Muay Thai and Lady -Boys

As much as I envision myself plugged in to American culture and events, living abroad the past 21 months has undoubtedly hampered my ability to share in my home country's collective conscience. Sure, I know when the big things occur- killing bin Laden, the Ft. Hood shooting and Gabby Giffords for example- and I can probably even recite the weather forecasts from the Pacific Northwest further out than many current residents. But that doesn't mean that I can imagine the cold rain steadily dropping and soaking the front of a pair of khakis. I experienced terror and shame when I read of the senseless violence in a Tucson Safeway parking lot, but it felt a world away. Like reading from a novel. Even the reactions espoused from comparatively meaningless occurrences- the likes of which are obsessed over by my generation- are lost on me. I can't for the life of me understand why so many people hate LeBron James for taking less money to play for a contender, and I don't see even ironic humor in "The Jersey Shore."

When it comes to movies, I am downright pathetic. No, I have not seen Avatar. The last movie I saw in a theater before we left for Korea was The Hangover. Now the sequel is out and I recently learned that the plot of The Hangover II is set in Bangkok. While Bangkok has a reputation as a debauched city specializing in sexual deviancy, I can safely assure all friends and family out there that our experience in the Thai capitol was nothing like that of Zack Galifianakis or 'Nard Dog. In fact, the only real taste we got of that famous gender ambiguity was from our lady-boy hotel receptionist. He/she wasn't all that friendly, and the only thing that sticks out in my mind from our encounter was the confusing tickle of his/her fingernails scraping my palm as she dispensed the change from a root beer purchase.

We did, however, seek out something Bangkok is equally famous for- Muay Thai, the national sport of Thailand. Muay Thai is often referred to as Thai kickboxing and, although I am far from an expert, I would call that a fair comparison. The only difference that I see is that Muay Thai competitors are tiny, the heaviest fighters were under 120 lbs. or around 55 kg. Some were even under 100 lbs.

Our plan was to buy tickets at the door. We walked into the stadium and before we reached the ticket counter we were accosted by good looking young women who attempt to sell only to foreigners. Their job is to sell the ringside seats, and downplay the rest of the auditorium by making false claims such as it is standing room only or too far away to see. By an unusual act of persistence brought on by lack of funds, we were able to persevere past the hot hawkers and buy tickets at the counter for the cheap seats.

We arrived early to an empty stadium, but we could already see that we made a wise choice. Fat white people in shorts and sandals, and young MMA wannabes sat ringside in cushioned chairs while the true fans roamed our section taking and placing bets. There were ten fights on the card and with each match, more and more of the true fans came in. Eventually, we moved out of their way and peered through the chain link fence in a calmer section.

The stadium was over 30 years old and looked it. Seats were concrete slaps and the timer and scoreboard looked like something out of the movie Hoosiers. Before each fight, the competitors would perform a strange squatting dance ritual called Wai Khru Ram Muay, which is done to show respect for the opponent and the crowd , and also serves as a prayer to Buddha.

The fighting itself is fast and furious. The fighters perform strikes with their fists, elbows, knees and feet in addition to clinching and grappling techniques. We found that the first round or two would start out slow as each fighter attempted to figure the other one out, but by the end it was a free for all swinging frenzy. We never could figure out how the score was kept, and no one was ever knocked out. The gamblers in the crowd gasped and cheered at actions we couldn't figure out. They were quite partial to the kicks to the legs, while we looked forward to punches in the face. Soon we decided to make our own little game of guessing who the winner was at the end of the fight. I think we were right a little more than half of the time.

Afterward we went back to the hotel where I hoped to hop online and catch up on the news from the states. Remembering that our laptop was broken from the night before, I sat down with the lady-boy receptionist and talked Muay-Thai.

A Movie Makes Joe Think

We flew Qatar Airlines from Hanoi to Bangkok. Only a few dozen passengers sat scattered in plush, roomy seats on our red-eye flight. Anyone who chose to had an aisle to themselves. Sami and I sat across from each other in one and immediately set into thumbing our remote controls, scrolling through the impressive menu of movies, TV shows and games. I passed on old episodes of Mad Men and The Office in favor of The Social Network. Sami picked The Rescuers. I know. All those quality shows and she chooses a thirty year-old animated Disney feature about detectives who are mice. Her selection was met with little more than a halfhearted eye-roll from me though. I have grown accustomed to her head scratch inducing tastes.

It goes without saying that The Social Network was incredible and, if I can be honest, probably one of the highlights of my time in Southeast Asia (and this has more to do with the fact that living in Korea makes it a little more difficult to see new releases or semi-new releases in this case- unless it is in low quality on my small computer screen). However, I am not ashamed to admit that the movie left me pathetically envious of kids around my age who were able to become so successful so quickly. It wasn't the technical skill nor programming prowess I coveted- let's be honest, I have a hard enough time figuring out the buttons on the microwave, and if I did have the tiniest bit of computer knowledge, the first thing I would do would be to retrieve all of the old blog posts that didn't save (nothing frustrates me more!).

No, it was the way that these fellows were able to capitalize on something as simple as the way college students communicate with each other that really got me. I was in school during this same time period where technology was just minutes away from launching into an entirely new frontier. Yes, we all got cell phones our Freshman year, but no one used them to text. It was too slow, clunky and expensive. If we wanted to communicate without talking we used AOL Instant Messenger. Everyone had goofy screen names- I was JBoydstyle. It was much easier to talk to people- especially girls who were out of your league- by typing witticisms. How else do you think I was able to land a date with tigra1341 (aka my future wife Sami)?

Having a child on the way has made me evaluate the world I was born into and how it differs from what will be my daughters birth year. When I was a kid, the years my parents were born in seemed like a foreign country- Korea, Thailand or Vietnam, something out of reach to be seen only in the pages of books. Now that I have traveled and lived abroad, the world is smaller, and I've come to realize that 1960 and '61 were not that different than 1982. I believe an employee from Sterling-Cooper-Draper-Price could walk into an ad agency in 1982 and hold his own. Transport him into 2011 and he'd be so overwhelmed he'd drink himself to death.

On our first night in Bangkok, I stupidly left our laptop on the hotel room floor overnight. As I should have envisioned, Sami stepped on it during one of her frequent pee trips. The screen cracked and was rendered useless. We spent the rest of the trip unable to check our Facebook pages, which wasn't such a bad thing. The only person I really needed to talk to was the person who loves me even though I haven't come up with that great business idea. Someone who understands my fear of technology and how it will shape the future. Tigra1341.

Two Days in the Life

One Tuesday morning about a decade ago, I drove off for work in the white, 1988 Ford Bronco II I shared with my brother. My hair was still wet from my morning routine of cupping water from the sink onto my head. This worked much faster than actually showering and, because I worked at Lube Express, the benefits of a proper bathe would surely have become nullified minutes after the first customer gently rolled in anyway. I would lean in to check fluid levels and soft dirt would collect in a line on my issued polo. My hands and fingers were forever brown and encrusted black under the nails and my greasy skin stunk of burned oil.

I got in the rig, buckled the seat belt that was broken and hung too loose and released the emergency break- a safety feature rendered useless after repeated (and often successful) attempts at driving with it engaged. I searched for a song on the radio. Finding a song was incredibly important. My drive was really only about five minutes (in hindsight I don't know why I didn't just save gas and walk) and I seemed to leave right at the time half of the handful of stations available in my small town went to commercial break or blathered about the weather. The right song could make or break my drive. On this day though, there was only news. I seeked through all of the stations twice before catching the gist of the story. And it was all the same story. A commercial aircraft had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York City.

Today is May 2, 2011, and even if nothing significant happened on this day it would have been notable to me because it is my brother's 27th birthday. We no longer share a Bronco II. In fact, I haven't driven in about two years since I moved to Korea. Some days I still wet my hair down instead of shower (lay off me, I shower at the gym after work), but not today. This morning I woke up early for one of my thrice weekly sprints. So a shower was necessary.

I went to school earlier than usual to watch the NBA playoffs. The games had taken place earlier, but I had them recorded online. I watched the Miami-Boston game assuming that the east coast game had tipped off earlier. I like to do this to avoid any spoiler alerts. I was wrong. Memphis and Oklahoma City had played earlier in the day and of course I caught the announcers touting Memphis' win.

Nothing too eventful happened during class. My co-teacher was back this week after missing the last three work days due to her uncle's passing. It was nice not to be the only one to yell at the students for stealing each others' pencil cases. Why can't they keep their hands to themselves?

After our fourth period class before lunch I logged into my twitter account. My head spun as I began to notice that all the people I follow were talking about the same thing. I called my co-teacher over in disbelief and clicked over to cnn.com. The headline was bold and to the point: OSAMA BIN LADEN DEAD.

On 9/11 I went into work and the crew was in a state of disbelief I never could have imagined before that moment. Customers drove in and huddled next to to cheap boombox that carried out grim news and stern warnings from callers to those responsible. Today at lunch, minutes after I found out, I asked my vice principal if we could watch the breaking news, but the news wasn't on. The teachers at the table talked about it only after I brought it up and even then I wasn't able to understand what they were saying. After lunch I had one more class to teach and, understandably, the students had no clue as to the historical event that took place hours ago.

In the summer of 2001, I was at a crossroads. I had graduated from high school and was headed to college, but since my university was on the quarters system, most of my friends had left well before me. For so long my high school and athletics had been my world and now it was all gone. Friends a year below me seemed to relish their role as seniors, while I was stuck in limbo. What I didn't realize at the time was the world would soon open to something so much bigger. Today I find myself at a new crossroads. My time in Korea is coming to an end, and I will be re-assimilating into the United States with my first child, a daughter, and while I cannot be certain where I will end up professionally, I do believe the experiences I have lived through these ten years have given me strength and confidence.

Back on 9/11, I remember the distinct feeling that things would never be the same. I felt that again today. And this time, I liked it.

Gates of Heaven

I am guilty of being a complete movie snob. Sami says that I won't see a movie unless Ebert, or someone of his ilk gives it four stars. There may be more than a sliver of truth to my frustratingly intelligent wife's theory.

My problem is that I cannot stand anything that doesn't feel real. Tons of chase scenes, shootouts and car explosions? Sorry, not for me. Romantic comedy? I don't think it works that way (Seriously, I can count on one hand the number of rom-coms worth re-watching. Maybe "When Harry Met Sally." My number one most hated movie is "Maid in Manhattan). Fantasy? Please revisit the first sentence of this paragraph.

Not surprisingly, I was tempted to watch "Gates of Heaven" after seeing that some obscure group had christened it "The Greatest Documentary of All-Time." Actually, to back up even further, sometime last winter one of the eight or so Korean channels that we get had a weekend-long foreign film/documentary marathon. One of the movies I saw was Werner Herzog's "Aguirre, The Wrath of God." I have always wanted to see this classic, but unfortunately, only Korean subtitles were added to the German dialogue. Afterward, they played a short documentary titled: "Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe." This was made as a follow up to a comment to Errol Morris, director of "Gates of Heaven". Mr. Herzog told Mr. Morris that if he ever completed "Gates of Heaven," he would eat his shoe. Both followed through.

"Gates of Heaven" is about two pet cemeteries in California. One is a success, the other not so much. Sounds about as exciting as vacuuming right?

What makes this movie my new favorite isn't necessarily the subject matter, but rather how the story so completely personifies America and the people who inhabit the greatest country in the world. Closing in on nearly a year overseas, I drank this movie like medicine for a homesickened soul.

First off, the movie proves (especially in the case of the failed cemetery) that people in the U.S. have an undeniable urge to do good in the world. After years working for a non-profit, raising money for kids and adults with neuromuscular diseases, I am a true believer. There was not one day during my time at MDA, where I failed to interact with someone who chose to give either money or time, simply because they felt it was the right thing to do.

However, doing good is never as easy as it should be, and good intentions are difficult to maintain in the face of capitalism and beaurocracy. One current example that I keep coming back to is the appalling lack of a memorial to the victims of the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001 nearly a decade later.

Conversely, the second half of the movie focuses on the more successful pet cemetery, which embodies what many would consider the American Dream- start with an idea and grow it to grand and intricate levels bigger than you initially conceived. In so doing, you can provide for your family, turn your life's work over to them, expand and establish your legacy. 

Of course, I am not much of a social thinker, and I do my best to avoid any and all political discussion. What I am interested in is human interaction and how bizarre we all are in our own way. One of the things I miss most about the U.S. is the way certain people talk. In Korea, all conversation is one thousand miles-per-hour and completely monotone. I once had a Korean teacher tell me that she loves learning and listening to English because it sounds like we are singing. I appreciate the slow drawl of the characters filmed in "Gates of Heaven" because I am a bit of a slow talker myself and like to take a second or two to understand what is spoken to me before I respond. It is engrossing to hear what people have to say with a camera left filming them, instead of being stopped and asked another question. There is one scene of a local elderly woman who starts out talking about the mishap of the pet cemetery her pup was laid down in and finishes on an improvised tirade about her dead beat son and his "tramp" of an ex-wife. It is priceless.

"Gates of Heaven" was filmed in the late 70's. I don't think a documentary will ever come close to resembling it again. So called "regular people" act differently now with a camera pointed at them. They either speak with no filter, in an attempt to gain fame and notoriety (we the YouTube generation), or are so skeptical of being exploited that they hide behind "no comment" or prepared talking points as a way to protect themselves (or the company they work for) and remain politically correct (thank you 60 Minutes).

One of my favorite characters in the film is the head of a rendering company who admits to lying to the media when asked about receiving an elephant from a local zoo. Could you imagine the fallout from any admitted lie from a corporation today? The times, they have a' changed.

The movie also deals with such universal themes as death, of course, as well as companionship. You might watch the film and be intrigued in an entirely different direction than I was.

In one of the most poignant scenes near the end of the movie, one dog owner asks "After all there's your dog, and he's dead. But where is the thing that made it move?"

It is a question that I like to ask twenty minutes into every movie I watch. "What is the point? What makes it real? Where is the thing that makes it move?"

Sorry, "Maid in Manhattan," I don't know the answer. With "Gates of Heaven," I do.

To Watch "Gates of Heaven" Click Here 

Twi-lizzle

This post is not really about Twilight. Sami made me promise not to comment on the series (which I refer to as the longest "Goosebumps" ever) and her obsession with it. But, I can't help myself. Here goes...

I can honestly say that I never really believed that we were coming to Korea until our plane landed. This mostly had to do with the fact that I was barely involved in the application process other than signing my name where I was told and answering a few questions over the phone from a thickly accented Korean man (something like: "Do you like kimchi?" and "When would you like to start?"). Throw in the fact that I was heading an understaffed, non-stop fundraising effort at MDA and preparing for our July wedding, and perhaps you can see why it didn't feel 100 percent real.

Reality hit when we were met by the thickly accented Korean man holding up a sign that mistakenly read: "Joe Hayden" (I guess when your wife does all the gruntwork, the least you can do is take her name right?).

After a 2 hour car ride through neoned Seoul we arrived at our towering 20 story high rise apartment and were welcomed by representatives from our schools. We found our apartment empty and spacious, and the air inside mimicked the air outside- dense and warm with a faint smell of sweet garbage.

Many words were passed back and forth in rapid Korean between thickly-accented man and school reps. To the uninitiated, Korean conversation does not carry a friendly or inviting tone. Our internal monologues pondered the alien situation playing out in front of us: Hopefully nothing is wrong and, Oh my God I am tired.

We stood by and smiled, looking happy to be there.

Eventually everything is resolved. Delivery men would bring furniture in a few days and someone will install a new key-pad lock on our door the next. The big piece of news is that we would not be teaching for an entire week. We need to be quarantined- this being the time of the swine-flu scare.

So here we are with no furniture, no friends, no tv, no internet, no phone, no ability to speak the language and no way for the two of us to explore outside- at least until the locksmith does his thing.

What we do have is books.

At the time, I am finishing up Roth's "American Pastoral" (one of my favorites for sure) and will be moving on to a book on the BTK Strangler in Wichita and one my dad got me that inspired the movie: 21: Bringing Down the House.

Sami has Twilight. All four of them. Which I think she has already read once or twice back in the U.S.

In the week that we were quarantined, I am pretty sure that she read through each of them another two times and has since plowed through seven or eight readings.

When the new movie came out, Twilight was everywhere. I read about a group of 40+ year old women who start some sort of Twilight cult and Conan O'Brien hilariously mocked the fad on the Tonight Show (anyone remember Cody the vampire/assistant?). This was too much, I had to find out firsthand what all the hullabaloo was about (that's right. I said hullabaloo).

I started to read the first book and when I put it down in (what felt like) an hour later I was on page 380. It read amazingly fast, which may explain why the kids like it so much and why my wife can bust through New Moon and Eclipse in a day. Yes, I thought it was cheesy and I did roll my eyes a few times (especially when what's her name gushes about Edward every other paragraph), but I kept reading. I was a little disappointed by the ending of the first book- kind of random and hard to follow, but that didn't stop me from starting the second.

I found the second better than the first especially now that Edward was gone (I was digging the whole Jacob story line and at the time declared myself "Team Jacob" which infuriated Sami who is staunchly "Team Edward." Hilariously, I came up with the idea for a "Team Mike Newton" t-shirt. Sami was not impressed). However, I could only get through 100 or so pages of the third book and have no plans to finish it or the fourth. I guess I just lost interest and I suppose Twilight wasn't intended for 27 year old dudes- only high-schoolers, 40 year-old cougars, and my wife.

What a Country!

I read the article in the link above earlier today and it really got me thinking about all of the crazy things that have occured in the U.S. since we have been gone. The Letterman scandal happened during our first couple of days here and at the time, I couldn't get enough of it. It just seems like a fascination with scandals/gossip/weird news and what-have-you's is what bonds me with my friends- that and sports I guess.

A quick rundown of news I have followed from afar the last 6 months:

Mark Sanford hiking the Appalachian Trail
John Edwards' love child
Balloon Boy
Letterman's affair/attempted extortion
Kanye West and Taylor Swift (seems silly now, but at the time it wouldn't die)
Steve Phillips and his frumpy mistress
Tiger Woods' Thanksgiving Night
Tiger Woods' infidelity
Late Night Wars
Brittany Murphy dies and her husband and mom seem really creepy about it
Gilbert Arenas
Tiger Woods' weird apology press conference
The slew of UO football trouble

I guess the point is that no matter how far away from the U.S. you are, you always take it with you. I can't really imagine these happenings being real "stories" anywhere other than in the U.S.

There are only 2 instances when I can recall my Korean co-workers commenting on celebrity happenings in their country and that was when one of their movie stars' sons died of swine flu and, of course, Kim Yu-Na in the Olympics.

They do keep up on the U.S. news though. Can you imagine how difficult it was for me to attempt to explain Balloon Boy to them?

Survivor

This is an attempt to document our time in South Korea (I say our because I am including my wife Sami in this, she being the one who came up with the crazy idea to teach here), with the idea being that I won't be able to remember much of this experience without writing it all down on (digital) paper.

This is something I wanted to do six months ago when we first arrived. But, not unlike the pile of laundry perpetually piled on my desk, I never got around to it.

So instead of starting by spouting off some of our more memorable experiences and travels thusfar, I am going to talk about Survivor.

Actually, when we first moved here we didn't have internet or tv for a week or so and it was a huge strain. It was bad enough feeling powerless outside, but to suddenly be without any distraction (and I say that in a good way meaning HD, Comcast with HBO, DVR, Tiger Woods PGA Tour on PS3- at that time he was still immortal-, cellphone etc.) inside was a nightmare. We had to go to a PC Bang (room) to e-mail our families and we were scared shitless not knowing how much anything would cost.

A few weeks in, out of desperation, I opened the sliding glass window to our apartment (we are on the second floor of a 20 story high-rise) and found a coaxial cable zip-tied to the side of our builing. I grabbed a tiny pair of scissors, cut the zip-ties and plugged the cable into the wall next to the tv. Miraculously the tv turned on to ESPN news. Yes, it was a simple act, and one I probably should have figured out much sooner, but I immediately felt like Tom Hanks in "Castaway" where he jumps around beating his chest shouting "Look at what I have created! FIRE!"

Later, we would discover that we only had one channel in English- Armed Forces Network, and they show a mish-mash of American shows. It is fantastic. And.....they just happen to show Survivor.

I don't really remember how Sami and I started watching Survivor, but it is one of the few shows that she actually watches. I on the other hand, am an addict and Mad Men, The Wire, Curb, Conan (that will be another post for sure), The Office (lately Parks and Recreation has been on AFN which is awesome) are my drugs of choice.

Now that I think about it, I am pretty sure that we watched Big Brother first and got into it and then Sami moved to Survivor and I swore I wouldn't watch it because I have some weird thing where if she suggests something is good then I think it must be lame, but eventually I got roped. It was way better with my sweet 42" plasma, but still...

So. Enough backstory. I love Russel. At least I did last season, but now it makes me a little angry that he seems to be smitten with Parvarti. I hope it is an act. Still Rusell is my fave. Second is Coach, a fact which causes Sami all sorts of grief. I just think he is good tv. I also like Jerri for some strange reason, I think it is because she just seems like a real person, and Boston Rob. I think I just like Boston Rob's voice.

"I miss Am-buh."

No one on the Heroes tribe interests me. I do think Tom is a good guy, but since he won everything in Palau, I kind of want to see him struggle real bad.