September 30, 2009
Among the new friends I've made in Korea is my good buddy, Jack. Jack is a Down's syndrome child whose older brother ia a sixth grader at my school. His mother appeared at the school recently and begged that the boy be allowed to attend school some so he could be with other children. She said his older brother would be responsible for him or she would come sit in school to be sure he wasn't any trouble. At first, the PTB's ( powers that be) said no because our school is hardly equipped to deal with a special needs child. In fact, however, in one way or another the entire student body of my school is one big special needs group.
Long story short: I put on my idiot boob hat (again!) as I wandered upon the situation and told the PTB's the boy could hang out with my classes, maybe learn some English and enjoy being with other kids. The sixth graders have sort of adopted him as a mascot and his brother takes care of bathroom needs and feeds him lunch. I can't competently get my tongue around some Korean names, so I decided to call him Jack and he seems to like it. He's a kind boy, very friendly and is able to function at a good level. Jack represents a stigma for his family in Korean society which appears to be quick to cover up its embarrassments. I take it his family can't or won't institutionalize him (if you can even do that in Korea) and his mother (as is the case with all good mothers) is willing to stick her neck out and try to do something to help him even if society in general thinks my buddy, Jack, should be out of sight and mind.
I'll report anything noteworthy about Jack, but I already have one fun story to tell on him. The other night, I saw the movie "Top Gun" on Korean TV dubbed in Korean. (Tom Cruise could do a better job of synchronizing his lips with the Korean voiceover.) Remember the pilots saying "Rock 'n roll" when flying a mission? Well, I used the expression with Jack as in "Come on Jack...let's rock 'n roll!" and he likes it so much that he says it to everyone he sees. I think the principal is thoroughly confused, but his mentors in the sixth grade get it and humor him with it.
Please pray for Jack and throw in a request that I be allowed to help him just a little and benefit from his friendship.
Rockin' and Rollin'.
(Special Needs) Teacher Bill
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
The Second Coming of Noah Webster
Greetings Fellow Lexicographers:
I have to admit it--I'm a lexicographic (word) freak. While in college, I spent many late nights in the campus library thumbing randomly through the O.E.D. (Oxford English Dictionary, the official bible of our language) in a fascinating quest to learn the etymology (history, source, derivation) of the more than 60,000 English words we have available for communication. If you're typical of most Americans you are probably functional with, at most, 1200-1500 words which is kind of pathetic if you think about it. Along my scholastic journey, I invested considerable effort studying the work of British lexicographer Charles K. Ogden, the inventor/developer of Ogden's Basic English. In a nutshell, Ogden's Basic is a set of 850 words that can be used along with articles, prepositions and pronouns and the verbs "to have" and "to be" to communicate about 90% of everything you need to say in English. Recalling this trip I made into the dark recesses of academia's closet resulted in a...
B R A I N S T O R M!!! Is that a light bulb flashing over my head???
and I said to myself: "Self, why not create a Korean-English and reverse dictionary of Ogden's 850 and use it to speed up the process of learning English for your students?"
So......with the translational help of my teacher friend Min-hi, I'm playing at being the Noah Webster of Korea and we will publish a rough first version of the first edition of Teacher Bill's "Words for the Wise" ( a little play on words--get it?) Dictionary hopefully next month. I have some other content ideas, but the basic dictionary comes first. I'm playing with the idea of a global enterprise built around trashing the way English is taught as a foreign language and introducing something simple, but revolutionary and easy to use and targeted to younger learners. I have to sign off now and finish up the copyright application I'm preparing. I also need to finish this week's lesson outlines and read up on how to use the light pen that came with my new electrified English classroom.
So much to do and so little time!
Never at a loss for words,
Bill
I have to admit it--I'm a lexicographic (word) freak. While in college, I spent many late nights in the campus library thumbing randomly through the O.E.D. (Oxford English Dictionary, the official bible of our language) in a fascinating quest to learn the etymology (history, source, derivation) of the more than 60,000 English words we have available for communication. If you're typical of most Americans you are probably functional with, at most, 1200-1500 words which is kind of pathetic if you think about it. Along my scholastic journey, I invested considerable effort studying the work of British lexicographer Charles K. Ogden, the inventor/developer of Ogden's Basic English. In a nutshell, Ogden's Basic is a set of 850 words that can be used along with articles, prepositions and pronouns and the verbs "to have" and "to be" to communicate about 90% of everything you need to say in English. Recalling this trip I made into the dark recesses of academia's closet resulted in a...
B R A I N S T O R M!!! Is that a light bulb flashing over my head???
and I said to myself: "Self, why not create a Korean-English and reverse dictionary of Ogden's 850 and use it to speed up the process of learning English for your students?"
So......with the translational help of my teacher friend Min-hi, I'm playing at being the Noah Webster of Korea and we will publish a rough first version of the first edition of Teacher Bill's "Words for the Wise" ( a little play on words--get it?) Dictionary hopefully next month. I have some other content ideas, but the basic dictionary comes first. I'm playing with the idea of a global enterprise built around trashing the way English is taught as a foreign language and introducing something simple, but revolutionary and easy to use and targeted to younger learners. I have to sign off now and finish up the copyright application I'm preparing. I also need to finish this week's lesson outlines and read up on how to use the light pen that came with my new electrified English classroom.
So much to do and so little time!
Never at a loss for words,
Bill
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Hopscotch B'gosh!
Greetings Fellow Playground Rats:
Are there any true Trekkies out there? You know what a Trekkie is...... That's right: a Trekkie is someone of my approximate vintage who has watched so many original and re-run episodes of Star Trek that he knows the plot synopses and memorable dialogue from every episode of the series from 1968 through 1973. A readily identifiable trait of a real Trekkie is his increasingly bizarre inability to separate fantasy from reality. He's lost forever in his own private time warp in which the Klingons or Romulans are continually lurking about hoping to blast him with a ray gun that will neutralize his brain. So Trekkies, do we all remember "The Prime Directive" the United Federation of Planets gives to all of us Starship captains? That's right! General Order #1: You shall not interfere with the social or technological development of any alien civilization you encounter.
OOPS!! (Sorry, my bad....again--but you knew it had to be coming.)
My third graders have a Learning English workbook I ordered for them and one of the study units is about playground activities. My students were especially intrigued with American playground games and had a particular fascination with the idea of hopscotch. (Koreans, apparently, knew nothing at all about hopscotch. Suffice to say, THEY DO NOW!) So, what does the well-meaning idiot boob teacher from America do? You guessed it. He finds a box of chalk, draws a hopscotch game on the sidewalk in back of the school (which happens to be visible from the teachers' workroom, so you know where this story is headed), assigns vocabulary words they have to learn to each number and proceeds to introduce Koreans to yet another new game (albeit in a slightly altered form). The kids are having a blast hopping and counting and saying their vocabulary words in an orderly manner when several teachers climb out the window (don't worry...it's first floor) and get in line with the kids to have their first go at hopscotch. (How these people ever grew up is beyond me). However, the story gets even better (if not insanely improbable).
Over the next few days, the school was completely stripped of its chalk supply and there's no doubt where it went or who is responsible. Hopscotch game boards have appeared on sidewalks, parking lots and paved surfaces in Duckdo-Ri and Yangju and may be spreading toward the border with North Korea and south toward Seoul. All of this "sidewalk art" is anathema to the Korean sense of order, dignity and harmony and the street-sweepers union is probably after the head of the instigator. What was that about The Prime Directive and not interfering with the development of alien civilizations? Will I ever learn? My days as a starship captain could be numbered. I'll probably get busted down to sergeant or worse. If I lie low, the Principal said he would cover for me. Hopscotch is still allowed at Hyochon School, but only behind the building and out of sight....and the chalk supply is now locked up in the school office and issued only by the individual stick.
Don't y'all wish you had my life?
Keep on hoppin',
Sergeant (on the way to Private),
Bill
Are there any true Trekkies out there? You know what a Trekkie is...... That's right: a Trekkie is someone of my approximate vintage who has watched so many original and re-run episodes of Star Trek that he knows the plot synopses and memorable dialogue from every episode of the series from 1968 through 1973. A readily identifiable trait of a real Trekkie is his increasingly bizarre inability to separate fantasy from reality. He's lost forever in his own private time warp in which the Klingons or Romulans are continually lurking about hoping to blast him with a ray gun that will neutralize his brain. So Trekkies, do we all remember "The Prime Directive" the United Federation of Planets gives to all of us Starship captains? That's right! General Order #1: You shall not interfere with the social or technological development of any alien civilization you encounter.
OOPS!! (Sorry, my bad....again--but you knew it had to be coming.)
My third graders have a Learning English workbook I ordered for them and one of the study units is about playground activities. My students were especially intrigued with American playground games and had a particular fascination with the idea of hopscotch. (Koreans, apparently, knew nothing at all about hopscotch. Suffice to say, THEY DO NOW!) So, what does the well-meaning idiot boob teacher from America do? You guessed it. He finds a box of chalk, draws a hopscotch game on the sidewalk in back of the school (which happens to be visible from the teachers' workroom, so you know where this story is headed), assigns vocabulary words they have to learn to each number and proceeds to introduce Koreans to yet another new game (albeit in a slightly altered form). The kids are having a blast hopping and counting and saying their vocabulary words in an orderly manner when several teachers climb out the window (don't worry...it's first floor) and get in line with the kids to have their first go at hopscotch. (How these people ever grew up is beyond me). However, the story gets even better (if not insanely improbable).
Over the next few days, the school was completely stripped of its chalk supply and there's no doubt where it went or who is responsible. Hopscotch game boards have appeared on sidewalks, parking lots and paved surfaces in Duckdo-Ri and Yangju and may be spreading toward the border with North Korea and south toward Seoul. All of this "sidewalk art" is anathema to the Korean sense of order, dignity and harmony and the street-sweepers union is probably after the head of the instigator. What was that about The Prime Directive and not interfering with the development of alien civilizations? Will I ever learn? My days as a starship captain could be numbered. I'll probably get busted down to sergeant or worse. If I lie low, the Principal said he would cover for me. Hopscotch is still allowed at Hyochon School, but only behind the building and out of sight....and the chalk supply is now locked up in the school office and issued only by the individual stick.
Don't y'all wish you had my life?
Keep on hoppin',
Sergeant (on the way to Private),
Bill
Sunday, August 30, 2009
This just in....
Greetings Nature Lovers:
A short post to acknowledge that the Koreans may be more right about kudzu than we know. I read an internet report today about studies going on at a couple of universities in which researchers are testing an extract of kudzu root as a treatment for high blood pressure. Apparently, following a recent extended test, lab rats were shown to have significantly lower blood pressures after treatment with a drug made from kudzu root. Don't start grazing on the kudzu growing up the side of your house just yet, but it does look promising.
Have a relaxing, non-pressured day.
Kudzu Bill
Blog Science Editor
A short post to acknowledge that the Koreans may be more right about kudzu than we know. I read an internet report today about studies going on at a couple of universities in which researchers are testing an extract of kudzu root as a treatment for high blood pressure. Apparently, following a recent extended test, lab rats were shown to have significantly lower blood pressures after treatment with a drug made from kudzu root. Don't start grazing on the kudzu growing up the side of your house just yet, but it does look promising.
Have a relaxing, non-pressured day.
Kudzu Bill
Blog Science Editor
Thursday, August 27, 2009
A Room That's New...... and Karaoke 2
Hello Culture Lovers:
My school building in Duckdo-Ri is a rather modest affair the oldest part of which, I would judge, was built sometime during the years immediately following The Korean War. I would date it late 1950's. It serves the children of what has been a relatively transient population of agrarian working class people who are migrating toward the bright lights and better opportunities they hope to find in Yangju, Uijongbu and Seoul. Their expectations aren't great and their primary motivation lies in getting their children anywhere other than where they've been. Duckdo-Ri isn't exactly a Peace Corps kind of situation, but neither will anyone ever mistake it for Times Square. The school has languished somewhat by my estimation largely due to the de facto Korean caste system which doesn't seem to assign these people much value beyond manual labor. (For example, I've learned that if your family name isn't included among the eight historically upper class ruling clans of Korea you pretty much don't matter.) Fortunately, the last several principals of the school have been successful in snagging some government resources to make improvements. Having set the scene for you, we direct your attention to stage left where the boob/daredevil teacher from America has entered and, in his usual fashion, immediately upsets the socio-cultural apple cart. (I can hear the groans of "Oh no, not again!)
When I first arrived here back in February, I was told they were "ashamed" (their word via translation, not mine) that the school didn't have a dedicated classroom for English instruction as
many schools in Korea do these days. They did have me set up shop in the school library which had a cabinet in which they stored English language teaching materials. (Side note: Most of what they gave me as teaching materials were obviously created by professionals who know a lot about methods and theory and very little about applied linguistics and, more importantly, how to out-con an elementary age con artist into learning a language.) Long story short, I trashed most of their material (actually, stuffed it back in the cabinet) and went to work creating something useful. If I had several years here I'm willing to bet I could revolutionize their entire language curriculum. Lest my observation be considered an idle boast, I say in the words of baseball great Dizzy Dean: "It ain't braggin' if ya kin DO IT!" Where was I? Oh yeah.....
By a few of what could only be divinely directed circumstances (have you noticed that, sometimes, God just takes over and mostly when you don't expect it?) I got my (now buddy) the mayor of Yangju involved and as of today, August 28th, I am holding court for my youthful charges in a newly constructed addition to the school building that contains everything for which I asked and then some. Among other goodies, we have (courtesy of Samsung, bless 'em) an interactive video system with a 70 inch "touch" screen plus some really cool software, four "Language Tutor" brand individual language practice study stations, an elctronic map of the world in Korean and English, a custom-made "role playing" area that can be converted into everything from a store counter to an airplane passenger cabin and a lot of other cool stuff that was recommended or developed by an educational consulting firm from Seoul. My students may be bumpkins, but by the grace of the Almighty, they're going to be state-of-the-art bumpkins! I'll conclude by noting in the words of a praise song we sing at church--"I called....you answered..."
Karaoke 2: I continued my 1960's theme by stumbling through a haunting rendition of the Petula Clark hit, "Downtown". (How I love that synthesizer microphone). Carnaby Street in London never heard it done any better. Despite pleas for an encore or a duet, I decided to quit while my chi (remember that?) was still working for me. As they say, a good time was had by all.
Wishing you good times,
Electric Bill
When I first arrived here back in February, I was told they were "ashamed" (their word via translation, not mine) that the school didn't have a dedicated classroom for English instruction as
many schools in Korea do these days. They did have me set up shop in the school library which had a cabinet in which they stored English language teaching materials. (Side note: Most of what they gave me as teaching materials were obviously created by professionals who know a lot about methods and theory and very little about applied linguistics and, more importantly, how to out-con an elementary age con artist into learning a language.) Long story short, I trashed most of their material (actually, stuffed it back in the cabinet) and went to work creating something useful. If I had several years here I'm willing to bet I could revolutionize their entire language curriculum. Lest my observation be considered an idle boast, I say in the words of baseball great Dizzy Dean: "It ain't braggin' if ya kin DO IT!" Where was I? Oh yeah.....
By a few of what could only be divinely directed circumstances (have you noticed that, sometimes, God just takes over and mostly when you don't expect it?) I got my (now buddy) the mayor of Yangju involved and as of today, August 28th, I am holding court for my youthful charges in a newly constructed addition to the school building that contains everything for which I asked and then some. Among other goodies, we have (courtesy of Samsung, bless 'em) an interactive video system with a 70 inch "touch" screen plus some really cool software, four "Language Tutor" brand individual language practice study stations, an elctronic map of the world in Korean and English, a custom-made "role playing" area that can be converted into everything from a store counter to an airplane passenger cabin and a lot of other cool stuff that was recommended or developed by an educational consulting firm from Seoul. My students may be bumpkins, but by the grace of the Almighty, they're going to be state-of-the-art bumpkins! I'll conclude by noting in the words of a praise song we sing at church--"I called....you answered..."
Karaoke 2: I continued my 1960's theme by stumbling through a haunting rendition of the Petula Clark hit, "Downtown". (How I love that synthesizer microphone). Carnaby Street in London never heard it done any better. Despite pleas for an encore or a duet, I decided to quit while my chi (remember that?) was still working for me. As they say, a good time was had by all.
Wishing you good times,
Electric Bill
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Of Abalone and Artillery
Greetings Fellow Daredevils:
I've been known to put some strange things in my stomach. I'm probably even better known as a controlled risk taker who will push the edge occasionally with what I say and do in my personal selective pursuit of experience. Since I'm supposed to be dead anyway (stroke, 1989; car wreck, 2006) and continue to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide only by the grace of divine intervention, it seems to me that taking a risk or two (or three or...) might not be such a bad use of all this borrowed time I have. In retrospect, I've probably already borrowed quite bit considering that, during a visit to Jerusalem during one of my archaeological expeditions in Israel, I eagerly accepted a proposal from the manager of the Palestinian-owned hotel at which I was staying to have his family take me for an up close and personal tour of Arab East Jerusalem with a fly-by of Yasser Arafat's headquarters at Abu Dis. Only whilst I was meeting and greeting with Palestinians in the streets of East Jerusalem did it occur to me that I hadn't told any sane member of my expedition team (there actually were one or two rational souls out of thirty which is about the right percentage for a gathering of archaeologists) where I was going and with whom. Everything worked out OK and probably was no riskier than eating the lunch I had purchased that day from a street vendor who was cooking on the sidewalk. (Hey, I had had my vaccination for Hepatitis A.) To quote from Ferris Bueller: "You have to stop and look around once in a while. If you don't, you might miss something."
(I've been resting my typing hand. Now, back to our story.)
Referencing my last post, before leaving Kyung-jong, Min-hi and her mother fixed a traditional Korean breakfast of soup, rice, vegetables and, as a special treat, abalone. Abalone is the meat of the giant Pacific clam (you've seen pictures--they're about two to three feet wide and weigh about fifty pounds). Like caviar, there's only so much of it and it's priced accordingly. Five of us shared about two pounds of abalone which I have since learned runs about 100,000 won ($80) per pound. As a special added treat, we had some really tasty goodies of odd shapes and consistency for which I was told the tongue-twisting Korean name. Min-hi looked it up on her electronic Korean-English dictionary and the translation came back "innards." GUTS??? Big clams have guts? Min-hi's father told me that eating them is good for"what makes you a man." The women ate them, too, but I didn't pursue that line of discussion further. Breakfast concluded with mint and jasmine tea of which I partook liberal quantities. Sufficiently fortified, I set out for my confrontation with the North Koreans.
Partying Down (NOT!) at Panmunjom
The best that can be said about the scene around the Demilitarized Zone at the 38th parallel is that the terrain and the troops on either side of the line look equally bleak. The entire place is an armed camp for as far as can be seen with big lines of artillery set on the ridges pointed in either direction across the border. I doubt those Howitzers and Russian made guns could hit much of value from where they are, but the effect of their presence sends a message. The North supposedly has even bigger artillery (mounted on rail cars they move continually along the border) capable of hitting Seoul. The army stops the limited amount of permit traffic (we had one) well south of the DMZ where you can look at the border and peace talks building through those big binocular-like telescopes that are popular at scenic vistas in the U.S. No picture taking is allowed which is OK because there really isn't much to see. Not many people come to Panmunjom because access is controlled (Min-hi's father knows people in the South Korean Press Corps which was the source of our permit) and the place hardly qualifies as a tourist attraction. Even from a distance the scene is somewhat surreal and I kept looking around for M*A*S*H 4077th. It's a sobering place and safe although I have to admit that I felt better about hanging out with the Arabs in the shadow of PLO Headquarters than I did staring across (OK, at a distance and through a telescope) the border at what is (with the possible exception of Jerusalem) the most bitterly contested desert rockpile on earth.
The 38th parallel divides families as much as it divides territory. They say there isn't a family in South Korea that doesn't have relative bottled up in the North and Min-hi's family is no exception. They are hopeful that the decline in tensions between North and South over the past few weeks may finally lead to some cross-border family visits. However, they have had false dawns before and one can only hope.
Summer break is about over and the second half of the school year starts next week. The special English classroom that has been under construction as an addition to the second floor of the school building is almost finished and I have promised to help get it equipped and operational before I leave. Lots to do and not enough time to do it. And (Did you get the news?) a grandson on the way. Me? A grandfather? Talk about surreal!
Luv 2 all.
A well-fed and very sober,
Teacher Bill
I've been known to put some strange things in my stomach. I'm probably even better known as a controlled risk taker who will push the edge occasionally with what I say and do in my personal selective pursuit of experience. Since I'm supposed to be dead anyway (stroke, 1989; car wreck, 2006) and continue to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide only by the grace of divine intervention, it seems to me that taking a risk or two (or three or...) might not be such a bad use of all this borrowed time I have. In retrospect, I've probably already borrowed quite bit considering that, during a visit to Jerusalem during one of my archaeological expeditions in Israel, I eagerly accepted a proposal from the manager of the Palestinian-owned hotel at which I was staying to have his family take me for an up close and personal tour of Arab East Jerusalem with a fly-by of Yasser Arafat's headquarters at Abu Dis. Only whilst I was meeting and greeting with Palestinians in the streets of East Jerusalem did it occur to me that I hadn't told any sane member of my expedition team (there actually were one or two rational souls out of thirty which is about the right percentage for a gathering of archaeologists) where I was going and with whom. Everything worked out OK and probably was no riskier than eating the lunch I had purchased that day from a street vendor who was cooking on the sidewalk. (Hey, I had had my vaccination for Hepatitis A.) To quote from Ferris Bueller: "You have to stop and look around once in a while. If you don't, you might miss something."
(I've been resting my typing hand. Now, back to our story.)
Referencing my last post, before leaving Kyung-jong, Min-hi and her mother fixed a traditional Korean breakfast of soup, rice, vegetables and, as a special treat, abalone. Abalone is the meat of the giant Pacific clam (you've seen pictures--they're about two to three feet wide and weigh about fifty pounds). Like caviar, there's only so much of it and it's priced accordingly. Five of us shared about two pounds of abalone which I have since learned runs about 100,000 won ($80) per pound. As a special added treat, we had some really tasty goodies of odd shapes and consistency for which I was told the tongue-twisting Korean name. Min-hi looked it up on her electronic Korean-English dictionary and the translation came back "innards." GUTS??? Big clams have guts? Min-hi's father told me that eating them is good for"what makes you a man." The women ate them, too, but I didn't pursue that line of discussion further. Breakfast concluded with mint and jasmine tea of which I partook liberal quantities. Sufficiently fortified, I set out for my confrontation with the North Koreans.
Partying Down (NOT!) at Panmunjom
The best that can be said about the scene around the Demilitarized Zone at the 38th parallel is that the terrain and the troops on either side of the line look equally bleak. The entire place is an armed camp for as far as can be seen with big lines of artillery set on the ridges pointed in either direction across the border. I doubt those Howitzers and Russian made guns could hit much of value from where they are, but the effect of their presence sends a message. The North supposedly has even bigger artillery (mounted on rail cars they move continually along the border) capable of hitting Seoul. The army stops the limited amount of permit traffic (we had one) well south of the DMZ where you can look at the border and peace talks building through those big binocular-like telescopes that are popular at scenic vistas in the U.S. No picture taking is allowed which is OK because there really isn't much to see. Not many people come to Panmunjom because access is controlled (Min-hi's father knows people in the South Korean Press Corps which was the source of our permit) and the place hardly qualifies as a tourist attraction. Even from a distance the scene is somewhat surreal and I kept looking around for M*A*S*H 4077th. It's a sobering place and safe although I have to admit that I felt better about hanging out with the Arabs in the shadow of PLO Headquarters than I did staring across (OK, at a distance and through a telescope) the border at what is (with the possible exception of Jerusalem) the most bitterly contested desert rockpile on earth.
The 38th parallel divides families as much as it divides territory. They say there isn't a family in South Korea that doesn't have relative bottled up in the North and Min-hi's family is no exception. They are hopeful that the decline in tensions between North and South over the past few weeks may finally lead to some cross-border family visits. However, they have had false dawns before and one can only hope.
Summer break is about over and the second half of the school year starts next week. The special English classroom that has been under construction as an addition to the second floor of the school building is almost finished and I have promised to help get it equipped and operational before I leave. Lots to do and not enough time to do it. And (Did you get the news?) a grandson on the way. Me? A grandfather? Talk about surreal!
Luv 2 all.
A well-fed and very sober,
Teacher Bill
Sunday, August 23, 2009
I'm A Travelin' Man....(with apologies to Ricky Nelson)
Hello, Fellow Travelers on the Road of Life:
Well, I covered a lot of ground this past week. My wonderful teacher friend, Song Min-Hi, and her family invited me to see some parts of Korea that few tourists are ever able to penetrate by virtue of being off the beaten path and somewhat difficult to access. Min-hi is the first grade teacher at my school and has been a lifesaver for me because she is the only one around the place who speaks fairly fluent English. She is about Diana's age. She and her boyfriend have to be in the running for "Cutest Couple in Korea" and I take a certain pride in the fact that she says her boyfriend is more afraid of me than he is of her father. After all, I am a lot bigger than most Korean men and my Bhuddah-like dome probably inspires a certain other-worldly kind of awe. But I digress...back to our story.
My first venture this week was to the ancient city of Kyung-jong (about a four hour train ride southeast of Uijongbu) which has been preserved and set aside as a kind of Bhuddist version of Williamsburg. The architecture is very distinctive and the seven-towered temple complex is impressive. I was able to visit a Bhuddist "prayer meetin'" in a large hall complete with tinkling cymbals, booming drums and an ominous sounding gong. I declined the opportunity to buy a fruit or grain offering to leave at the statue of Bhudda ("Thou shalt not make unto thyself any graven image"), but I did make a donation to the temple "poor box." My impression is that these people are serious, peaceful and not hurting anybody. However, it's a long way from Christianity and is, ultimately, a religion of salvation by works rather than by faith and fails the test of the Christian ethos. I wasn't called to be an evangelist and upset anyone's cultural apple cart (I do enough of that in secular circumstances). To each his own, I suppose. We then drove up a nearby mountain to Seong-ju to see Korea's oldest and largest stone Bhuddah. Again, more opportunities for fruit and grain, another poor box, etc. The place is a UNESCO World Heritage site (with the obligatory donation to support on-going preservation work) and worth the half-hour climb up a rocky path. It reminded me somewhat of the massive "Christ the Redeemer" statue on the mountain overlooking Rio de Janeiro. After a museum visit and a trip to see an ancient Confucian astronomical observatory we drove east to Pohang-si, a seaside town overlooking the Sea of Japan. I'm a big fan of sashimi (raw fish) and got to pick my own fish from a big tank and have it skinned and fileted table-side. I think part of it was still moving, but it tasted so good I try not to think about it lest the wrath of PETA descend on me.
Back to K yung-jong where we spent the night at a mountain guest house where Min-hi's family had made reservations. I'll tell you later about my oddball breakfast experience and visit to the border with North Korea and the U.N. peace talks site at Panmunjom but, for now, my typing hand is worn out.
Your "Smiling Bhudda" Buddy,
Bill
Well, I covered a lot of ground this past week. My wonderful teacher friend, Song Min-Hi, and her family invited me to see some parts of Korea that few tourists are ever able to penetrate by virtue of being off the beaten path and somewhat difficult to access. Min-hi is the first grade teacher at my school and has been a lifesaver for me because she is the only one around the place who speaks fairly fluent English. She is about Diana's age. She and her boyfriend have to be in the running for "Cutest Couple in Korea" and I take a certain pride in the fact that she says her boyfriend is more afraid of me than he is of her father. After all, I am a lot bigger than most Korean men and my Bhuddah-like dome probably inspires a certain other-worldly kind of awe. But I digress...back to our story.
My first venture this week was to the ancient city of Kyung-jong (about a four hour train ride southeast of Uijongbu) which has been preserved and set aside as a kind of Bhuddist version of Williamsburg. The architecture is very distinctive and the seven-towered temple complex is impressive. I was able to visit a Bhuddist "prayer meetin'" in a large hall complete with tinkling cymbals, booming drums and an ominous sounding gong. I declined the opportunity to buy a fruit or grain offering to leave at the statue of Bhudda ("Thou shalt not make unto thyself any graven image"), but I did make a donation to the temple "poor box." My impression is that these people are serious, peaceful and not hurting anybody. However, it's a long way from Christianity and is, ultimately, a religion of salvation by works rather than by faith and fails the test of the Christian ethos. I wasn't called to be an evangelist and upset anyone's cultural apple cart (I do enough of that in secular circumstances). To each his own, I suppose. We then drove up a nearby mountain to Seong-ju to see Korea's oldest and largest stone Bhuddah. Again, more opportunities for fruit and grain, another poor box, etc. The place is a UNESCO World Heritage site (with the obligatory donation to support on-going preservation work) and worth the half-hour climb up a rocky path. It reminded me somewhat of the massive "Christ the Redeemer" statue on the mountain overlooking Rio de Janeiro. After a museum visit and a trip to see an ancient Confucian astronomical observatory we drove east to Pohang-si, a seaside town overlooking the Sea of Japan. I'm a big fan of sashimi (raw fish) and got to pick my own fish from a big tank and have it skinned and fileted table-side. I think part of it was still moving, but it tasted so good I try not to think about it lest the wrath of PETA descend on me.
Back to K yung-jong where we spent the night at a mountain guest house where Min-hi's family had made reservations. I'll tell you later about my oddball breakfast experience and visit to the border with North Korea and the U.N. peace talks site at Panmunjom but, for now, my typing hand is worn out.
Your "Smiling Bhudda" Buddy,
Bill
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