Even Palms are Lonely in Their Swaying Beauty
~
2003.10.28 23:50 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Suwon, Republic of Korea
Hey everyone,
There's an absolute reality to the fact that there truly, really isn't any sunshine when you're gone, anytime, you go away.
Life in Korea is alright. Good times, new friends, rediscovered friendships and the love of children's smiles make it all worthwhile. Doubly, I have discovered my respect for all the teachers that have ever taught my wrangly ass. What a shit student I was. (And will, with any luck, continue to be).
There's a place between a Kerouac "pop" and Hemingway's "ahhhh."
I'm there.
What to say about a place where the car's names are odd (what kind of name is "Wusso"?), traffic lights are optional and vendors sautee silk worms in woks by the side of the road? Korea's a pretty alright place nonetheless. I am coming to terms with life in suburbia -- and my district's quite that. Full of bored housewives, out-of-work bricklayers and commuters galore, it has it's charm, but as we all know, charm only gets you so far.
On a recent mission to find the quickest, most affordable route to downtown Seoul, I am proud to announce that I can now make it there in under 90 minutes for less than three whole dollars. To boot, thanks to friends living in the better areas of Seoul, I've come across a great neighbourhood, housing Hongik University -- the city's arts school and it's outwardly-focussed community of students, activists, craftspeople and late-night clubs. Highlighting the calendar's weekends has become my favourite pastime.
That's it for now, so be cool my fam, my friends, and my loves (lovers?). I truly have nothing but respect, love and want for all of you.
If you haven't checked out my marginally-educational-but-largely-lame Web log (or "blog"), it's @ www.thelastofthepiscean.blogspot.com. Thanks. Bookmark it if you like it.
With headnods, handshakes and happy, two-pats-on-the-back-but-"he-kinda-holds-you-uncomfortably-for, like, too-long-y'know" hugs.
Be cool and stay warm. From here to there,
S*
P.S. "What do you think?"
"I don't know. Cute. But kinda weird."
P.P.S. I wrote a good part of this message from a bar. I guess that some things never change.
Fave current track(s): "Dry The Rain" - The Beta Band
Current read(s) in progress: "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" - Robert M. Persig
2003.10.28 23:50 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Suwon, Republic of Korea
Hey everyone,
There's an absolute reality to the fact that there truly, really isn't any sunshine when you're gone, anytime, you go away.
Life in Korea is alright. Good times, new friends, rediscovered friendships and the love of children's smiles make it all worthwhile. Doubly, I have discovered my respect for all the teachers that have ever taught my wrangly ass. What a shit student I was. (And will, with any luck, continue to be).
There's a place between a Kerouac "pop" and Hemingway's "ahhhh."
I'm there.
What to say about a place where the car's names are odd (what kind of name is "Wusso"?), traffic lights are optional and vendors sautee silk worms in woks by the side of the road? Korea's a pretty alright place nonetheless. I am coming to terms with life in suburbia -- and my district's quite that. Full of bored housewives, out-of-work bricklayers and commuters galore, it has it's charm, but as we all know, charm only gets you so far.
On a recent mission to find the quickest, most affordable route to downtown Seoul, I am proud to announce that I can now make it there in under 90 minutes for less than three whole dollars. To boot, thanks to friends living in the better areas of Seoul, I've come across a great neighbourhood, housing Hongik University -- the city's arts school and it's outwardly-focussed community of students, activists, craftspeople and late-night clubs. Highlighting the calendar's weekends has become my favourite pastime.
That's it for now, so be cool my fam, my friends, and my loves (lovers?). I truly have nothing but respect, love and want for all of you.
If you haven't checked out my marginally-educational-but-largely-lame Web log (or "blog"), it's @ www.thelastofthepiscean.blogspot.com. Thanks. Bookmark it if you like it.
With headnods, handshakes and happy, two-pats-on-the-back-but-"he-kinda-holds-you-uncomfortably-for, like, too-long-y'know" hugs.
Be cool and stay warm. From here to there,
S*
P.S. "What do you think?"
"I don't know. Cute. But kinda weird."
P.P.S. I wrote a good part of this message from a bar. I guess that some things never change.
Fave current track(s): "Dry The Rain" - The Beta Band
Current read(s) in progress: "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" - Robert M. Persig
Osaka, Japan: 57 Hours of Turbulence
~
2003.10.20 14:30 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Osaka, Japan
I landed at Kansai International Airport, a short jaunt from Incheon, around noon on Saturday, not so bright eyed or bushy tailed thanks to a late Friday night of Beck's, pails of seafood and a fag too many. Come morning, my throat was killing me, I was dehydrated, tired and couldn't find a decently-priced bit of food in the entire place. I gobbled down the shrimp and asparagus tips on the plane, accompanied by unknown Oriental delights - some good, others washed away with a few cans of beer, green tea and the most trusted of cureall bevvies, OJ. I had asked for six whole grapefruits but the co-pilot was hungry and he'd dipped into my stash. Although it wasn't yet noon, we were 35,000 feet in the air and those bastards were into that vile shit already. The stewardess looked at me funny, I knew she had answers. But would she talk?
Osaka's airport carries its Japanese name, Kansai, and is built on an island of slowly sinking landfill. A mighty marvel of nothing, really. Overpriced rail connects it to the mailand, intertwining with no less than three other rail systems. If I had known that the complications were only beginning, I would have fled in panic. Japan's not for the weak, or the poor for that matter. It's not for those who can't swim and for those who just can't get along. Nippon is for the meek. It is a land of sturdy, stoic automatons.
Asleep on a train, maps and tourist information splattered all over me like a fly squashed on a wall, I woke up, overdue, having missed my stop. Mind you, getting glimpses of the wrong place can say a lot about somewhere and it's people. Re-routed, I wandered onto streets overcrowded with the homeless, selling broken garbage and half-read newspapers stolen from abandoned factories and hotel lobbies. Dirty-soled and awash in something akin to misery, I hobbled off to an oasis of a hotel, plucked right out of middle-class America and dropped like a fresh eunuch onto skid row Asia.
By then, there was nothing to do but wander out into the darkened rails and roads of Kansai and in doing so, embrace the new air, the quiet breeze and the smell of ramen stands, dotting the landscape. It wasn't Eden, but Dante surely had dropped in once or twice. Straggling, more or less lost, along the overbearing neon backstreets, I met Paul. He'd been in Japan too long he said, and the honeymoon was long over. He took me for a beer: first a British pub, then downstairs to a rock joint where live bands of misfits and disenfranchised shorthairs played covers from a more civilized time in rock n' roll. They wailed while the Asahi fell through us like dew over dandelions and we were happy to be alive and to have met. On a tip to see "friends of friends" rocking out across town, we walked past lines of school girls waiting, pamphlets and the day's purchases in hand, eager to use their fake IDs and find a seat in the not-so-hottest clubs.
Lacking the means for a ride in the Mercedes' above ground, we agreed to be commoners and ride the rails, below the surface, like the undercurrent scum we so obviously were. Paul suggested we skip the formalities of the turnstyle and hit the train running, but his skim through the gate turned into my hopping it and without fail, a blue-topped high-school dropout chased us as we tried, in vain, to pry open the parting train's doors. With a brisk word and a menacing glance, we were escorted out of the station, the doors held open smiling and wide. Resurfaced, we laughed like death row inmates, excited at the brisk buzz of alcohol, being the randomly freaked-out Saturday night good 'ol gaijins that we were -- grinning wide on the streets of Nippon.
We pattered around a few more places, made passes at those who would look, and Paul (having previously introduced me to the local head shops) now entertaining the company of walruses, was nowhere near the edge of the desert but had the eggman fast on his trail. It was promising to be a ride of an evening, and so far, it had been just that. Traipsing to three more less-than-fine establishments, we tackled more drinks as the cactus played mind games with Paul and was thoroughly and visibly gaining on my Aussie partner in arms. Ending up in the worst of Yankee cultural exports, we found a new place and danced to overplayed tunes, spiralling behind short skirts, tall boots and the smell of a million parties gone before us, sticking to the floors, loving the offering. Diluted, dilated and disillusioned, the party and it's newfound crew of eccentrics rallied a cry and scoured the streets in search of the after party which came complete with its wave of hostesses fresh off the job from laughing at the business crowd's inside jokes and doing whatever else payed the rent. Before long, clothes started coming off and before we knew it we were the little leftover indians, with only two of us left standing.
Dramatically, I hobbled like only a true fish can, staggering cross-current against the waves of people heading to particular nowheres on a Sunday morning at 8 a.m. And if I looked half as raked as I felt, it was surely fear I could see in their eyes. They knew where I'd been, but remained curious as to what I'd seen. I wasn't about to let them know. They too, were holding all the grapefruit but I was holding the cards.
As reality set in, much later the next day, it came to my attention that I may not have done one of two things: either I'd managed my funds like a schoolboy at recess stunned by neon, or I'd grossly miscalculated the value of the Yen versus all available forms of barter. It may even have been a combination of the two, but I vowed to put the past behind me and go out in search of quarter: the ATM.
Beyond the wealth and aesthetic film that layers Japan, all that remains is a hollow shell of deep, meaningless bows -- aimed quite aptly at distraction. Without financial or linguistic success, I yammered on about everything, but nothing, to my hosts. Apparently, politeness only puts so much in your pocket, while the sum remainder ends up on the streets selling broken toasters and last Thursday's rifled menus. A poor situation went downhill and got worse with the passing of the minute hand to the hour, seemlingly demanding that every new tick-tock, tick-tock liberate me of more funds.
I awoke Monday morning to thoughts of my primary intent behind this stint -- paying for the visa. But how? Was there no communication in this country? Would these few coins convince them all that I wasn't scum? I put my mind at ease, drew a long bath, dipped into the cold then off to the sauna, to think. To think. Monday seemed to have pulled itself out of the gutter, rising onto it's ugly hind legs only to deliver a short, sharp, swift kick in the gut. Winded and thoroughly unnerved by the onslaught of banks that refused to convert Won, contact my credit card companies or speak English, I let the rising sun's rays temporarily blind me, and awoke -- like from a dream -- to the happy sounds of jingling consulate doorways, saying "yes" to the emergency request of funds. For once in nearly sixty hours, the promise of leaving Japan alive was appearing to come true.
The flight from Kansai was as excessive as the first. As a consolation, the grapefruits became clementines and the vitamin C was a welcome change from the foul and tattered personal plastic that was Osaka. A place only to be revisited, armed to the teeth.
S*
Fave current track(s): "Tenor Man" - The Greyboy Allstars
Current read(s) in progress: "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" - Robert M. Persig
2003.10.20 14:30 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Osaka, Japan
I landed at Kansai International Airport, a short jaunt from Incheon, around noon on Saturday, not so bright eyed or bushy tailed thanks to a late Friday night of Beck's, pails of seafood and a fag too many. Come morning, my throat was killing me, I was dehydrated, tired and couldn't find a decently-priced bit of food in the entire place. I gobbled down the shrimp and asparagus tips on the plane, accompanied by unknown Oriental delights - some good, others washed away with a few cans of beer, green tea and the most trusted of cureall bevvies, OJ. I had asked for six whole grapefruits but the co-pilot was hungry and he'd dipped into my stash. Although it wasn't yet noon, we were 35,000 feet in the air and those bastards were into that vile shit already. The stewardess looked at me funny, I knew she had answers. But would she talk?
Osaka's airport carries its Japanese name, Kansai, and is built on an island of slowly sinking landfill. A mighty marvel of nothing, really. Overpriced rail connects it to the mailand, intertwining with no less than three other rail systems. If I had known that the complications were only beginning, I would have fled in panic. Japan's not for the weak, or the poor for that matter. It's not for those who can't swim and for those who just can't get along. Nippon is for the meek. It is a land of sturdy, stoic automatons.
Asleep on a train, maps and tourist information splattered all over me like a fly squashed on a wall, I woke up, overdue, having missed my stop. Mind you, getting glimpses of the wrong place can say a lot about somewhere and it's people. Re-routed, I wandered onto streets overcrowded with the homeless, selling broken garbage and half-read newspapers stolen from abandoned factories and hotel lobbies. Dirty-soled and awash in something akin to misery, I hobbled off to an oasis of a hotel, plucked right out of middle-class America and dropped like a fresh eunuch onto skid row Asia.
By then, there was nothing to do but wander out into the darkened rails and roads of Kansai and in doing so, embrace the new air, the quiet breeze and the smell of ramen stands, dotting the landscape. It wasn't Eden, but Dante surely had dropped in once or twice. Straggling, more or less lost, along the overbearing neon backstreets, I met Paul. He'd been in Japan too long he said, and the honeymoon was long over. He took me for a beer: first a British pub, then downstairs to a rock joint where live bands of misfits and disenfranchised shorthairs played covers from a more civilized time in rock n' roll. They wailed while the Asahi fell through us like dew over dandelions and we were happy to be alive and to have met. On a tip to see "friends of friends" rocking out across town, we walked past lines of school girls waiting, pamphlets and the day's purchases in hand, eager to use their fake IDs and find a seat in the not-so-hottest clubs.
Lacking the means for a ride in the Mercedes' above ground, we agreed to be commoners and ride the rails, below the surface, like the undercurrent scum we so obviously were. Paul suggested we skip the formalities of the turnstyle and hit the train running, but his skim through the gate turned into my hopping it and without fail, a blue-topped high-school dropout chased us as we tried, in vain, to pry open the parting train's doors. With a brisk word and a menacing glance, we were escorted out of the station, the doors held open smiling and wide. Resurfaced, we laughed like death row inmates, excited at the brisk buzz of alcohol, being the randomly freaked-out Saturday night good 'ol gaijins that we were -- grinning wide on the streets of Nippon.
We pattered around a few more places, made passes at those who would look, and Paul (having previously introduced me to the local head shops) now entertaining the company of walruses, was nowhere near the edge of the desert but had the eggman fast on his trail. It was promising to be a ride of an evening, and so far, it had been just that. Traipsing to three more less-than-fine establishments, we tackled more drinks as the cactus played mind games with Paul and was thoroughly and visibly gaining on my Aussie partner in arms. Ending up in the worst of Yankee cultural exports, we found a new place and danced to overplayed tunes, spiralling behind short skirts, tall boots and the smell of a million parties gone before us, sticking to the floors, loving the offering. Diluted, dilated and disillusioned, the party and it's newfound crew of eccentrics rallied a cry and scoured the streets in search of the after party which came complete with its wave of hostesses fresh off the job from laughing at the business crowd's inside jokes and doing whatever else payed the rent. Before long, clothes started coming off and before we knew it we were the little leftover indians, with only two of us left standing.
Dramatically, I hobbled like only a true fish can, staggering cross-current against the waves of people heading to particular nowheres on a Sunday morning at 8 a.m. And if I looked half as raked as I felt, it was surely fear I could see in their eyes. They knew where I'd been, but remained curious as to what I'd seen. I wasn't about to let them know. They too, were holding all the grapefruit but I was holding the cards.
As reality set in, much later the next day, it came to my attention that I may not have done one of two things: either I'd managed my funds like a schoolboy at recess stunned by neon, or I'd grossly miscalculated the value of the Yen versus all available forms of barter. It may even have been a combination of the two, but I vowed to put the past behind me and go out in search of quarter: the ATM.
Beyond the wealth and aesthetic film that layers Japan, all that remains is a hollow shell of deep, meaningless bows -- aimed quite aptly at distraction. Without financial or linguistic success, I yammered on about everything, but nothing, to my hosts. Apparently, politeness only puts so much in your pocket, while the sum remainder ends up on the streets selling broken toasters and last Thursday's rifled menus. A poor situation went downhill and got worse with the passing of the minute hand to the hour, seemlingly demanding that every new tick-tock, tick-tock liberate me of more funds.
I awoke Monday morning to thoughts of my primary intent behind this stint -- paying for the visa. But how? Was there no communication in this country? Would these few coins convince them all that I wasn't scum? I put my mind at ease, drew a long bath, dipped into the cold then off to the sauna, to think. To think. Monday seemed to have pulled itself out of the gutter, rising onto it's ugly hind legs only to deliver a short, sharp, swift kick in the gut. Winded and thoroughly unnerved by the onslaught of banks that refused to convert Won, contact my credit card companies or speak English, I let the rising sun's rays temporarily blind me, and awoke -- like from a dream -- to the happy sounds of jingling consulate doorways, saying "yes" to the emergency request of funds. For once in nearly sixty hours, the promise of leaving Japan alive was appearing to come true.
The flight from Kansai was as excessive as the first. As a consolation, the grapefruits became clementines and the vitamin C was a welcome change from the foul and tattered personal plastic that was Osaka. A place only to be revisited, armed to the teeth.
S*
Fave current track(s): "Tenor Man" - The Greyboy Allstars
Current read(s) in progress: "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" - Robert M. Persig
On Plants, Pets and Soju
~
2003.10.16 00:33 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Suwon, Republic of Korea
Hey everyone, Esstar here, keeping my head up and my powder dry, still in Suwon, South Korea. First, let me say that I truly appreciate that many of you are reading these posts to, I hope, some enjoyment. The following are, again, topics of common response and interest. (I've been meaning to collect, compose and post these paragraphs for some time now). Please, enjoy at your leisure.
iv. Air Quality and Plants:
The greater Seoul area (I live in the suburb of Suwon which, via a short taxi ride and a long metro ride, can be reached between 90 and 120 minutes) has rather poor air quality. Although not as numerous as Western films and news reports would have us believe, many Koreans do -- in fact -- wear mouth masks while strolling about, riding the metro, bicycling or as they scoot to and fro on their mopeds.
Naturally -- coming from my apartment in Ottawa, containing no less than a dozen plants -- it took some time to adjust. Nonetheless, I have an air conditioner that serves as a means to cool and freshen my apartment's environment. If I don't leave it on perpetually, the air seems to stale immediately. After a long day at work, it proves to be a rather unpleasant welcome. As such, I quickly began the hunt for nice, affordable plants.
Oddly for a country whose vegetation is abundant and lush, plants are sold as very dainty affairs: they're potted in considerably extravagant containers (beautiful ceramics, finsihed wood and, of course, terra cotta -- thus driving up prices). The latest count totals me at five: I've bought and re-potted two small ivy; a cluster of miniature bamboo shoots; and two others that I can't name, but which I assure do the trick. Needless to say, I really notice the increased air purity and oxygen levels. As I also left my Norfolk Pine and fig tree in Ottawa, I am currently in the market for a small tree of sorts. Mind you, most of the ones I'm casing are upwards of 30,000 Won. A problem? Yes. An insurmountable one? No.
v. Food, Prices and Soju: Korean Fire Water
As far as food costs I'm finding the oddest price differences here: some fruit and vegetables are extremely cheap while others are practically inaccessible. Canned goods vary quite a bit in price, but most of them have to be cleared of the dust before use -- Koreans prefer their eats as fresh as possible. Fresh cuts of meat including beef, chicken and pork are sensibly priced, but the incredible variety of seafood has to be witnessed to be believed.
Of course, I feel like such a fuddy-duddied tourist when I turn my nose at the range of exotic seafood scents. Unfortunately for me, I've come to the wrong end of the planet to avoid foods of the "soft, squishy and mysterious" variety. Of late, I have been -- albeit slowly -- trying new treats from the sea. Last Friday night, a group of foreigners were treated to a heap of fresh squirming shrimp, steamed live over a gas range -- the latter propped up as the centerpiece of our dining experience. Once cooked and relieved of their heads, legs, innards and tails we devoured them like it was our job. A royal banquet!
Our hosts, noticing our delight, insisted that we be served a heaping pail (yes, a pail) of assorted clams, mussels, snails and cockles to name what I could recognize. At first thought, I was curious why I was being handed a single white glove ... as it turns out, since the shellfish were shucked then left to cook, meat up, in their own juices over a grate of coals, they would naturally be hot. Naturally, I felt to be again, the tourist. At any rate, if you have yet to try freshly grilled shellfish, please regale your senses. Instructions: buy any form of grill and a net then make a beeline for the nearest coast. Catch, grill, chomp. Black ties and chopsticks are optional. Oh, and as for the white gloves, use tongs to place the piping hot treats in your palm, shell side down, pluck out the goods, smile, and toss the empty carcass over your shoulder. Nothing says "sucks to be a mollusc" quite like it.
At the end of the day most consumer goods I've purchased have been similarly priced to Canadian goods. On the other hand, any rice product or common vegetalbe/root/herb is dirt-cheap (hot chillies, which permeate so many Korean dishes, for example).
Of note is also how some services are incredibly low-priced. A haircut ran me 8,000 Won which translates to somewhere slightly under $9 -- a third of what I'd expect to pay at home.
Although I can speculate to a degree, I am unfornately not too good at macroeconomy; as such, I suspect others might be more aptly versed to fill us all in on why these difference price structures exist. For the time being, I'll do my best to hunt down what deals I can. Unfortunately, I have to report that, any way you cut it, beer is still the same price here. Luckily, "soju" is ludicrously cheap. Vile, but cheap.
Ah, soju, how I love thee, but where to begin? I'll write about what I know, because what I remember isn't much. Soju is described by its aficionados (and their number is ample) as "Korean Wine." It is sometimes fruit flavoured and pleasantly decieving, but is most often clear and thus strong smelling. Bottles of soju can be purchased in a variety of sizes but is most commonly found in 500 mL format. What's more, to illustrate how some cultures are far more advanced than us, soju can even be purchased in handy, lunchbox-sized ... wait for it ... tetra packs! Recess never tasted so good.
Did I mention that it packs a 22% punch? And the fact that it's mainly consumed in shooter format? To boot, it is in fact rude to refuse a shot of soju if offered by your host; especially if the latter is female, older, a co-worker or, well, Korean. I hope everyone's getting the picture. Nightly, businessmen can be seen stumbling along Korean streets, hand in hand with their officemates, dragging their sorry briefcases and slurring asses behind them. An interesting, but pitiful sight. Stories abound of fights, vomitting and persons passed out in the middle of the street, helpless, holding up traffic for all to bear.
That's the darker side of the stuff, but in moderation (or a tad more...), fun times are promised. Luckily for me, I prefer beer to wash it all down, so I'll do just fine. Let me end the soju stories at that, but I can somehow foretell they'll rear up their ugly head sometime in the very near future.
vi: Pets
Some of the oddest things become uber-luxury items in other cultures: a fine example of social dyslexia is how dogs are considered gods. They're pampered to a fault and kept almost as babies. Consequentially, animal items (food, toys, garments) are very highly priced. Comparatively, plants aren't the only ones made pretty. Marlene Copeland could easily develop a cult following in a few short days, if she ever broadcasted her terrible pet show over here. Dogs (and specifically dogs) are dyed, babied, and kept at a miniature stature. Big dogs are largely unpopular and, to date, I've only seen one in total. People strut around, carrying their pups, dressing them up with little shirts, booties and even hats. Fucked up. Once I get a digital camera, you'll all flip your lid.
On the subject of cats, they are, for the most part -- left to get dirty, ratty, thin and all-around unkempt. Mind you, watching kittens wrestle and tackle each other will always strike a soft chord in my heart, wherever I travel. I actually sat for twenty minutes to watch two of them do that "stalk n' tackle" thing kittens do and it was priceless. Some people like to watch plastic bags fight the breeze, but I dig cats.
O.k., amigos, amigas, strangers and neighbours, I have run out of quasi-informative things to say, except that I wish you all well in whatever you're up to these days. I don't know about Canada, but the nights are getting chilly in Korea so bundle up, find someone to love and hold on tight.
With hugs, headnods, handshakes and high-fives from here to there, I miss you all.
S*
Fave current track(s): "Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl" - Broken Social Scene
Current read(s) in progress: "Korea" - Lonely Planet, "The New Yorker" magazine
2003.10.16 00:33 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Suwon, Republic of Korea
Hey everyone, Esstar here, keeping my head up and my powder dry, still in Suwon, South Korea. First, let me say that I truly appreciate that many of you are reading these posts to, I hope, some enjoyment. The following are, again, topics of common response and interest. (I've been meaning to collect, compose and post these paragraphs for some time now). Please, enjoy at your leisure.
iv. Air Quality and Plants:
The greater Seoul area (I live in the suburb of Suwon which, via a short taxi ride and a long metro ride, can be reached between 90 and 120 minutes) has rather poor air quality. Although not as numerous as Western films and news reports would have us believe, many Koreans do -- in fact -- wear mouth masks while strolling about, riding the metro, bicycling or as they scoot to and fro on their mopeds.
Naturally -- coming from my apartment in Ottawa, containing no less than a dozen plants -- it took some time to adjust. Nonetheless, I have an air conditioner that serves as a means to cool and freshen my apartment's environment. If I don't leave it on perpetually, the air seems to stale immediately. After a long day at work, it proves to be a rather unpleasant welcome. As such, I quickly began the hunt for nice, affordable plants.
Oddly for a country whose vegetation is abundant and lush, plants are sold as very dainty affairs: they're potted in considerably extravagant containers (beautiful ceramics, finsihed wood and, of course, terra cotta -- thus driving up prices). The latest count totals me at five: I've bought and re-potted two small ivy; a cluster of miniature bamboo shoots; and two others that I can't name, but which I assure do the trick. Needless to say, I really notice the increased air purity and oxygen levels. As I also left my Norfolk Pine and fig tree in Ottawa, I am currently in the market for a small tree of sorts. Mind you, most of the ones I'm casing are upwards of 30,000 Won. A problem? Yes. An insurmountable one? No.
v. Food, Prices and Soju: Korean Fire Water
As far as food costs I'm finding the oddest price differences here: some fruit and vegetables are extremely cheap while others are practically inaccessible. Canned goods vary quite a bit in price, but most of them have to be cleared of the dust before use -- Koreans prefer their eats as fresh as possible. Fresh cuts of meat including beef, chicken and pork are sensibly priced, but the incredible variety of seafood has to be witnessed to be believed.
Of course, I feel like such a fuddy-duddied tourist when I turn my nose at the range of exotic seafood scents. Unfortunately for me, I've come to the wrong end of the planet to avoid foods of the "soft, squishy and mysterious" variety. Of late, I have been -- albeit slowly -- trying new treats from the sea. Last Friday night, a group of foreigners were treated to a heap of fresh squirming shrimp, steamed live over a gas range -- the latter propped up as the centerpiece of our dining experience. Once cooked and relieved of their heads, legs, innards and tails we devoured them like it was our job. A royal banquet!
Our hosts, noticing our delight, insisted that we be served a heaping pail (yes, a pail) of assorted clams, mussels, snails and cockles to name what I could recognize. At first thought, I was curious why I was being handed a single white glove ... as it turns out, since the shellfish were shucked then left to cook, meat up, in their own juices over a grate of coals, they would naturally be hot. Naturally, I felt to be again, the tourist. At any rate, if you have yet to try freshly grilled shellfish, please regale your senses. Instructions: buy any form of grill and a net then make a beeline for the nearest coast. Catch, grill, chomp. Black ties and chopsticks are optional. Oh, and as for the white gloves, use tongs to place the piping hot treats in your palm, shell side down, pluck out the goods, smile, and toss the empty carcass over your shoulder. Nothing says "sucks to be a mollusc" quite like it.
At the end of the day most consumer goods I've purchased have been similarly priced to Canadian goods. On the other hand, any rice product or common vegetalbe/root/herb is dirt-cheap (hot chillies, which permeate so many Korean dishes, for example).
Of note is also how some services are incredibly low-priced. A haircut ran me 8,000 Won which translates to somewhere slightly under $9 -- a third of what I'd expect to pay at home.
Although I can speculate to a degree, I am unfornately not too good at macroeconomy; as such, I suspect others might be more aptly versed to fill us all in on why these difference price structures exist. For the time being, I'll do my best to hunt down what deals I can. Unfortunately, I have to report that, any way you cut it, beer is still the same price here. Luckily, "soju" is ludicrously cheap. Vile, but cheap.
Ah, soju, how I love thee, but where to begin? I'll write about what I know, because what I remember isn't much. Soju is described by its aficionados (and their number is ample) as "Korean Wine." It is sometimes fruit flavoured and pleasantly decieving, but is most often clear and thus strong smelling. Bottles of soju can be purchased in a variety of sizes but is most commonly found in 500 mL format. What's more, to illustrate how some cultures are far more advanced than us, soju can even be purchased in handy, lunchbox-sized ... wait for it ... tetra packs! Recess never tasted so good.
Did I mention that it packs a 22% punch? And the fact that it's mainly consumed in shooter format? To boot, it is in fact rude to refuse a shot of soju if offered by your host; especially if the latter is female, older, a co-worker or, well, Korean. I hope everyone's getting the picture. Nightly, businessmen can be seen stumbling along Korean streets, hand in hand with their officemates, dragging their sorry briefcases and slurring asses behind them. An interesting, but pitiful sight. Stories abound of fights, vomitting and persons passed out in the middle of the street, helpless, holding up traffic for all to bear.
That's the darker side of the stuff, but in moderation (or a tad more...), fun times are promised. Luckily for me, I prefer beer to wash it all down, so I'll do just fine. Let me end the soju stories at that, but I can somehow foretell they'll rear up their ugly head sometime in the very near future.
vi: Pets
Some of the oddest things become uber-luxury items in other cultures: a fine example of social dyslexia is how dogs are considered gods. They're pampered to a fault and kept almost as babies. Consequentially, animal items (food, toys, garments) are very highly priced. Comparatively, plants aren't the only ones made pretty. Marlene Copeland could easily develop a cult following in a few short days, if she ever broadcasted her terrible pet show over here. Dogs (and specifically dogs) are dyed, babied, and kept at a miniature stature. Big dogs are largely unpopular and, to date, I've only seen one in total. People strut around, carrying their pups, dressing them up with little shirts, booties and even hats. Fucked up. Once I get a digital camera, you'll all flip your lid.
On the subject of cats, they are, for the most part -- left to get dirty, ratty, thin and all-around unkempt. Mind you, watching kittens wrestle and tackle each other will always strike a soft chord in my heart, wherever I travel. I actually sat for twenty minutes to watch two of them do that "stalk n' tackle" thing kittens do and it was priceless. Some people like to watch plastic bags fight the breeze, but I dig cats.
O.k., amigos, amigas, strangers and neighbours, I have run out of quasi-informative things to say, except that I wish you all well in whatever you're up to these days. I don't know about Canada, but the nights are getting chilly in Korea so bundle up, find someone to love and hold on tight.
With hugs, headnods, handshakes and high-fives from here to there, I miss you all.
S*
Fave current track(s): "Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl" - Broken Social Scene
Current read(s) in progress: "Korea" - Lonely Planet, "The New Yorker" magazine
Teaching and My End of Town.
~
2003.10.12 03:33 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Suwon, Republic of Korea
Hey everyone, the following are responses to two largely questioned topics.
ii. Teaching Kids:
I am responsible for eleven classes, taught twice each, weekly. Class sizes range from three to thirteen students. I am accountable to my school between the hours of 2 and 8:30 p.m., Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. Monday and Thursday evenings, I teach until 9:30. The staff consists of six teachers: four Korean female teachers (Katie, Joy, Gene and Ivy), one American female teacher (Marin) and myself. I am currently teaching children from the ages of six-ish (?) to somewhere close to fourteen.
At times, I feel like I'm babysitting which -- for those of you who've never had the pleasure -- sucks, at the best of times. Other times, seeing students comprehend the lesson, their eyes lighting afire with understanding and knowledge, fuels the rest of my day. Unfortunately, the latter are often the ones given later in the evening. Oh well, I'm finding my groove and the kids are (hopefully) starting to like my style and respect my authority. Until then, I am fortunately allowed to (lightly) hit children in this country. Hey, don't look at me like that; "when in Rome..."
iii. "The Scene" or more interestingly "Things I Did Today":
Unfortunately, I have to admit that geographically, the curtains are closed on this local party scene. For all intents and purposes, Seoul is the place to go for, well, everything. Nevertheless, slowly, I have begun to explore my local environment, tasting and absorbing what it has to offer. I've found that a quick jaunt outside of my quiet suburb takes me to some rather interesting strips of restaurants, businesses and markets, complete with droves of people circulating, out and about.
In fact, I spent nearly six hours thereabouts, this afternoon, exploring and roaming around UNESCO's World Cultural Heritage Site: Hwaseong Fortress. Honestly, the geek in me found it pretty damn interesting.
After that, a ton of shopping (new Reebok runners, a power bar, a reading lamp, a haircut, three more plants ... all of which were much needed). I even came across a gem of a shop, selling the most excellent and interesting cultural treasures (old masks; framed, tall, Hangeul scripts; agricultural artifacts; and long, wooden character/food "stampers" (like lined-up cookie cutters). I quickly set my sights on two awesome pieces but, unfortunately for me, I misunderstood the price and instead of a lovely mask being 5,000 and the "cookie cutter" thing being 7,000 Won, the gentleman promptly informed me that a "zero" had somehow got lost in the translation and that the prices were, in fact, 50,000 and 70,000 Won, respectively. Ouch. I thanked him as politely as I could and bowed a lot. A shame, really; they were pretty nice souvenirs that would have made superb additions to my digs -- as wall art -- or even gifts.
That's it for now. I have run out of adjectives, synonyms and similes.
Be good to yourselves. Keep doing whatever you each do best and remember to take it easy but take it.
Czech it, from here to there,
S*
Fave current track(s): "Wouldn't It Be Nice?" - The Beach Boys, "Bonita Applebaum" - A Tribe Called Quest
Current read(s) in progress: viceland.com, "The Dharma Bums" - Jack Kerouac, "Toro" magazine
2003.10.12 03:33 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Suwon, Republic of Korea
Hey everyone, the following are responses to two largely questioned topics.
ii. Teaching Kids:
I am responsible for eleven classes, taught twice each, weekly. Class sizes range from three to thirteen students. I am accountable to my school between the hours of 2 and 8:30 p.m., Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. Monday and Thursday evenings, I teach until 9:30. The staff consists of six teachers: four Korean female teachers (Katie, Joy, Gene and Ivy), one American female teacher (Marin) and myself. I am currently teaching children from the ages of six-ish (?) to somewhere close to fourteen.
At times, I feel like I'm babysitting which -- for those of you who've never had the pleasure -- sucks, at the best of times. Other times, seeing students comprehend the lesson, their eyes lighting afire with understanding and knowledge, fuels the rest of my day. Unfortunately, the latter are often the ones given later in the evening. Oh well, I'm finding my groove and the kids are (hopefully) starting to like my style and respect my authority. Until then, I am fortunately allowed to (lightly) hit children in this country. Hey, don't look at me like that; "when in Rome..."
iii. "The Scene" or more interestingly "Things I Did Today":
Unfortunately, I have to admit that geographically, the curtains are closed on this local party scene. For all intents and purposes, Seoul is the place to go for, well, everything. Nevertheless, slowly, I have begun to explore my local environment, tasting and absorbing what it has to offer. I've found that a quick jaunt outside of my quiet suburb takes me to some rather interesting strips of restaurants, businesses and markets, complete with droves of people circulating, out and about.
In fact, I spent nearly six hours thereabouts, this afternoon, exploring and roaming around UNESCO's World Cultural Heritage Site: Hwaseong Fortress. Honestly, the geek in me found it pretty damn interesting.
After that, a ton of shopping (new Reebok runners, a power bar, a reading lamp, a haircut, three more plants ... all of which were much needed). I even came across a gem of a shop, selling the most excellent and interesting cultural treasures (old masks; framed, tall, Hangeul scripts; agricultural artifacts; and long, wooden character/food "stampers" (like lined-up cookie cutters). I quickly set my sights on two awesome pieces but, unfortunately for me, I misunderstood the price and instead of a lovely mask being 5,000 and the "cookie cutter" thing being 7,000 Won, the gentleman promptly informed me that a "zero" had somehow got lost in the translation and that the prices were, in fact, 50,000 and 70,000 Won, respectively. Ouch. I thanked him as politely as I could and bowed a lot. A shame, really; they were pretty nice souvenirs that would have made superb additions to my digs -- as wall art -- or even gifts.
That's it for now. I have run out of adjectives, synonyms and similes.
Be good to yourselves. Keep doing whatever you each do best and remember to take it easy but take it.
Czech it, from here to there,
S*
Fave current track(s): "Wouldn't It Be Nice?" - The Beach Boys, "Bonita Applebaum" - A Tribe Called Quest
Current read(s) in progress: viceland.com, "The Dharma Bums" - Jack Kerouac, "Toro" magazine
Chillaxing Is All
~
2003.10.11 04:21 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Suwon, Republic of Korea
Not much to say right now. I'm expending the entirety of my vocab on responding to e-mail responses to the first mass comm. As it stands, music and this keyboard are all I've got right now (well, that, and Welch's sparkling grape soda in a can ... hmm, you really can feel it in your cheeks). Sheee-eeet, taco.
Either way, don't worry, kids, the honeymoon's far from over. My advice: kick back, relax, put on the eight-track and dig this set list:
01) "Concentration" - Jurassic Five - feat. Quannum MCs
02) "Quality Control" - Jurassic Five
03) "Roots Rock Reggae" - Bob Marley
04) "Everyday People" - Arrested Development
05) "Concrete Schoolyard" - Jurassic Five
06) "The Influence" - Jurassic Five
07) "Luck Of Lucien" - A Tribe Called Quest
08) "Seed 2.0" - The Roots feat. Cody Chestnut
09) "Bonita Applebaum" - A Tribe Called Quest
10) "Flute Loop" - Jurassic Five
11) "Jurass Finish First" - Jurassic Five
12) "No Woman, No Cry" - Bob Marley & The Wailers
13) "Redder Than Red" - Bob Marley and Peter Tosh
14) "Kinky Reggae" - Bob Marley & The Wailers
15) "Exodus" - Bob Marley & The Wailers
With headnods and handshakes and all that jazz,
S*
Fave current track(s): "Concrete Schoolyard" - Jurassic Five
Current read(s) in progress: globeandmail.com, "The Dharma Bums" - Jack Kerouac, "Toro" magazine
2003.10.11 04:21 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Suwon, Republic of Korea
Not much to say right now. I'm expending the entirety of my vocab on responding to e-mail responses to the first mass comm. As it stands, music and this keyboard are all I've got right now (well, that, and Welch's sparkling grape soda in a can ... hmm, you really can feel it in your cheeks). Sheee-eeet, taco.
Either way, don't worry, kids, the honeymoon's far from over. My advice: kick back, relax, put on the eight-track and dig this set list:
01) "Concentration" - Jurassic Five - feat. Quannum MCs
02) "Quality Control" - Jurassic Five
03) "Roots Rock Reggae" - Bob Marley
04) "Everyday People" - Arrested Development
05) "Concrete Schoolyard" - Jurassic Five
06) "The Influence" - Jurassic Five
07) "Luck Of Lucien" - A Tribe Called Quest
08) "Seed 2.0" - The Roots feat. Cody Chestnut
09) "Bonita Applebaum" - A Tribe Called Quest
10) "Flute Loop" - Jurassic Five
11) "Jurass Finish First" - Jurassic Five
12) "No Woman, No Cry" - Bob Marley & The Wailers
13) "Redder Than Red" - Bob Marley and Peter Tosh
14) "Kinky Reggae" - Bob Marley & The Wailers
15) "Exodus" - Bob Marley & The Wailers
With headnods and handshakes and all that jazz,
S*
Fave current track(s): "Concrete Schoolyard" - Jurassic Five
Current read(s) in progress: globeandmail.com, "The Dharma Bums" - Jack Kerouac, "Toro" magazine
411
~
2003.10.10 22:33 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Suwon, Republic of Korea
Alright. After a lengthy and convoluted deliberation, a party of three have finally concluded that communications will (might!?) reach me if sent to the following postal address:
For letters:
Scott Graham
Apt. 304 Purun Ju Taek 41 (Green House)
805-6 Jowon-Dong, Jangann-Gu
Suwon-City, Gyeonggi-Do
South Korea
Phone (home): 011-82-31-257-5155 (dial as is, from North America)
Phone (cell): 011-82-016-9263-5520 (dial as is, from North America - if it doesn't work, try dropping the "0" in "016")
For parcels (which will not fit into my tiny, unsupervised mailbox):
Scott Graham
c/o GnB English (School)
Jang Ann Campus
3F Jugong Education Center
859-3 Jowon-Dong, Jangann-Gu
Suwon-City, Gyeonggi-Do
South Korea
Phone: 011-82-31-245-0588 (dial as is, from North America)
By the by, here's something I overheard an old couple discussing on a train: apparently the contents of enveloppes don't get searched by customs if the enveloppe's thickness doesn't exceed "normal" size.
You know, it's odd how well a small, flattened ziplock fits inside a "birthday" card. I'm just saying is all...
Nevertheless, you guessed it, the second address is my school so, as our Nihilist friend Flea says to The Dude, "... No fonny schtuff!"
From here to there, muchachas and muchachos.
S*
Fave current track(s): "The Spark That Bled" - The Flaming Lips
Current read(s) in progress: "Q" magazine, "The Dharma Bums" - Jack Kerouac
2003.10.10 22:33 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Suwon, Republic of Korea
Alright. After a lengthy and convoluted deliberation, a party of three have finally concluded that communications will (might!?) reach me if sent to the following postal address:
For letters:
Scott Graham
Apt. 304 Purun Ju Taek 41 (Green House)
805-6 Jowon-Dong, Jangann-Gu
Suwon-City, Gyeonggi-Do
South Korea
Phone (home): 011-82-31-257-5155 (dial as is, from North America)
Phone (cell): 011-82-016-9263-5520 (dial as is, from North America - if it doesn't work, try dropping the "0" in "016")
For parcels (which will not fit into my tiny, unsupervised mailbox):
Scott Graham
c/o GnB English (School)
Jang Ann Campus
3F Jugong Education Center
859-3 Jowon-Dong, Jangann-Gu
Suwon-City, Gyeonggi-Do
South Korea
Phone: 011-82-31-245-0588 (dial as is, from North America)
By the by, here's something I overheard an old couple discussing on a train: apparently the contents of enveloppes don't get searched by customs if the enveloppe's thickness doesn't exceed "normal" size.
You know, it's odd how well a small, flattened ziplock fits inside a "birthday" card. I'm just saying is all...
Nevertheless, you guessed it, the second address is my school so, as our Nihilist friend Flea says to The Dude, "... No fonny schtuff!"
From here to there, muchachas and muchachos.
S*
Fave current track(s): "The Spark That Bled" - The Flaming Lips
Current read(s) in progress: "Q" magazine, "The Dharma Bums" - Jack Kerouac
A Running Commentary: Eats
~
2003.10.08 23:48 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Suwon, Republic of Korea
I've neglected (or elected, you choose) to write anything for the past few days: issues with money -- and the availability thereof mine, establishing myself comfortably, accessing e-mail and just taking the time to find my overall groove.
Things are going relatively well. In response to my first mass e-mail communication (From the flat Earth's edge, pt 1.0.), many respondents enquired about a variety of topics. Let me respond generally.
i. Food:
Yes, I'm eating well. The food is original, tasty and plentiful. Of course, as anywhere, there are dishes to which I'm clinging more than others.
Let's start with Korean barbecue. When you order Korean food it usually comes with almost a dozen side dishes consisting of fish cakes, pickled cabbage, sweet cucumber salad and shredded beef. Other sides may include sauteed, raw calamari with onions and other vegetables. Most dishes are accompanied by a spicy red sauce. Spicy meat, seafood or vegetable soups are also the norm.
As meat (pork, beef, fish, seafood, etc) is normally the primary dish -- cooked on a grill, in the centre of your table -- your main ingredient is virtually surrounded by smaller dishes of vegetables (corn, peas), kimchi (spicy cabbage), soup/broth, boiled sweet potatoes, dumplings, rice mixtures, raw vegetables and sometimes even halfed garlic cloves. The list is lengthy and every restaurant serves it's own version of accompanying side dishes.
Interestingly, meals are often photographed and posted on the storefront or in the menu. When meals are a shared one (e.g., Korean barbecue), prices and volume vary according to the number of persons consuming.
Although just a brief glimpse of one meal, Korean dining remains creative by constantly piqueing one's curiosity.
Snacking is also the norm, here. Children and adults alike are incessantly nibbling on something. Streets are littered with stalls selling deep-fried everything; from shrimp and pork and sausages to pastries, ramen noodles (many flavours/sizes/lengths) and kimbop (like California rolls). Similarly, fruit and vegetable stalls abound, and corner stores sell every type of sugared treat imaginable. Children do not go without, I assure you.
(I'm getting rather tired now -- it's 2 a.m. here -- so I'll let you all digest that and keep you salivating for more tall tales of life on this side of the planet).
Stay tuned, amigas and chicos, there'll be more to come from your friendly, neighbourhood Esstar.
Czech it.
S*
Fave current track(s): "Break Me Gently" - Doves
Current read(s) in progress: "The Dharma Bums" - Jack Kerouac
2003.10.08 23:48 KST (EST + 13 hrs): Suwon, Republic of Korea
I've neglected (or elected, you choose) to write anything for the past few days: issues with money -- and the availability thereof mine, establishing myself comfortably, accessing e-mail and just taking the time to find my overall groove.
Things are going relatively well. In response to my first mass e-mail communication (From the flat Earth's edge, pt 1.0.), many respondents enquired about a variety of topics. Let me respond generally.
i. Food:
Yes, I'm eating well. The food is original, tasty and plentiful. Of course, as anywhere, there are dishes to which I'm clinging more than others.
Let's start with Korean barbecue. When you order Korean food it usually comes with almost a dozen side dishes consisting of fish cakes, pickled cabbage, sweet cucumber salad and shredded beef. Other sides may include sauteed, raw calamari with onions and other vegetables. Most dishes are accompanied by a spicy red sauce. Spicy meat, seafood or vegetable soups are also the norm.
As meat (pork, beef, fish, seafood, etc) is normally the primary dish -- cooked on a grill, in the centre of your table -- your main ingredient is virtually surrounded by smaller dishes of vegetables (corn, peas), kimchi (spicy cabbage), soup/broth, boiled sweet potatoes, dumplings, rice mixtures, raw vegetables and sometimes even halfed garlic cloves. The list is lengthy and every restaurant serves it's own version of accompanying side dishes.
Interestingly, meals are often photographed and posted on the storefront or in the menu. When meals are a shared one (e.g., Korean barbecue), prices and volume vary according to the number of persons consuming.
Although just a brief glimpse of one meal, Korean dining remains creative by constantly piqueing one's curiosity.
Snacking is also the norm, here. Children and adults alike are incessantly nibbling on something. Streets are littered with stalls selling deep-fried everything; from shrimp and pork and sausages to pastries, ramen noodles (many flavours/sizes/lengths) and kimbop (like California rolls). Similarly, fruit and vegetable stalls abound, and corner stores sell every type of sugared treat imaginable. Children do not go without, I assure you.
(I'm getting rather tired now -- it's 2 a.m. here -- so I'll let you all digest that and keep you salivating for more tall tales of life on this side of the planet).
Stay tuned, amigas and chicos, there'll be more to come from your friendly, neighbourhood Esstar.
Czech it.
S*
Fave current track(s): "Break Me Gently" - Doves
Current read(s) in progress: "The Dharma Bums" - Jack Kerouac
Suwon, South Korea: Well, I Made It...
~
2003.10.07 00:12 KST (EST + 13 hrs):Suwon, Republic of Korea
Hello all,
As I'm sure you've guessed by now, I've made it safely to South Korea to teach English in my little suburb of Suwon (south of Seoul). Things are going rather well; I've been teaching for one week now and have met some interesting people and challenges. I'm discovering the local haunts and picking my fave eateries. There is so much of everything to nose out.
In terms of living arrangements, my digs are small, but relatively cool. I'm currently in the process of hunting for additional furnishings and accoutrements to touch up the living space. It will soon be the cat's ass of sights and sounds, I guarantee.
I want to write more, but observations this early are only speculations, exaggerations and stereotypically trite comments. In their stead, ask me your questions and I'll tell you no lies.
From a place on a peninsula called Korea, this is Esstar McGee keeping warm and staying cool.
Czech it.
S*
Fave current track(s): "Everyday People"- Arrested Development, "Burn One Down" - Ben Harper
Current read(s) in progress: "The Dharma Bums" - Jack Kerouac
2003.10.07 00:12 KST (EST + 13 hrs):Suwon, Republic of Korea
Hello all,
As I'm sure you've guessed by now, I've made it safely to South Korea to teach English in my little suburb of Suwon (south of Seoul). Things are going rather well; I've been teaching for one week now and have met some interesting people and challenges. I'm discovering the local haunts and picking my fave eateries. There is so much of everything to nose out.
In terms of living arrangements, my digs are small, but relatively cool. I'm currently in the process of hunting for additional furnishings and accoutrements to touch up the living space. It will soon be the cat's ass of sights and sounds, I guarantee.
I want to write more, but observations this early are only speculations, exaggerations and stereotypically trite comments. In their stead, ask me your questions and I'll tell you no lies.
From a place on a peninsula called Korea, this is Esstar McGee keeping warm and staying cool.
Czech it.
S*
Fave current track(s): "Everyday People"- Arrested Development, "Burn One Down" - Ben Harper
Current read(s) in progress: "The Dharma Bums" - Jack Kerouac
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