There's not really much new to report here. I think there's a frog living in my neighbor's garden, which is exciting. I distinctly witnessed some croaking action this afternoon. I was trying to free up some space in my e-mail inbox and I started reading the e-mails I was writing to all my friends at home just after I arrived in Korea. It's a little bit magical because these were really my first impressions of Korea and I distilled them into non-sensical narratives which are fun to re-read now. At least for me. I wrote these before I had this website, but I have always wanted to post them at some point, so I'll do that now, starting with the post-plane ride recap.

So None of you speak English?


Hence the need for English teachers, supply and demand. Quid Pro Quo, Clarice. Oh, and hello, from Daegu, South Korea. Nestled in the cozy mountains of East Asia, Daegu boasts a multitude of happy squid restaurants. You can tell by the smiling animal on the front of each restaurant what is served there. For example, a happy octopus means seafood inside, but does not necessarily reflect the contentment of the animals who are about to be slaughtered. The same goes for the happy pig and happy cow signs. These animals are being blatantly misrepresented as being jolly, when we all know that animals have no feelings. It's a bit reminiscent of the Osaka fish concern from the Simpsons episode in Japan. In fact, much of the knowledge I have gleaned from this particular episode is proving quite accurate about South Korea (Or SoKo). It's all here: the talking toilets, the battling seizure robots, and especially Americatown, which in SoKo is called McDonalds. You know what they call a big Mac in SoKo? You'll never guess...it's called a big Mac. Man it's crazy over here, but you (collectively) would dig it the most. Well, I'm getting ahead of myself, after all it is tomorrow over here, so let me back track. Super Lucky Best Flight? Not even close. More like Super Unfortunate Hell Trip. After being assessed an astronomical fee for checking in too much luggage (who knew five suitcases was too much?), I proceeded to bid an emotional farewell to my lovely French mother and my lovely French American brother. Ok so far, a little bit misty, but everything's good. Then I am grabbed by a security guard. I can still see my family just twenty yards away, while this guy is giving me the cavity search of a lifetime. After opening every pocket of my backpack and leaving all my stuff out on the table for me to put away, I finally get him to explain why I'm over here. This guy speaks very little English but tells me I've agreed to a random search. I don't remember agreeing to any such search, but ok, I'm not trying to hide anything. Meanwhile this guy is looking through my camera bag and smiling. "Oh! Digital camera! Firewire cable! Firewire cable!" The man is violating my civil rights right and left, barely speaks a word of English, but he sure knows his firewire cables. I'm still in fucking San Francisco, this bizarre miscommunication crap is supposed to be twelve hours away! Anyway, I moved on, but as one of two white people on my flight, I suspect racial profiling. Da Plane, Da Plane! Da Plane sucked even more. My late check-in was rewarded with a middle bulkhead seat next to the smelliest Malaysian man ever (Are these two details related? Only a trip to Malaysia might provide answers) Plus, this guy was reading the USA today (He liked the pretty pictures inside, I'm sure) and jerking each page into my face after he was done reading. Even baboons fold their newspapers, sir! I read it in a folded copy of the USA today (I like the pretty pictures) Thankfully, a pretty Korean stewardess, nay, flight attendant, attended to me nicely and moved me to a blissfully cramped seat behind, guess who? Why my odiferous Malaysian friend of course. Then I made the crucial mistake of eating one of the "special" brownies that my friend Alex prepared for me (big shout out to Al for being the first non-Arnon to e-mail me). This made a very uncomfortable and confusing flight, well, exponentially more uncomfortable and confusing. Then a Balance bar melted in my pocket. Then we landed. But then all of a sudden the most incredible thing happened. On every one of the individual screens on the back of every seat, a Korean couple appeared and led the entire group of passengers in guided stretching exercises that everyone could do while seated. Then they started clapping in unison. The passengers followed suit, each one grinning ear to ear. It was like that scene in Hoosiers when Gene Hackman starts clapping, and all the little Hoosiers follow his lead, desperately eager to appease their coach/god. If only you could see these stretches, because Pilates they were not. They were like finger stretches and neck twitches, but my god, they loved it! Ok. I have to stop here because I'm in a "P.C room" (sounds a lot like 'pissy room' when said by the locals, but that's another room entirely) with chain-smoking Korean kids playing Doom on a network, and I can't take it anymore. If any of you have phone cards or rich parents or both, or you are independently wealthy, I expect you to call me at the following number or write to me at the following address.
(editors note: information not available at this time)

I should be online at my apartment soon, too. Love you all. E-mail me your address if you would like to start a good old-fashioned pen-palling. Next Time: Andrew loves the kids, the magical Mr.Cho, The bling-bling effect, The Eminem factor and more.



Precious Mammaries Indeed. Or should I say memories? it matters little, for now I shall sleep. Next time another one.