Well, today wasn’t supposed to be a work day but it turned into one regardless.  The big boss called a staff meeting for 8:15 this morning so of necessity my alarm caused me to arouse from my slumber at six (no easy feat after dart night!  Which went extraordinarily well; my 10-2 performance contributing to a 26-13 victory).  Since I was non-scheduled my attendance was likely not mandatory, but I figured showing the flag couldn’t hurt. Besides, I planned on making a commissary run today anyway, albeit not so damn early in the morning.  About halfway through the meeting the boss asked me when I had to catch my bus to K-16. I told him I wasn’t working.  That seemed to impress him and he told me to “take back the time from K-16”, which I take to mean cut one of my shifts down for the hour I spent in his meeting. Well, my clients expect me to be there during my posted working hours and I don’t want to let them down.  And even if I wanted to cut out early I’m a slave to the bus schedule and there is nothing to be had an hour earlier.  Ah well, it’s the thought that counts.

At the conclusion of the meeting I was awarded this blue ribbon. Or should have been.

So, I took the base bus to the commissary and then remembered that it doesn’t open until 10:00.  Well, it’s opens a 7:00 for “early bird” shoppers, but in those circumstances you are limited to 20 items or less.  My shopping list was much larger than that, so I sat around until a quarter to the hour and commenced selecting my groceries at a leisurely pace, and thus completed my rounds well after the appointed time for full-on shopping.

Regularly readers may recall that one of the few issues I have in my Korea life is with taxis.  This problem seems to also include the on-base taxi drivers. I noticed this yesterday when I took a cab from the PX into Itaewon.  Why take a cab when it’s an easy walk you ask?  Well, I was carrying 24 cans of Diet Coke in my back pack for one thing. And I’m having some pain issues with my left leg which makes no walk easy. Anyway, the fare is usually around W3000, but the driver yesterday appeared to be intentionally missing every light, yielding to other vehicles unnecessarily, and drove at an inordinately slow rate of speed.  By the time I arrived at my destination he had managed to work the fare up W4400.  The joke was on him though because I always pay W5000 for the ride, the difference between the meter and that amount constituting the tip.  My Korean is not good enough to say “you just fucked yourself buddy”, but that was my thought as I exited the cab.

Today when I entered the commissary before it’s proper opening time there were five cabs waiting for fares.  When I exited with my groceries there was not a cab in sight.  The guy behind me in the taxi queue called dispatch at least twice asking for cabs to be sent to the commissary.  Twenty minutes later still no rides.  When a cab finally did come, I let the guy who called take it.  Only seemed fair.  Ten more minutes and I was able to snag a cab dropping off a passenger.  The bastards at dispatch couldn’t be bothered I guess.  So after I finished loading my groceries in the trunk the driver asked “where to?”  I told him I’ll give you a choice, Ichon station (a W3000 ride) or Gireum station (a W20,000 fare).  He didn’t hesitate to say “Ichon please”.  So, Ichon it was.

After schlepping three large bags and a jam packed backpack down the stairs, the first train to come by was overflowing.  The next train was only two minutes away and I hoped there would be room for me and my groceries on that one.  Thankfully, that proved to be the case.  I scored the wheelchair area which afforded ample space to store my bags and a wall for me to lean against.  An ajussi encouraged me to sit with him in the seats reserved for the elderly and infirm.  Although I am both, I still didn’t feel right about it so I respectfully declined.

Admittedly, I went a little overboard with my purchases today. Around $180. worth (a new record!) and I didn’t have Jee Yeun with me to help share the burden.

Holy crap, how am I going to get this shit home? It turns out with great difficulty.

I was on the wrong end of the train which necessitated traversing the entire length of Gireum station.  When I reached my exit I was distressed to see the escalator was out of service.  So I walked over to the other side and took a functioning escalator ride to the top. My arms were already screaming at this point, but I bravely marched on.  It’s an uphill walk to the apartment building and I had to stop for a rest about halfway home.  But by god, I got it done and now the larders are well-stocked with some old-fashioned American goodness.

I don’t always eat frozen peas, but when I do I like them smothered in Sweet Baby Ray’s!

Not really.  But I reckon there is someone out there who does.

My haul from today’s excursion to Yongsan Garrison.

As mentioned in my previous post, among the petty annoyances I’ve been experiencing was a non-functioning printer.  I rectified that this afternoon with the purchase of the HP Deskjet 1512 pictured above.  The printer was the cheapest of the lot I looked at ($49.95), but it prints and scans and that’s all I require.  Of course, the connecting cables sold separately ($7.95) and I went ahead and bought an extra ink cartridge for $23.95.  It’s astounding that the ink costs almost half as much as the actual printer. The other items I brought home are gas canisters for grill, eyeglass wipes, DayQuill, a box of Popeye’s chicken and a Whopper Jr. for Jee Yeun.  Not pictured is the strawberry shake I enjoyed on the way home.

Basic, but functional.

With the printer assembled I was able to scan and email all my tax documents to the accountant back in South Carolina.  So that’s one less thing to worry about.  Until it comes time to pay at least.  Last year my federal return was almost enough to pay my SC taxes. We’ll see.

I called the insurance company again about the claim on my parent’s house (see previous post for details on that cluster fuck).  Got directed to voice mail yet again.  Called back and spoke with the receptionist.  Told her I’ve been trying to reach Ms. Sheehan for two days, she cut me off and said I’ll transfer you.  Of course, it went to voice mail.  So, I called back more than a little irritated and said this is a matter of some urgency and Ms. Sheehan is not answering her phone.  She said let me transfer you to the manager.  And you guessed it, I got his voice mail.  I left a message with him, but I don’t expect he’ll call me back in Korea.

At least my job is not stressful, except when it is.  Four months in and I’m still not able to access the computer network.  The big boss isn’t happy and told my boss he wants it resolved.  My boss emailed me and basically said get it done.  I’m not sure what the fuck I’m supposed to do about it.  When I took the initiative to get the printer fixed it backfired.  I was working with the IMO (Information Management Office) and they were unable to resolve the issue.  For some reason, the IMO contacted the big boss and he didn’t like being blindsided.  My boss told me to keep the big boss in the loop in the future, and the big boss told me not to contact the IMO again, just let him know and he would deal with them directly.  Bottom line, I still don’t have a functioning printer in the computer lab. Which means I regularly have to disappoint soldiers who come to use our facility.  I’ve always been customer service oriented so I find that extremely frustrating.

Otherwise, the job is a pretty sweet gig.  Twenty hours a week at next to no pay and no real responsibility.  Boring as hell though.  If the other job comes through I may very well miss the easy working life as the King of the K-16 Multi-Use Learning Facility.

The company I work for sent me this nifty name tag. It’s the little things that matter. Like spelling my damn name correctly.

It occurs to me I’ve not worn a name tag since I was an 18 year old convenience store clerk.  That job was somewhat more challenging in that I worked graveyard shift and occasionally got robbed.  Well, once I got robbed then I quit*.  I decided $2.00 per hour wasn’t enough to put up with threats to kill me if I didn’t hand over the cash.  Robbers can’t get past base security at K-16 though, so I’m golden.

*Actually I quit a couple of days later when the company wanted to give ME a polygraph to see if the robbery had been an inside job.  They were suspicious because I had failed to do a cash drop and had $60. in the cash drawer as opposed to the mandated maximum of $30.  I told them fuck you very much.  Literally.

Imagine being born and raised in the U.S.A.  You work your way through the public education system and earn a degree from the University of Washington.  Like many young people you find yourself saddled with student loan debt and working in a dead end job.  So you see an advertisement recruiting folks to teach English in Korea and figure why not?

And so began the nightmare for Young Jin Chun.  When he applied to Korean immigration for an extension of his employment visa he was told he was not eligible because he was already a Korean citizen.  Although Chun’s parents had immigrated to the US several years before he was born, someone (it is not clear who) had his name added to the family register in Korea.  And as far as the Korean government is concerned, that makes you a bonafide Korean.  Chun didn’t think it was that big a deal until he received notice that he was being drafted into the ROK army. That got his attention!

Chun did everything a reasonable person would do to rectify this error, gathering all his records to demonstrate he was as American as an apple pie.  The American embassy in Seoul told him “it’s not our problem”.  The Korean consulate in the USA said he was past the age to renounce his Korean citizenship.  And so it came to pass that he was neatly boxed in by two uncaring governmental bureaucracies.

Chun’s passport was blocked preventing him from leaving Korea.  In desperation he enlisted in the U.S. Army, but as he was preparing to board the aircraft at Osan Air Force Base for basic training at Fort Jackson, SC, Korean immigration nabbed him and shortly thereafter he found himself a 27 year old American conscript in the Korean army.  A Korean soldier who didn’t speak Korean or even like Korean food.

You can read this news account which provides more detail on the events leading up to this insane situation.  Or better yet, you can purchase Chun’s book ($2.99 for the Kindle version at Amazon) and read the sad and sometimes funny account of his life in the Korean military.  That’s what I did and it’s a good read.  After surviving basic training, he was assigned as a linguist with the Second ROK Army in Daegu.  I had to laugh at his account of being called to interpret a meeting between American and Korean Army officers.  He finally had to tell the Americans “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what he’s saying either”.  And when his commanding officer found out about the interview he gave to the Seattle newspaper (linked above) he was on everyone’s shit list.  How bad was it?  So bad that he volunteered to deploy to Afghanistan!  Anyway, read the book.

I was talking to a co-worker who spent many years with the State Department about Young Chun’s adventure and he was incredulous.  At first, he thought the story was made up, but I assured him it was not.  He agreed the U.S. embassy in Seoul is next to worthless, but felt the American government could have and should have intervened on his behalf.  And last night I recounted the tale to a Korean-American friend (also born in the USA) who came to Korea around the same time as Chun and he told me the same thing had almost happened to him.  His father was apparently well-connected with Korean government officials and managed to get him exempted from Korean military service.

And I guess that’s pretty much how the world works–it’s not who you are but who you know.  Chun did survive his adventure at least and I suppose it all turned out as best as could be expected.  I understand he is still living and working in Korea and his Korean language skills have improved immensely.  So there’s that.

A friend of mine here in Korea is getting married next month.  He was shocked to discover that wedding gowns in Korea cost several million won to purchase.  Even a one-day rental was exorbitantly priced.  Seeing as how this is the 21st century and all he checked out some U.S. based websites and found an appropriate dress for half the cost of a rental.  He asked if he could have the gown shipped to my Army Post Office (APO) address and of course I agreed.

As my friend noted on his Facebook page the dress has had quite a journey:

Total distance traveled to arrive in Seoul: 18,950km

Total distance from where it was made to Seoul: 907km

Turns out the wedding gown was manufactured in China, shipped to the U.S., and then mailed back to Korea.  I was proud to carry the package its final 1km or so from the Yongsan post office to Samgakji station where I handed it off to the blushing bride to be.

All in a days work.

Oh, an interesting footnote is that shortly after the nuptials my pal and his wife will be moving back to the USA.  Columbia, SC in fact.  He’ll be attending USC and I imagine in his spare time he’ll get to do some ass kicking in the dart league I founded there.  Small world, eh?

It is down right cold today.  And although I didn’t have to rise at o’dark-thirty for work, I still found myself commuting to Yongsan Garrison this morning.

Since Jee Yeun had to go to Soonchunhwang hospital for blood work, we took the 110A bus together. That Korean woman seated behind us did a nice little photo bomb, intentional or not.

Back in the day I went to a few bars that some folks considered “meat markets”. So, I enjoyed seeing the “welcome to the meat market” sign on the bus ride this morning.

Crappy photography aside, I did have a serious mission to attend to at the Army base this today.  Three months into my employment with the Education Center I still have not managed to acquire access to the Army computer network.  The big boss told me yesterday to “git ‘er done”, hence necessitating spending the day off in the workplace.

To make a boring story short, I eventually found a way to digitally sign a required form and submit it to my boss using my gmail.  Of course, there were some mistakes oversights on my part that require correction.  However once you sign the form digitally it cannot be altered.  Which means tomorrow I’ll spend part of my work day replicating what I managed to accomplish in three hours today.  At least I’ll be getting paid for it.

In other news, more dart drama last night although this time it did not involve me.  Having used my entire allocation of drama already, I’m not going to be sucked into this battle. Suffice to say it took the fun out of an otherwise pleasant evening in which I threw relatively well, although we lost the match by one point.

What else?  I purchased a new VPN provider service so that I might enjoy my Netflix and Amazon Prime TV and movies here in Korea.  I went with IPVanish, which seems to work well (meaning fast) so now i have yet another way to keep myself entertained.

And that dear reader is where things stand as of now.  Thanks for checking in.

Goin’ down…

The big event of this day that is now drawing to a close was my journey to the commissary to restock the larders.  Turns out Saturday afternoon was not my best decision.  The commissary itself was fine, didn’t even have to wait in line for a checker.  And when I exited the store there was a taxi waiting for a fare.  So, I gave him one to Ichon station.  And that’s when it got dicey.  The first train to come by was jammed packed, almost like morning rush hour.  I saw there was another train coming in four minutes, so I opted for that one.  Alas, it was every bit as full as the preceding train.  So with a backpack full of canned goods, a freezer bag, and a large re-usable shopping bag I squeezed on in.  And wound up standing for the entire trip.  Now, I could have just had the taxi carry me all the way to Gireum I suppose, but for some reason I just can’t bring myself to spend W20,000 to carry groceries home.  Although I have no problem dropping that much (or more) at the bar on darts night.  Priorities.

Speaking of darts, I threw some lousy drunken darts last night.  It was a bit of a fiasco, as I got caught “crop dusting” more than once.  I was too drunk to be embarrassed at the time, but was full of regrets this morning.

Anyway, the over-indulgence seems to be a recurring issue on Friday nights.  The problem being I finish work at 4:00 and have no where to go except the bar to await the 7:30 start of the tourney.  So, that’s three or four beers before I even start playing, and truthfully three or four ought to be my limit period.  You’d think at my age I would have learned the value of moderation.  Well, I will try to do better in the future.

Alrighty then, let’s call it a night.

Well, it’s been awhile since I last posted, and if you make it to the end of this one you will know why.

It was back to the dentist on Saturday to rebuild and prepare the tooth that was subjected to a root canal for a permanent crown.  That entailed nearly two hours in the chair which was pretty much the extent of my tolerance level.  Taking the mold for the crown proved problematic because the construction work on the tooth left my gums bleeding profusely. She eventually finished with the mold and inserted a temporary crown.  And then abandoned me for another patient.  After about ten minutes of sitting there alone, I got up, removed my bib, and made my way up front.  I was given two options on the crown, W700,000 for the Cadillac of crowns, or W450,000 for the Chevy.  Hell, at my age I expect the cheap(er) crown will last a lifetime.  At least that’s the gamble I’m taking.

All that stuff going down in my mouth left me sore for a couple of days, but manageable enough with aspirin.  And just about the time my mouth stopped hurting, some pain in my right knee flared up.  I’ve not experienced joint issues but it is frankly one of the things I fear.  My lifestyle necessarily requires climbing multiple flights of stairs on a regular basis to access the drinking darting establishments I frequent.  Jee Yeun (bless her heart) went on the internet and announced that all the extra poundage I’m carrying around my middle is stressing my knees.  So in addition to the pain, I’ve had to endure her beseeching me to exercise.  Oh well, for what it is worth after my morning commute today (which does involve a fair amount of walking) the pain in the knee went away.  So maybe the doo doo alluded to in the title of the post is not so deep after all.  We’ll see.

What else?  Well, I came across this:

One of my petty pet peeves about the sidewalks of Itaewon is Korean pedestrians with no sense of situation awareness. The other night I encountered three young women walking side-by-side with their arms intertwined. Getting past them was like breaching the Berlin wall. And yes, if that’s my biggest gripe about Seoul city life things must be pretty good.

Speaking of gripes, I came across this article in the Korea Observer entitled Expats Speak Out: What Seoul Needs.  The responses ran the usual gauntlet–traffic laws should be enforced “people in France fear the police”; you should have to pay to drive a vehicle into the city “like they do in London”; Seoul should be multilingual (meaning English) “Fine businesses who are not accessible because of language”; more trash cans, free Korean lessons, less racism, etc. etc.

Alright, well I’m not going to rag on those quoted too much because they were responding to a survey the city initiated as part of its quest to become a “global city”.  I did leave this comment on the article:

I’m sure all the survey responses were made with the best of intentions, but really I couldn’t help but be reminded of the tendency of some folks to leave their country of birth looking for something new and different, and then they set about trying to make it more like home.

What I love about Seoul is its quirkiness and organized chaos. Sure, things could be better I suppose but heaven forbid it becomes homogenized and vanilla like the country I fled (USA).

Moving along to things I love about Korea, high on my list is the beautiful women outstanding food.  Last night we enjoyed this:

Right downstairs from my apartment building is a place that features beef. All the meat pictured is a mere W39,000. Sure, you’ve got to cook it yourself, but that’s part of the fun. Just ask Jee Yeun!

Another thing I like is the subway system.  There is even a hierarchy of seating preferences:

Now, when I find myself seated in the “red zone” (i.e. middle seats) I’ve observed a certain reluctance of some Koreans to sit beside me. It’s amusing that some folks prefer to stand than to squeeze in beside the big, burly, scary waegook. Heh, more room for me!

Now, maybe I’m just easily entertained but I find the subway advertisements amusing. Like this one:

Inbred dog or a Korean corndog. You decide.

Lest you think I’ve unfairly maligned the Korea people whom I actually admire (notwithstanding how they walk, don’t sit, and that whole eating dog thing) let me relate a small kindness that occurred when I exited the train at Gireum station today.  I was carrying 24 cans of diet Coke in my backpack, plus an 11 piece box of Popeye’s chicken and two Whopper Jr.’s.  Well, the backpack was heavy and I was struggling to get the strap over my left shoulder.  An ajussi passing by without saying a word helped pull it up onto my back.  That earned him a hearty “kamsamnida!” and prominent mention in this post.

Finally (ah, there’s a word you’ve been waiting for I reckon), regular readers may recall that I’ve been angling for a position with my old organization.  It would be a sweet gig for me, doing work I know and enjoy.  The woman who would be my boss has her doubts however, so last week I did a one hour sit down with her to try and alleviate whatever concerns she may be entertaining.  I thought the meeting went well.  For my part, I was actually quite impressed with her–smart and motivated.  I hope that I left a similar impression on her, but although she promised to let me know her decision in a “couple of days” a week has gone by with no word.  I’m trying not to read too much into that, but at the same time I’m steeling myself for possible rejection.

Whatever happens I’ll be okay of course.  Unless I blow out my knee.