quick fire question round in my class was honing my skills. I got home and decided I needed some more severe testing but then got a Skype call from Little Spoon who is of course back in LA. Well I figured it would be similar to the quiz in my class and even if it was not testing, I could once more pretend I was a genius.
But somehow I ended up asking her questions on capital cities and decided to throw her the curve ball classic of "What is the capital of Australia?".
Of course she fell for it and went with Sydney. The fool. I sniggered and offered her a second shot. At this point people either remember the answer (which is Canberra by the way you ignorant scum) or they say something like Melbourne....pfffttt...as if!
They don't however think outside the box like Little Spoon does and answer with "Madagascar".
So I went to quiz night a little unprepared. I was with my friend Tanya who recently told me that when she first met me with her fiance Steve she hated me so much that she told him if he wanted to spend time with me in the future he would have to do it alone. I was delighted to see that I have not lost the knack of providing people with an excellent first impression of myself.
Apparently she had thought I was sexist and ignorant! Bless her pretty little head, it had probably been that time of the month. But since then she had learnt how wide of the mark she had been and we were now a brilliant quiz duo.
We bumped into my friend Minix down there and with his degree in classics and ancient history we stormed through the history round. Tanya blitzed a music video round with two more team mates Ariella and Natalie and I was biding my time to unleash my plethora of wisdom.
Capital cities did not come up! Nor did my other areas of expertise which are hip-hop from 1993-1997 and the question "Who was the infamous son of Agripinna the Younger?".
What a stupid quiz. We came joint fifth.
There was a bonus round where one person answers a question for a big cash prize. It was something about Laotian mythology. I was in Laos not long ago, but only remember tubing, laughing at hippies and nearly being decapitated by a small masseuse. Why didn't I pay more attention to their mythology?
If only there had been a question like "What is the most surreal answer to the classic question, 'What is the capital of Australia'?" then perhaps I could have claimed the jackpot. More depressing was the fact that although I say capital cities did not come up, there was in fact one question on the subject. It asked what the capital city of Greenland was.
I didn't know. Apparently it is "Nuuk", which sounds suspiciously like the sort of answer I would give to my 12 year olds if I didn't know. I looked at the quiz master closely for signs of deceit, but he appeared to be playing straight.
So I will be back next week, this time with Dubs as another team mate. Until then I will make myself feel smarter by another question round with my kids later today. This particular class don't know shit! Ha ha. I'm the worlds most learned man in that classroom.
But although they don't know much about the world outside Korea and although they struggle to create stories in their projects or be imaginative, they do have a variety of pencil cases and t-shirts bearing almost poetic prose.
Because as anyone who has lived in Korea or many other parts of Asia will know, people have English words and phrases on all manner of clothing and more often than not it is a random stream of unconnected words that means nothing. For example "Flower, Happy The Sunshine Girls" I beg your pardon?
But I looked at one girl named "Hotdog" who always sits near the front and has so much energy that I feel like spiking her chocolate milk with Valium, and saw her pencil case was decorated with what appeared to be a poem.
It was written in fancy lettering within speech marks, so I picked it up to read, and it was not a random string of words.
It read well despite one grammatical error and it told a dark, haunting tale that gave me food thought.
You could say that this was a truly profound pencil case and this snippet of literature may well change your life. Enjoy...
"The rabbit trying to trick the cat into sitting on her broken chair, while the monkey is pedaling along on his squeaky bicycle."
A SQUEAKY Bicycle. The Bicycle was squeaky! Think about that for a moment.
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
Umbrellas And Korean Newborns.
I bet that was a sentence you never expected to see. Even as I typed it out I felt I might be on to something pretty unique. So I googled Umbrellas and Korean Newborns to see if was truly a pioneer; a sole voice on the world wide web who dared break conventions and place Asian infants alongside the worlds most popular instrument for keeping dry in rainy conditions.
I wasn't. But the first link sounded extremely promising. It was apparently a video of a "Happy Narcoleptic Baby". Narcolepsy is always good for a laugh and babies have their moments so this sounded exactly the sort of thing I needed on a Wednesday. I clicked on the link and scrolled down to read the following information above the video...
"Don't worry, this adorable Korean baby doesn't really have narcolepsy".
Well that was a fucking anticlimax.
I wasn't worried, I was looking forward to it you deceitful bastard. In fact the only reason I clicked your link was to see a baby with narcolepsy who had maintained a positive disposition and outlook on life. Now I was faced with a video of a baby who was just "very tired" and who "keeps waking up, smiling..." ahhh shut up.
All babies are very tired and they all wake up too. I should have known this video would be a con. Babies are some of the laziest people on the planet so you could never diagnose narcolepsy in the little, stunted, workshy layabouts.
I have digressed slightly and you may wonder why I was including Korean newborns in this title to begin with, and I can assure you it was not simply to have a go at infants.
Upon my return to work I was informed that one of the Korean teachers had just had his first child. His wife had given birth the day before and we were given a card to sign and then asked to put in some money for a gift but to just "give whatever you would like".
Hmmmm. That might not work. If I were to give whatever I would like, I would give you absolutely nothing. In fact, if this baby has a savings account set up for him or her, I wouldn't mind borrowing from it to be honest. Provided whatever I borrow doesn't ever have to be paid back.
Some donations seemed very generous. Too generous to go towards someone who will be happy playing with a piece of wool for the next 12 months and then get immense joy from cardboard boxes for at least a couple of years after that.
But I have a reputation as a generous and thoughtful man to maintain so I wrote a heartfelt message and threw in a bundle of notes. After our meeting we clapped the new father into the room and were then shown a video from the hospital. For one ghastly moment I thought it might be a Korean tradition to share videos of the birth with co workers, but thankfully it was just a nurse holding up the baby after it had been cleaned and wrapped in a blanket.
And this is where Korea or perhaps just this one hospital takes things too far. The wrapping up. Because the blanket was wrapped in a tight square around the baby which meant it just looked like a small pillow with a human head attached. A cute little head belonging to a baby, but the body was just a pillow. No arms or legs could be seen. Not even the shape.
Which means that either his child had no limbs and he was delighted with this outcome or Korean hospitals wrap up babies like little pillows and just leave their heads poking out. I decided the second possibility was more likely. Why do they do that?
I didn't want to raise the question at that moment as everyone was cooing and clapping and shaking his hand, so to shout out "Hold on, excuse me, why have they wrapped your daughter up like a pillow? It looks like she doesn't have limbs" might dampen the atmosphere some what.
So I still don't know. If you are Korean and read this, please leave a message and tell me if this is the norm.
So to umbrellas. I tried to think of a clever link there, but umbrellas and babies just don't go together I'm afraid.
The problem I had was that it had not rained since I returned and I had no reason to believe it would. Rainy season is over and the weather has been great. So I have not concerned myself with getting an umbrella, and I was happy with this arrangement.
Until I woke up to hear the rain. Pouring rain. The type of rain that would make you quite wet indeed if you were to say walk a ten minute trip to work in it without so much as an umbrella for protection.
I began to ring co workers in my apartment block. No answer. They were probably outside with their umbrellas talking about how terrible it would be to be a person without one in this sort of weather. They were talking about me. I should resign...no, no, too drastic. I should just try and find an umbrella or accept going to work like a drowned rat.
My new apartment was previously lived in by a girl who I used to work with. She had very kindly emailed me about leaving useful things behind if I wanted them, and I had been lucky enough to get a fair bit of food, cleaning products and an iron etc. She had not mentioned an umbrella but she was the sort of person who might well have owned one. The more I thought about it, the more I seemed to remember her always being dry even during rainy weather.
I began to open every cupboard and draw in the place. Seeing as I live in a shoebox apartment that was not quite the epic search you might have envisaged, and in the last cupboard I opened....triumph. An umbrella!
Oh but the triumph was short lived. Because of course this was a girls old apartment. This umbrella had a brightly coloured handle, and huge turquoise polka dots all over it. It was a quite incredibly feminine umbrella. I am a man. A man who likes rare steak, films with gratutious violence and holds many outdated and offensive views.
I needed a man's umbrella. One in no more than two colours, and ideally one solid colour, which should be either white, black or navy blue. If there had to be some sort of emblem or picture on such an umbrella it should be something like a skull and crossbone or a lion punching a rhino.
Polka dots were a long way from brawling beasts and turquoise is several shades adrift from trusty, masculine navy blue.
So quite mortified with my appearance I began the walk to work; hunched under my garish, girls umbrella, not daring to look at passers by in the eye. Until I saw him. A young boy of no more than 8 years old.
He was stood outside a shop eating chocolate and holding an umbrella above his head. A Spiderman umbrella. Spiderman is a hero. In fact, he us a "super" hero and not afraid to use violence to resolve problems. A Spiderman umbrella whilst slightly childish was infinitely more acceptable for a man of my standing than the one I had now.
I could mug that boy.
I could walk up and make him take my umbrella in exchange for his. He might put up a fight, they learn Taekwondo here...but...I fancied my chances. He looked up and our eyes met. He couldn't be more than 4ft 1" tall, I could definitely take him.
Then he turned to the sound of a womans voice and I cursed under my breath. His mother had come out of the shop and was with him. She looked up at the rain and took out her umbrella. She opened it. It was navy blue. A single solid navy throughout its manly frame.
She looked up and our eyes met. She couldn't be more than 5ft 2", I could definitely....NO.
I dragged myself away and scurried to work under my parasol of shame and immediately switched it for a blue and white one I found in our staff kitchen.
But never again will I make such a mistake, although if this had never happened I would never have discovered the video of a narcoleptic baby that doesn't have narcoplepsy. A video which you are all no doubt watching right now.
So you owe me one.
I wasn't. But the first link sounded extremely promising. It was apparently a video of a "Happy Narcoleptic Baby". Narcolepsy is always good for a laugh and babies have their moments so this sounded exactly the sort of thing I needed on a Wednesday. I clicked on the link and scrolled down to read the following information above the video...
"Don't worry, this adorable Korean baby doesn't really have narcolepsy".
Well that was a fucking anticlimax.
I wasn't worried, I was looking forward to it you deceitful bastard. In fact the only reason I clicked your link was to see a baby with narcolepsy who had maintained a positive disposition and outlook on life. Now I was faced with a video of a baby who was just "very tired" and who "keeps waking up, smiling..." ahhh shut up.
All babies are very tired and they all wake up too. I should have known this video would be a con. Babies are some of the laziest people on the planet so you could never diagnose narcolepsy in the little, stunted, workshy layabouts.
I have digressed slightly and you may wonder why I was including Korean newborns in this title to begin with, and I can assure you it was not simply to have a go at infants.
Upon my return to work I was informed that one of the Korean teachers had just had his first child. His wife had given birth the day before and we were given a card to sign and then asked to put in some money for a gift but to just "give whatever you would like".
Hmmmm. That might not work. If I were to give whatever I would like, I would give you absolutely nothing. In fact, if this baby has a savings account set up for him or her, I wouldn't mind borrowing from it to be honest. Provided whatever I borrow doesn't ever have to be paid back.
Some donations seemed very generous. Too generous to go towards someone who will be happy playing with a piece of wool for the next 12 months and then get immense joy from cardboard boxes for at least a couple of years after that.
But I have a reputation as a generous and thoughtful man to maintain so I wrote a heartfelt message and threw in a bundle of notes. After our meeting we clapped the new father into the room and were then shown a video from the hospital. For one ghastly moment I thought it might be a Korean tradition to share videos of the birth with co workers, but thankfully it was just a nurse holding up the baby after it had been cleaned and wrapped in a blanket.
And this is where Korea or perhaps just this one hospital takes things too far. The wrapping up. Because the blanket was wrapped in a tight square around the baby which meant it just looked like a small pillow with a human head attached. A cute little head belonging to a baby, but the body was just a pillow. No arms or legs could be seen. Not even the shape.
Which means that either his child had no limbs and he was delighted with this outcome or Korean hospitals wrap up babies like little pillows and just leave their heads poking out. I decided the second possibility was more likely. Why do they do that?
I didn't want to raise the question at that moment as everyone was cooing and clapping and shaking his hand, so to shout out "Hold on, excuse me, why have they wrapped your daughter up like a pillow? It looks like she doesn't have limbs" might dampen the atmosphere some what.
So I still don't know. If you are Korean and read this, please leave a message and tell me if this is the norm.
So to umbrellas. I tried to think of a clever link there, but umbrellas and babies just don't go together I'm afraid.
The problem I had was that it had not rained since I returned and I had no reason to believe it would. Rainy season is over and the weather has been great. So I have not concerned myself with getting an umbrella, and I was happy with this arrangement.
Until I woke up to hear the rain. Pouring rain. The type of rain that would make you quite wet indeed if you were to say walk a ten minute trip to work in it without so much as an umbrella for protection.
I began to ring co workers in my apartment block. No answer. They were probably outside with their umbrellas talking about how terrible it would be to be a person without one in this sort of weather. They were talking about me. I should resign...no, no, too drastic. I should just try and find an umbrella or accept going to work like a drowned rat.
My new apartment was previously lived in by a girl who I used to work with. She had very kindly emailed me about leaving useful things behind if I wanted them, and I had been lucky enough to get a fair bit of food, cleaning products and an iron etc. She had not mentioned an umbrella but she was the sort of person who might well have owned one. The more I thought about it, the more I seemed to remember her always being dry even during rainy weather.
I began to open every cupboard and draw in the place. Seeing as I live in a shoebox apartment that was not quite the epic search you might have envisaged, and in the last cupboard I opened....triumph. An umbrella!
Oh but the triumph was short lived. Because of course this was a girls old apartment. This umbrella had a brightly coloured handle, and huge turquoise polka dots all over it. It was a quite incredibly feminine umbrella. I am a man. A man who likes rare steak, films with gratutious violence and holds many outdated and offensive views.
I needed a man's umbrella. One in no more than two colours, and ideally one solid colour, which should be either white, black or navy blue. If there had to be some sort of emblem or picture on such an umbrella it should be something like a skull and crossbone or a lion punching a rhino.
Polka dots were a long way from brawling beasts and turquoise is several shades adrift from trusty, masculine navy blue.
So quite mortified with my appearance I began the walk to work; hunched under my garish, girls umbrella, not daring to look at passers by in the eye. Until I saw him. A young boy of no more than 8 years old.
He was stood outside a shop eating chocolate and holding an umbrella above his head. A Spiderman umbrella. Spiderman is a hero. In fact, he us a "super" hero and not afraid to use violence to resolve problems. A Spiderman umbrella whilst slightly childish was infinitely more acceptable for a man of my standing than the one I had now.
I could mug that boy.
I could walk up and make him take my umbrella in exchange for his. He might put up a fight, they learn Taekwondo here...but...I fancied my chances. He looked up and our eyes met. He couldn't be more than 4ft 1" tall, I could definitely take him.
Then he turned to the sound of a womans voice and I cursed under my breath. His mother had come out of the shop and was with him. She looked up at the rain and took out her umbrella. She opened it. It was navy blue. A single solid navy throughout its manly frame.
She looked up and our eyes met. She couldn't be more than 5ft 2", I could definitely....NO.
I dragged myself away and scurried to work under my parasol of shame and immediately switched it for a blue and white one I found in our staff kitchen.
But never again will I make such a mistake, although if this had never happened I would never have discovered the video of a narcoleptic baby that doesn't have narcoplepsy. A video which you are all no doubt watching right now.
So you owe me one.
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
To England and Back.
So here I am. Where is here you ask? A good question. In Korea. That puts an end to your pestering questions but it doesn't tell the full story. The full story is astonishingly dull, so I'll give you just a vague outline. I finished travelling with Little Spoon and I returned to England. Little Spoon returned to LA, my friends Chocolate Orange and Chess Champ went to travel the world and Rude Boy Yatesy moved to Seoul.
Then I came back to Korea after 3 months of doing nothing but entertain my family and friends with witty anecdotes about life in Korea and how cheap beer is in comparison to cheese. The hours must have flown by for my nearest and dearest who cheered in the streets upon my arrival in England and wailed and beat the ground upon my departure.
So what high jinks did I get up to over the summer months in glorious England? Very little. I embarked upon a new fitness regime that involved jumping across a rug in my living room and doing press ups on a kitchen chair. That lasted two weeks, which is two weeks better than not embarking on any fitness regime at all.
Other than that, I went to a friends wedding in Poland, gave a brilliant, erudite best man's speech, then got so pathetically inebriated that I almost knocked a giant speaker onto the brides sister. It would have killed her instantly had it fallen, and generally put a sour note to the days events.
Thankfully I was escorted out by embarrassed friends and the brides sister is alive to this day.
So that was England. Oh and Poland. It was early September that I returned to Korea, to the same school as before, for a nice pay rise but without many of the people who had made last year such fun. I still had good friends, but those that had left, had left Daegu for good and so it was with some sorrow that I waited to board my flight. I was to fly to Dubai, where I would change on to another flight that would whisk me to Korea, a long and stressful journey at the best of times.
So you can imagine my mood taking a turn for the worse when an official announcement rang out...
"Ladies and Gentleman there will be a slight delay to boarding, because we have several passengers in wheelchairs who need some assistance and will be given priority for boarding."
WHAT? I spun around and sure enough, there they were. The several passengers in wheelchairs who needed some assistance. Only there were not several, there was at least twenty of them and they all had matching tracksuits. They appeared to be some sort of sports team. Since when do sports teams "need assistance"? I walked over to have a closer look, and my anger began to rise.
They all had legs. All of them. Not only that, but full, strong looking legs in tracksuits no less. There was not a withered leg amongst them and they were smiling. I wasn't smiling, but then again I wasn't getting priority boarding with assistance whilst relaxing in a snazzy tracksuit was I?
As they wheeled away I fought to control my fury. If I walk onto this plane and find that they are in first class, someone else is going to be in a wheelchair by the end of this flight. As I began to walk towards the plane I became convinced they would be swanning about in first class, drinking champagne and laughing at the able bodied.
Surely I was not the only one annoyed by this discrimination? I looked about and everyone else seemed cheerful and calm. Where were the obnoxious and the arrogant? This flight was going to Dubai for Gods Sake. Surely it couldn't be hard to find someone vile on here, afterall 99% of people who holiday there are repugnant scum aren't they? I should be in my element.
Nothing. Just smiles and laughter. Probably looking forward to making fun of some Arab custom or spending their loose change on a sex slave from the third world whose been shipped into one of the 14 Star Hotels. Heartless Bastards.
Ah YES...no wheelchairs in First Class. In your face wheelchair team, get back into economy with the rest of us. It's not like you need the leg room anyway. Arrogant swines, I bet they tried to demand first class; with their new tracksuits and...I dropped my hand luggage. A friendly man in a wheelchair picked it up and handed it to me.
I thanked him and contemplated saying what a disgrace it was that his team hadn't been given First Class when it was not even full. But he might think that patronising and I wouldn't want anyone to get the idea that I was ignorant.
There were no more incidents of note on my journey and I arrived in Seoul to go and visit Rudeboy Yatesy for a few days of merriment, before I headed back down to Daegu to meet some new teachers, and to embark upon another year of pretending to be a teacher.
If you have missed the internets most asinine stories, then rejoice, I will be back once a week. If you were glad to see the back of them, then I hope you stub your toe whilst walking down a busy street. Until next time...
Then I came back to Korea after 3 months of doing nothing but entertain my family and friends with witty anecdotes about life in Korea and how cheap beer is in comparison to cheese. The hours must have flown by for my nearest and dearest who cheered in the streets upon my arrival in England and wailed and beat the ground upon my departure.
So what high jinks did I get up to over the summer months in glorious England? Very little. I embarked upon a new fitness regime that involved jumping across a rug in my living room and doing press ups on a kitchen chair. That lasted two weeks, which is two weeks better than not embarking on any fitness regime at all.
Other than that, I went to a friends wedding in Poland, gave a brilliant, erudite best man's speech, then got so pathetically inebriated that I almost knocked a giant speaker onto the brides sister. It would have killed her instantly had it fallen, and generally put a sour note to the days events.
Thankfully I was escorted out by embarrassed friends and the brides sister is alive to this day.
So that was England. Oh and Poland. It was early September that I returned to Korea, to the same school as before, for a nice pay rise but without many of the people who had made last year such fun. I still had good friends, but those that had left, had left Daegu for good and so it was with some sorrow that I waited to board my flight. I was to fly to Dubai, where I would change on to another flight that would whisk me to Korea, a long and stressful journey at the best of times.
So you can imagine my mood taking a turn for the worse when an official announcement rang out...
"Ladies and Gentleman there will be a slight delay to boarding, because we have several passengers in wheelchairs who need some assistance and will be given priority for boarding."
WHAT? I spun around and sure enough, there they were. The several passengers in wheelchairs who needed some assistance. Only there were not several, there was at least twenty of them and they all had matching tracksuits. They appeared to be some sort of sports team. Since when do sports teams "need assistance"? I walked over to have a closer look, and my anger began to rise.
They all had legs. All of them. Not only that, but full, strong looking legs in tracksuits no less. There was not a withered leg amongst them and they were smiling. I wasn't smiling, but then again I wasn't getting priority boarding with assistance whilst relaxing in a snazzy tracksuit was I?
As they wheeled away I fought to control my fury. If I walk onto this plane and find that they are in first class, someone else is going to be in a wheelchair by the end of this flight. As I began to walk towards the plane I became convinced they would be swanning about in first class, drinking champagne and laughing at the able bodied.
Surely I was not the only one annoyed by this discrimination? I looked about and everyone else seemed cheerful and calm. Where were the obnoxious and the arrogant? This flight was going to Dubai for Gods Sake. Surely it couldn't be hard to find someone vile on here, afterall 99% of people who holiday there are repugnant scum aren't they? I should be in my element.
Nothing. Just smiles and laughter. Probably looking forward to making fun of some Arab custom or spending their loose change on a sex slave from the third world whose been shipped into one of the 14 Star Hotels. Heartless Bastards.
Ah YES...no wheelchairs in First Class. In your face wheelchair team, get back into economy with the rest of us. It's not like you need the leg room anyway. Arrogant swines, I bet they tried to demand first class; with their new tracksuits and...I dropped my hand luggage. A friendly man in a wheelchair picked it up and handed it to me.
I thanked him and contemplated saying what a disgrace it was that his team hadn't been given First Class when it was not even full. But he might think that patronising and I wouldn't want anyone to get the idea that I was ignorant.
There were no more incidents of note on my journey and I arrived in Seoul to go and visit Rudeboy Yatesy for a few days of merriment, before I headed back down to Daegu to meet some new teachers, and to embark upon another year of pretending to be a teacher.
If you have missed the internets most asinine stories, then rejoice, I will be back once a week. If you were glad to see the back of them, then I hope you stub your toe whilst walking down a busy street. Until next time...
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