I apologize for the long delay in between postings. I also apologize for beginning a new thread before finishing the previous. Don't worry, they will all be completed, and with much shorter intervals. I promise. Enjoy
Like any Asian country, Korea possesses many rights of passage, that if successfully completed, grant the individual certain privileges. Some of those rites include the first locker room shower where one must scrub the back of another without flinching, and be scrubbed in return, and at the same time do not grimace as ones penis size is mocked – standard coming of age tradition in Korea. Or, when a college graduate gets his first professional job, the ceremonial first “Shiny” suit is purchased. Some men go blind in the process, and it is so emotionally damaging that 99% of those who pass go on to be raging alcoholics, drowning the terrible experiences with countless shot-glasses of Soju and then passing out in the street on a daily basis. For women, there is the first Ajima (older woman) Perm, which denotes class standing as well as a stretched labia manora.
With all of these rituals, another common thread between the Lands of the Perpetual Squint is the exclusion of foreigners from these cultural practices. These small, mysterious, yet powerful acts separate the Korean from the distrusted Waygooken (foreigner – which I think is an ironic word considering it contains an American derogatory term for Asian). It is almost impossible for a stranger to pass such rigorous tests, let alone attempt them, yet in my desire to penetrate the Korean psyche I faced hostility, danger, and insurmountable odds in order to understand even a little more this intriguing and sometimes gay place. So, go grab your popcorn, and maybe some takeout Panda Express, because another Korean adventure is coming at you hard with two fingers!
The martial art of choice in Korea is Tai Kwan Do, which like other fighting schools, indicates rank through a belt system. This is a representation of the underground cultural battles that individuals must pass to be “worth a damn” in this country. Some are easier than others, and to take the more advanced tests, the simpler ones must be passed first. My experiences were no different.
Because I am Waygooken, no ounce of leniency was shown. They did not start me out easy. Oh no, they wanted to break me right out of the gates. They sent me right into the showers, with a bottle of Herbal Essences in one hand and Johnson and Johnson Body Wash in the other. It was at the public pool facility, and short, wrinkled, older men crowded in with pruned fingers and glistening black hair smelling of chlorine and booze. I know, I know, I’ve heard Vietnam stories that couldn’t compare. But, I was not phased. Three years at a Catholic elementary school had more than prepared me for such a situation and I took it all in with a stony face and clenched buttocks. Of course, anyone knowing me from my high school days will understand when I say that not a single snicker emerged from their pretty mouths about the size of my privates. Rather “oohs” and “ahhs” filled the shower like the steam from the hot water. This Horse is still healthy.
I bypassed the shiny suit routine, which my judges considered irrelevant because they consider any job a Waygooken has as “unprofessional.” Instead they threw me into computer lab full of vicious, mocking, scathing, and completely dorky teenagers and told me that I had to last a half an hour in a battle royale of Starcraft. Unbeknownst to those administering the test, and to most people who meet the charming and devilishly handsome man I am today, I was a complete nerd as a child and years of the original warcraft had taught me some necessary survival skills. Still, imagine Michael Phelps in a pool of dolphins and being told to swim to the other side without being struck. Now, instead of Michael, imagine someone who isn’t nearly as good, like a college grad with a receding hairline that has swam maybe half a dozen times. Then, instead of dolphins, Korean teenage boys. Oh yeah, instead of a pool, a computer lab. Plus, they don’t have to touch me, just beat me at the game. If you can imagine that, then you’ve got a pretty good idea of what I went through. Needless to say, a half an hour I never want to repeat.
All in all, it was an extremely trying week. I’d never felt so exposed or violated in my entire life. But, that was just the preliminary round. The real deal was about to happen. When it comes to a Waygooken in Korea trying to infiltrate the culture, nothing is more difficult, nor more looked down upon than some tall, good looking, muscular, foreigner strutting around carrying native electronic accessories. I’m speaking of course, of the elusive and seemingly unobtainable, Korean Cell Phone. Jealously guarded by the natives, lusted after by the westerners, it is the one modern piece of pop culture that, for whatever asinine reasons, the locals protect to the last man.
A foreigner cannot just walk into a cell phone store and attempt to purchase a mobile communication device. Sorry, amigo, that is a big fat Anio Anio (no no). You will first be ignored, then, if you persist, you will be laughed at. Publically. Serious, all the workers will point their fingers at you and laugh out loud, gales of it. They will even pull people off the street to laugh. If they have a loud speaker in the store, which most of them do because they pump annoying Asian pop music all day, then they will announce to everyone what is happening. This is sixties Civil Rights Movement front of the bus sort of behavior. Guess which color of skin I have in this analogy. No, the other one. Yeah, that one.
I know the question you all have in your sweet, inquisitive minds right now: OMG Chris, if it was that awful, how could you ever get a phone? Or, Chris, are the Koreans really that dangerous? Or, Chris are you single? The answer to the last two is Yes, and to the first one, I’ll Tell You Right Now, Amigos!
First thing, if you ever find yourself in Asia desiring a phone, you have to find a sponsor. This is not the same as getting a sponsor to enter a bar in Utah, that’s child’s play compared to this. Plus, the last think you want is impaired judgment by alcohol; you want to be Iceman in this situation. That’s Top Gun Iceman, kiddos. As in, “Why do they call him Ice? Iceman. It's the way he flies, ice cold, no mistakes. He wears you down, you get bored--frustrated--do something stupid and he's got ya.”
The sponsors are hard to come by because of how much risk they have to take upon themselves. You see, if you fail the tests not only do you not get a cell phone, but your sponsor loses face, his friends, maybe his family and/or job. You think that with so much at stake it would be near impossible to get one of them to help, but because of who they are (Koreans) and who we are (Americans) they think we cannot fail. At anything. Needless to say, many have been fooled into a false sense of security with under-prepared Waygooken. They paid the price for their ignorance.
Initially, I too may have been one of those over eager, over confident, Waygooks, who thought I could just waltz in and demand phone service. But, luckily, the sponsor I found was not to be fooled. He is a great man, known to those who work with him only as Mr. Lee. (His first name is actually Min Hyun, but I will call him Bruce.) Bruce took me under his sweet and sour wing, and with Mr. Miyagi efficiency, taught me the secrets of the Cell Phone Initiation and prepared me for the trials ahead.
The rest of the adventure will be posted soon. I appreciate your patience and support.
June 2009
-Chris
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