Tor and Becky

We landed in Korea nine months ago with the assurance that our friends Tor and Becky would be following only a few weeks later. This knowledge served as our safety net. Every time Sami and I would get frustrated with each other or our situation, we would tell ourselves "Tor and Becky will be here soon." There were many times where we felt isolated and misunderstood, locked in an unfamiliar culture. "Tor and Becky will be here soon," we'd rationalize.

The weeks turned to months and our first semester of teaching eventually passed. Tor and Becky were still waiting for their placements back in Oregon. Meanwhile, we had met a few new friends, learned a few more phrases, visited historical landmarks, cities, festivals and fortresses all over Korea, and gradually became comfortable in our new home.

We had heard rumors that the Korean government had become more selective with who they decide to hire as English teachers- educators back in the U.S. who had lost their jobs due to budget cuts were increasingly looking for work overseas. Likewise, with fewer teaching jobs at home, an influx recent grad students opted to head our way with their newly minted teaching degrees.

The fact that Tor and Becky were married and looking at coming after the semester had started only hurt their chances. Not only did they need to be placed at a time when most schools' ESL needs were currently being met- they had to find two with openings that were also in close proximity to each other.

We first thought that Tor and Becky would be placed in a small town to the east of us. This would have been in a rural area that would present a new set of challenges (small town means few English speakers and even more who have never even seen a foreigner), but would likely mean a rural living stipend. When that didn't work out, they dropped their recruitment agency and went looking for work in a different province. Their next plan was to live and work in Busan- the second biggest city in Korea, located on the coast in the southeast part of the country. Busan is a 4-5 hour bus ride from where Sami and I live in Guri, just east of Seoul. When that fell through, we began to lose hope.

A month into the new school year, we received word that they had been placed in Hwaseong- south of Seoul and about an hour and a half subway ride from Guri. After months and months of waiting and worrying, they were instructed to buy plane tickets (which would be reimbursed) and be in Korea in two weeks. The recruiter then called back and said better make it 10 days.

They flew the 12 hours to Korea (probably more like 15 with the transfer in Vancouver), were driven two hours from the airport to dirty temporary housing, taken out to dinner at 10:00 p.m. at night, and told to be at school to teach the very next morning. They couldn't have been happier.

During their first weekend here, they came to stay at our (relatively) luxurious apartment in Guri. We swapped stories of our first we confused days, took them to our favorite mandu (Korean dumpling) restaurant, and introduced them to a few of our friends in town. More than anything, I think that they were happy to get a hot shower- something that lacked in their temporary living quarters.

As soon as they settled into their new place, they invited us out to Hwaseong. They wanted to show us around their new neighborhood and attend the Lotus Latern Festival in in celebration of Buddha's birthday the next day.

Sami and I had actually visited Hwaseong Fortress, a World Heritage site, back in the fall and spent a whole day walking its length. The part of town Becky and Tor live in, however, is a whole lot different. We had to look down and skillfully navigate through scattered garbage and piles of puke. Much of the trash was discarded promotional fliers for personal escorts and sex clubs. The people might not be quite as accommodating to foreigners- Tor relayed a story about how he was kicked out of a convenience store for speaking in English with an American he just met.

Despite the relatively seedy first impression, Tor and Becky's neighborhood has a campy feel, and is attempting to cater to the younger crowd. There is a batting cage and a basketball hoop nearby, along with a court that is used for some sport that to me seems like a cross between soccer and volleyball, only the net is low like in tennis. I really should learn what this sport is because I think that there is a similar court near where we live in Guri. There is no shortage of excitement or things to do there. Sometimes, the fun even comes to you, like the time a drunken Korean man wearing one shoe arrived at their doorstep at six in the morning pleading to be let inside "Please! So sleepy! So sleepy!" he begged.

We spent the first hour or so at Tor and Becky's apartment swapping recent stories, drinking beer and soju mixed with juice. Later, they took us to Mr. Kim's, their favorite Korean BBQ place. They ate at Mr. Kim's their first night in Korea, and the owner and namesake became a fast friend with his affectionately uncouth use of the English language. The first and only thing he had ever said was "sex machine!" while slapping his wife on the behind.

On the way to the restaurant Tor and I stopped by the batting cages. The cost was 500 wan (about 40 cents) for 15 pitches. Despite my increasing buzz, I was able to make solid contact with the last couple of pitches. Not bad, for not swinging a bat in about 2 years. Although, I was only in the 80 km/hr cage.

We had several celebratory shots of soju with our delicious BBQ. When we thought we had had enough, Mr. Kim showed up, sat down with us and poured more. By this time my ears were feeling quite fuzzy. On the way back we stopped at the batting cages again. Apparently, in my now drunken state, I felt the need to move up to the 120 km/hr cage. I couldn't even see the first three pitches, so I decide to just swing when I heard the sound of the Juggz machine snapping the ball forward. This actually worked a few times, but the dizzying speed of the ball and the ferocity of my swing only intensified the affect the cheap alcohol already had on me.

 When they take a shot in Korea, they turn their heads and say "one shot!"

After dinner we went back to Tor and Becky's for some more beer, soju, and one of our favorite games: Apples to Apples. If you are not familiar, I am sorry but I refuse to explain (computer froze and I lost a huge chunk of what I had written GGGRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!). Let's just save time and say that as we played (and the more I drank), I became more and more animated and intense. I had so much pent up energy and aggression that there really was only one acceptable outlet- the nore bang.

A nore bang (pronounced kind of like 'no-ray bong') is a private karaoke room that you can rent so only your closest chosen friends can see and hear you make an ass out of yourself. You cannot walk one block in Korea without passing by a nore bang. Alcohol is illegal is technically off limits in a nore bang, but that doesn't stop owners from selling it at a ridiculously high mark up. Tor walked in cradling eight beers.

Inside, there is a screen with the lyrics along the bottom of a picture that has nothing to do with your song. Usually it is of safari animals, a beach scene, or scenes from a popular Korean drama. There are two microphones, one of which always echos purposefully, and at least two tambourines so you have something to do while waiting for your turn.

Normally, I abhor singing in public and do everything I can to avoid it like a passing Korean avoids eye contact. However, when you are wasted in this country, this is where you inevitably end up. I am not proud of it. A recap, in images:

 Wait for the solo...

M

Most likely an ABBA song. Na na na na na na. Na na na na na S.O.S. Ba ba ba ba ba ba. Ba ba ba ba ba S.O.S.

N

Now I ain't sayin she's a gold digga' (one tambourine just isn't enough)

W

What's worse? Singing Spice Girls or dancing the robot- hand-belly-rub to Spice Girls?

I

It's a beautiful life. Uh oh-oh-oh. I'm gonna be so hungov-er. It's a beautiful life. Uh- oh-oh-oh. 

I was in a flip off mood this night. Here is an evolution:

Phase 1: I am feeling happy. I am only going to give you the half flip off. Not mad. Just a warning. No pictures of me drunk please. My family reads this blog.

P

Phase 2: I told you no pics. 

Phase 3: Forget it, I'm out. Tor, I cannot keep up with you. I need fried cheese and soft serve ice cream in my belly stat.

When our time was up, we left and paid our bill which was about $40 U.S. Doesn't sound like much, but it was still double what dinner was. I'm telling you, the beers are not cheap at the nore bang. Before departing, I thought that it would be a good idea to stop off in one of the other rooms and crash a different singing party. Sami wisely kept me from doing so.

We stopped of a Lotteria on the way back. Lotteria is Korea's answer to Burger King and McDonald's. I thought one or two cheese sticks might help me avoid a hangover so I ordered six. I also ordered a soft serve ice cream cone. The next day I was baffled as to why I didn't order ice cream from Lotteria (after all, that is my favorite item) until Sami reminded me that I did. You see where this is going.

I went to bed that night with all of my clothes on (and even flipped Sami the bird when she suggested I remove my jacket- I was in rare form), woke up at 5:45 a.m. looked at my ghost white reflection in the bathroom mirror, took care of my business and went back to bed thinking that I was going to beat this. No dice.

I rolled out of bed at nine with a terrible soju hangover. Soju hangovers are notoriously bad. Maybe that is why it is so cheap, or vice versa. If you want to know what a soju hangover feels like, just spin around in a circle for an hour as fast as you can...and then go drink a bottle of soju. It is known for giving users a splitting headache and sour stomach. I spent a good hour keeled over on Tor and Becky's bathroom floor the next morning. I would do anything short of smelling a bottle of soju to make it stop.

After a good half dozen heaves, I decided that it would be a good idea to take a "puke walk." I took the cell phone Sami and I share in case I got lost. I turned the corner in the alleyway and against the side of the apartment building next door, shamefully did my thing.

It wasn't long before I was lost. I had found the batting cage, although it was a little different. The arcade games outside weren't in the same order I remembered. Turns out that it was a completely different batting cage. I called and had Tor come find me. While I was waiting I sat down right next to a man who was sawing a table with an electric saw. I couldn't tell the difference.

Somehow, I made a miraculous recovery before noon. I laid down, turned on the T.V., had three Advil, an Immodium, some ice water and a piece of toast. That mixed with a few Korean infomercials (Walking shoes with rounded heels are great exercise! This vibrating electro-band will give your fat ass six-pack abs!) must have done the trick.

The Lotus Lantern Festival the next day was a great experience, and would have been even better if we weren't so beat from the nore bang excitement from the night before. It also would have been even more enjoyable if about half the number of people decided to stay home.

The great part about the festival being so crowded was that it offered the opportunity to people watch, which is great, especially when there is a large number of foreigners (or as I affectionately call them, "whiteys").  The whiteys that come to Korea to teach are typically young, right out of college and "hippy" for lack of a better term. I saw one guy wearing shorts that went down mid-thigh, teva sandals, a severely v-necked t-shirt, sunglasses, a scarf and a fedora. I wondered what he was thinking in the morning (Hmm. I know it is going to be nice out today, but I don't want my neck to get cold...wait, like I have any room to talk. This morning I was thinking: Hmm. Maybe if I plug one nostril and push air out real hard through the other, this tickley chunk of puke will fly out).

Despite the large foreign presence, we still received the requisite number of stares. One eager teenager even asked to take a picture with him.

The Lotus Lantern Festival featured two stages of liver performances and all types of booths with Buddhist information from different countries. The nearby temple was decked out with brilliantly colored lanterns. It was quite a spectacle.

I got to hold this little marmot. I call it a chinchilla. Don't think that is what it is. Sounds like something you would order at Taco Bell.

Sami and I decided to leave before dark, and therefore missed the famous nightime parade. Tor and Becky stayed and got to experience the strength of short, old Korean women pushing to the front of lines firsthand. They cannot be stopped.

When we departed we made plans to go down to Busan for the upcoming three day weekend. We got on the subway happy to be leaving the mob scene of the festival, happy to be sober, and above all, happy to no longer have to say "Tor and Becky will be in Korea soon."