Seoul Coughing

A traditional Asian treatment for an inbalance in the body’s systems. The cups are attached to the body using heat and draw blood to the surface. This causes bruising, but some claim it also heals everything from a cold to cancer. Carolyn only had a little upper-back pain.

After getting by on my looks for the last four years I’ve been coming and going to and from Korea my lack of language skills has reached up and bit me in the ass.

It all started last Tuesday…

I had come home from work on a hot first day of August and wanted to update my iPod and have a nice cold drink. All the while being cooled off by the air conditioner. Everything was going as planned when suddenly there was a POP in the other room followed by silence.

My electricity had gone off. Shit.

I found the fuse box (or whatever they call it here) and tried to see the switches, but it was too dark. I reached in and felt around and found three switches, all in the up position. I lit a candle and looked at them and could see they were on.

Time to get help.

The landlady was out, the owner of the convenience store was on vacation, as was the owner of the Chinese restaurant who happens to speak a little bit of English.

So I called Cal in Australia and asked her where the real estate office was. I got there just in time to find the one person there who DOESN’T speak English. Cal talked to her and she came over and then found someone to come up and show me that there was a fourth switch. He turned it on and it seemed like that was that.

But it wasn’t.

Ten minutes after he left it popped again. The air conditioning was overpowering it. Or maybe it was the computer. But if I had to choose which one I would use it would be the air con. So I flipped the switch, waited a minute, then turned on the air con.

Did I mention the burning smell? Yeah. Like an electrical fire.

This time it took only 5 minutes for the power to shut off.

On Wednesday I went back by, but they were closed. I tried my landlady again, but she still wasn’t home (or wasn’t answering). I had to tough it out for the night.

I awoke at 3 in the morning and was halucinating. I was sweating and there were traffic noises outside and I wondered aloud how I got to Calcutta. “I’ve never been to India. What am I doing here?” I found the fridge and grabbed some water and then flipped the switch to turn the power back on. Great. Now it’s dying for no reason.

Thursday I wrote a letter explaining in detail what was wrong. I gave this letter to one of the translators/reporters I work with at Yonhap News Service in Seoul. She translated it in a few minutes and printed it out for me. Great. My problems are solved.

Not so fast.

I took the note to the real estate agent and found the guy who speaks English there. He said the note explained everything and he would take care of it. But nobody came by that night.

Friday came and went with no results.

That night I dreamed of Thailand, but not the good parts. I dreamed I was in prison there and couldn’t get anyone to listen to me. Nobody spoke any English and weren’t even interested in hearing me.

On Saturday I called the realtor from my office. He said they sent someone over in the morning, but the key wasn’t with the convenience store lady, so the guy left. Over the next 10 minutes I explained to this guy that the key was currently in the washing machine out back and the electrician could go back and try again.

“No. Take key to convenience store,” he said.

“I am at work now and the key is in the washing machine. It’s very easy to understand.”

“It would be best if you take key to convenience store.”

“I am at work. I can’t leave work to move the key 100 feet so an electrician doesn’t have to lift the lid of the washing machine.”

“Key is in washing machine?” he asked, sounding very surprised by this sudden revelation. “O.K. I tell landlady.”

When I got home Saturday evening the owner of the Chinese restaurant was trimming the potted tomato plants outside and told me that “the man come to fix air con, but no key.”

The air con? What is wrong with my air con?

When I called the realtor he told me the same thing. The landlady had called a specialist to fix the air con.

I spent the next 10 minutes explaining how the air con was a side effect of the problem, and not the problem itself. There wasn’t enough power to run more than one large appliance at a time in my apartment. Before Tuesday I could have my fridge, air con, washing machine, computer, and a small fan on the floor running simultaneously. Maybe it sounds wasteful, but it worked at the time.

“Oh! So you have problem running air con?” he asked.

“Yes. When I turn it on, all of the power goes out.”

“So we fix air con.”

“NO! Fix power. Fix electricity.”

“What about washing machine?”

“It also causes the power to go out, unless I unplug the fridge.”

And so on. Eventually he got the picture and said he would make one last call to the landlady. He told me that it wasn’t his responsibility and he wasn’t going to deal with it after this. I thanked him and hung up.

This morning I left the key in the washing machine and left the lid open, in case the electrician is an idiot. I also left the original note taped to the fuse box with the number “10” (for 10 minutes and then the power goes out) crossed out and “2” written below. Let’s hope the translation is what I want it to say.

It was 92 degrees F or 34 C in my apartment last night. Outside it was around 27 or so. My roof is made from a giant concrete slab that absorbs the heat. With the windows open I get a little respite, but not much. I also get mosquitoes.

I got home and the power was off. I flipped the switch and it went on, so I tried to run my air conditioning. The power popped. So did I.

I have seen it in Korea a million times: someone losing their shit and getting what they want. I had a letter translated by my editor at work and went to give it to my landlady. She wasn’t there, so I gave it to the owner of the Chinese restaurant next door. He got right on it.

Maybe it was the cursing. Maybe it was when I banged on the door of her empty apartment and screamed at the top of my lungs.

Whatever it was, it got action. A few hours later the electrician showed me the new circuit breaker and showed me the old one, which smelled like an old set of brakes on a tractor trailer. There were also burned up wires that were apparently touching and shorting out the power.

In the end I got my computer and air con on, popped open a can of OB and updated my iPod. But Cal and I are definitely getting out of this ghetto-ass apartment.

T

1. Psychiatric exams for bus and taxi drivers
Force ALL taxi and bus drivers throughout the country to submit to rigorous psychiatric exams and personality tests. The results will surprise no one. From these results, determine the acceptable level of psychosis among these people, based on the availability of sane replacement drivers, etc.

2. Ban smoking
Start in the PC bangs (internet cafes) to protect the children then move on to office buildings and eventually to bars and restaurants and finally to public parks and outdoor gathering places. The government has in the past pushed people toward brushing their teeth and eating more dog stew through propaganda campaigns foisted upon the media. They can start telling people that smoking is disgusting and they will all die from it and show famous people not smoking. Peer pressure works in this country. If you want to be considered a first-world country, then follow the lead of the rest of the first world.

3. Get the motorcycles and scooters off the sidewalks
If a deliveryman can’t walk from the curb to the building, then maybe he should get a job as a dispatcher instead. It’s already illegal, so it shouldn’t be so hard to prevent this dangerous and stupid practice.

4. Eliminate Konglish
Hire native-English-speaking government editors whose job it is to walk around the city and force people to correct their English translations on signs, placards or menus or to remove them altogether. Konglish is not English and it is not endearing or cute. It should be seen as an embarrassment.

5. Enforce intellectual property laws
There too many people selling illegal DVDs and fake brand-name products in Seoul. I have not been to China, but on a per-capita basis, Korea must surely compete with the Chinese level of IP theft.

6. Fine people for littering
Police should force people to not only pick up the trash they were seen disposing of improperly, but they should also issue a citation and an on-the-spot fine. If they can’t pay, they are then taken by the paddy wagon to the recycling center to sort recyclables for a few hours.

7. Trash bins at regular intervals
In line with the above suggestion, place public trash receptacles on street corners or near bus stops to discourage people from throwing their cigarette wrappers and ice cream wrappers where they stand. There are a few bins in Korea, which are always overflowing. The fear, I suppose, is that people would take their household trash to the corner can and avoid spending 300 won (about US 31 cents) on a bag of their own.

8. One-way streets
Let’s face it. When they laid out Seoul and many other Korean cities they didn’t think that someday everyone would own a car. Most streets are too narrow for the fruit carts, passing cars and pedestrians. If one-way streets are designated — and it won’t be easy — there will be fewer of the standoffs between drivers coming from opposite directions on narrow streets in which one is forced to back up to an appropriate point to allow the other to pass.

9. Put your damned shoes ALL THE WAY ON YOUR DAMNED FEET!
Another campaign should be started to encourage people to wear their shoes completely on their feet. If there are straps on your shoes, you must have them on and not flapping behind you. People should also not be allowed to walk around on the crushed backs of their shoes. This makes these people appear lazy and mentally retarded (though the few retarded people I’ve seen here have had their shoes on completely).

10. Enforce animal rights laws
And if they don’t exist, copy the laws of the U.S., Australia or Great Britain when setting them up. If I see one more large-sized dog tied up with only three feet of chain I am going to break the owner’s nose and take the dog away. And stop beating them in public. Another infraction that will result in a physical attack by me. And no more dyeing the dogs’ tails or ears. In fact, make it illegal for people to own dogs in Seoul and many of the other big cities in Korea. There isn’t enough room for a dog to have a good life here.

With all that said, I must add that I’m having a great time here. Being in a city of 8 or 10 million brings people that much closer to one another and brings the bad things out in the open. If the above items are all I have to complain about anymore then I must be starting to love this place.

Peace on the peninsula.

Tracey

Today I had some time to kill and made my way to COEX, a giant mall in southern Seoul where there is an Apple Computer store.

It is aptly named “The Apple Experience.”

Here’s my Apple experience.

When I walked in the spacious, brightly lit, distinctly Apple-esque store I asked the guy at the front counter if he spoke English and if he could answer some questions about my iPod. He told me no, and pointed me to the Help Desk around the corner.

I walked over and sat in the small waiting area along with a few other people — all with their iPods. Each of the others were called up and taken care of in a few moments. I suppose they may have been simply asking how a function on the iPod worked.

When it was my turn I walked up carefully, almost tentatively. I worried the Apple-certified help guy wouldn’t understand English. And if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be surprised or upset by it. But as I approached, Mr. Ko, as his name tag read, said “How may I help you?”

Whew, I thought. Relief.

“First I want to tell you I love my iPod,” I said as a preface, assuming he would take my complaints personally. I guess because I was about to unload on him my three problems with the sexy little gadget I wanted to make sure he knew I wasn’t completely unsatisfied.

“But…” I began. “The battery dies after only three hours, the memory claims to be 30 gigabytes, but is only 27.8 gigabytes, and the screen is all scratched up after only two weeks.” This was all said in my “Native-English-speaker-talking-to-a-Korean-with-a-minimal-working-understanding-of-English-and-a-need-for-slow-and-ennunciated-speech” tone.

He asked me what format it was and then hooked it up to the Windows-based laptop in front of him and ran some diagnostics. I made small talk and told him I would buy a Mac in six months or so and then change the format to Mac and reload my music. He nodded at this and then told me the tests had shown that my sleek, black media player was healthy.

Without asking me, he then hooked up my iPod to the Mac laptop and ran what I thought was some other test. When he was done he handed it to me and said, “There, now it is formatted for your new Mac.”

“WHAT? Are you kidding? Why did you do that?” I screeched.

“You say you have new Mac,” he replied defensively.

“I said I WANT a new Mac, but not yet.”

“Oh,” he said and paused for a minute while his error sunk in. “I am sorry. I will change it back.”

“Thank you,” I replied, relieved he was going to fix his error.

“But,” he added. “You will have to reload all of your music again. It has been erased.”

All I could do was laugh. I had come in to buy a protective rubberized case for my iPod and ask a few questions about the machine and was leaving — so far — with an empty iPod which I wouldn’t get to enjoy on my one-hour commute back to Hongdae.

But my Apple Experience didn’t end there.

I found the case I wanted and saw that it cost 35,200 won. So I left the store and found an ATM to get a little money and go back.

When I placed the case on the counter, the guy scanned it and smiled at me. He was the same guy who didn’t speak English earlier and decided it wouldn’t be worth trying any Korean on me. What he didn’t know was that money was the only Korean I was fluent in. You really can’t survive if you don’t understand how many won something costs.

The screen for the cash register wasn’t facing me so I handed him four 10,000 won notes. He opend the drawer and gave me back 200 won. I was owed 4,200. When I aksed him where the rest of my money was, he showed me the receipt for 29,800 won.

Shit. How will I explain this?

“I gave you sa man won,” I said. (40,000 won)

“Ne. Sam man won,” he replied. (Yes. 30,000 won)

“Anio. SA man won. (No. 40,000 won) The price there says Sam man o chun ee bek won (35,200 won),” I said and pointed at the sign on the shelf. “So I give you SA MAN WON.”

At this point a young girl who worked there and spoke some English came up and asked what the problem was. There was no anger between us, only confusion. I already had a blank iPod, why would getting ripped off $10 bother me now?

I showed her the receipt for the case and explained that I had gotten 70,000 won out of the bank and only had 30,000 left and showed her that receipt and the money as well. She nodded sympathetically and touched the screen on the cash register and brought something up.

Then the guy says in English, “I must count money. Please wait.” He then proceeded to run all the bills through a counting machine and add it up on a calculator — twice.

The count came out in my favor. He handed me 10,000 won and said he was sorry.

I accepted his apology and asked the girl to hand me the case I had just purchased so I could go. She told me they had made an error and re-rung it. Then she asked me for 35,200 won!

“You already have 29,800 won,” I said, exasperated by now. She shook her head and gave me that dismissive wave Koreans give when they think someone is wrong.

So I did what Koreans do to me when I don’t understand their provincial accents or their mouths stuffed with food: I took the calculator and typed in 40,000, subtracted 35,200, and handed them 5,000 won. The girl smiled and took my money and gave me another small pile of coins in return.

And as I walked out the door the man called out to me his favorite phrase in English:

“Have a nice day.”

From The Korea Herald, April 5, 2006

CHEAP EATS
Choi’s Tacos: Muy bien!

 By Tracey Stark

It’s 8 p.m. and the place is packed. There’s a line forming outside the takeaway window, the smell of seasoned beef and chicken is wafting through the air and everybody is smiling. Especially Thomas Choi.

He has good reason to smile inside his 11-seat Shinchon restaurant. It’s busy and it isn’t because of bulgogi or dalk galbi. It’s Mexican food he sells; food he learned to cook from a chef in Los Angeles and then later in Mexico City.

“Many Koreans don’t know about Mexican food or about our menu,” Choi says. “But when they see the ingredients and see me cooking, their eyes get big. Whoa!”

He said he chose Mexican food because it’s different, yet it’s spicy enough to attract Koreans. The shop is often packed with foreigners craving a little something different as well as younger Koreans.

On this night two well-dressed elderly American couples sat along the far wall under the wooden cutout of Mexico covered with Post-it notes from adoring customers. When they left they praised Choi’s cooking and suggested he might even make a good Mexican.

He laughs and moves on to the next four people who immediately fill the empty seats.

I was attempting to go vegetarian for a time and see if I could lose some of my gut. But when he asked if I would have the usual, I couldn’t resist. Especially when one of the other cooks was sauteing steak in front of me in Choi’s special recipe marinade.

The beef burrito (3,300-4,800 won), medium (there is also a super burrito, which is not for the timid) and the cheese quesadilla (2,500-4,000 won) came hot and fast. Weighing in at close to a pound, I dove in to the burrito with closed eyes and an over-active salivary gland. The taste of refried beans, shredded cheese, seasoned rice, and marinated beef made it the most satisfying event of my week. For variety I got a side of guacamole (700 won).

The quesadillas come in two sizes and can be a meal on their own if you get the larger-sized beef or chicken variety. After I finished my meal I ordered another quesadilla and promised myself a trip to the gym the next day.

Other items include tacos, fajitas, nachos and soft drinks.

Partway through my meal Choi excused himself to go eat dinner – Korean food.

“I had Mexican for lunch,” he said and rubbed his ample belly.

Sometime in the near future Choi plans to host an event such as a taco eating contest.

I will admit that all this cheese and sour cream can’t be too good for you. So I suggest going no more than four or five times a week.

To get there:
From Shinchon subway station, exit and follow the signs to Yonsei University. Take the smallest of the five roads that meet at Shinchon rotary. Turn right at the first street (opposite Sybarra Records) and walk down the right side about 100 meters.

A chain of news stands all over Seoul.