I've been running nearly every day. For whatever reason, I feel motivated to lose weight and feel better. So far, so good. I don't think I've lost any weight, but I think I look healthier. My diet is, generally, healthier than it was stateside -- less meat, less everything else, and no juice/soda. One thing I do have to watch is vitamin C. Fruit is somewhat expensive here, so it doesn't show up in many meals. If I'm not careful, I'll end up with a case of scurvy. Arrgh.
Yesterday, it rained consistently throughout the day. The sidewalks are quite slick, and I didn't trust the grip on my shoes enough to really run. It was still somewhat relaxing to walk/jog in the early morning, amid a sea of umbrellas and gradations of dress, from full suits to slacks and white shirts to student clothes.
There are a couple small parks near my residence. Each one has some modest athletic equipment, in addition to a playground. One in particular has a worn rubber track, which will be my running spot of choice should it be raining. The first time I walked into that park, I noticed that the highest pull-up bar was missing; the next day, it was replaced. I don't know if it was coincidence, or a mark of Korean efficiency. Either way, I'm too fat/weak to do more than a couple.
Although I'm not officially working, I have been helping out at the office with certain things -- manipulating Excel spreadsheets to eliminate repeated and misspelled vocab words, writing proficiency exams for TAs interested in tutoring students at the camp, etc. I've sat in on the head teacher's class, and later had to apologize for being a bit too participatory; I have to remember that it's really, really important to not split the attention of the students. I blame all the material I'm reading about Teddy Roosevelt.
Lately, I've been going through the study guides on critical reading and writing. The latter, in particular, has forced me to really think about what it takes to develop good writing skills -- both the kind that is rewarded on the test and a more generalized facility with words. It's tough -- so much depends upon things that have to be done well in advance of the test. If the students don't read, or don't care about writing, or decide they need to demonstrate fancy vocabulary, or are simply slow thinkers, then they are bound to struggle mightily to write a 4-paragraph essay in 25 minutes. Some of this can be practiced away, but some of it will require some shift in values/ambitions/priorities/habits between now and the test.
Critical Reading is also something that really requires a great deal of time to cultivate. Reading good books and articles helps a lot, though with some questions, it's clear that critical reading as tested on the SAT is a bit removed from ordinary life. There are techniques I can and will teach -- get the main idea of the passage, look for a tone, paraphrase, don't choose an answer just because it uses similar words to the referenced passage, make sure the entire answer is reflected in the excerpt, and depend upon context, not definitions learned previously, to define words highlighted in a question. But real success depends upon these students being readers in the first place.
Yet the will's somewhat--somewhat, too, the power--
And thus we half-men struggle
I confess, even with my anxieties about the camp, I'm excited and thrilled.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Monday, June 17, 2013
Korea Day 5: Technology and Instant Coffee
A strictly chronological record will eventually get boring, especially as I start working and have fewer direct observations of Korea.
Today involved taking/proctoring a sample SAT test and beating my head against a spreadsheet of vocabulary words. Although it was good to refamiliarize myself with IF statements and random number generators, I can safely say it was a pain in the butt.
In lieu of a full, trite retelling of my day, I'll tell you about bits of impressive technology I've noticed.
Rewinding back to Shanghai, the hotel room had one interesting feature. The electrical power could only be turned on if you placed your room card in a slot near the front door. To clarify, the card has to remain in the slot as long as you want power. I thought this was brilliant -- what better way to ensure that the air conditioning and lights are shut off in an empty room! Yes, it's inconvenient, and I suppose a couple with two room keys could get around this. But it struck me as something that, while meeting resistance (har har) in the US, might be a decent idea.
My room in Gangnam does not have a standard lock and key. Instead, the lock is controlled by a customizable 4-digit electronic passcode.
That in itself isn't what fascinates me -- the lock is completely electronic. In order for me to leave my room, I have to press and hold a small circular button.
I'm not sure what happens in the event of a power failure. My early attempts to open the door by manually moving my lock (because I was unaware of this feature) did not pan out.
I suppose now is a good time to mention a bit more about my residence. It's relatively cheap, W20,000/night (about $20). If I had wanted a window, it would have cost me W25,000. But the room is well-ventilated, air conditioned, and tidy.
As a resident, I can use the kitchen, which comes with free (unlimited!?) kim chee,white rice, ramen, and instant coffee.
The coffee perhaps deserves special mention. Instant coffee in the states generally sucks. It's unclear that it's much better here; however, the coffee crystals dissolve completely over here, and each package contains milk/creamer and sugar. I imagine there are black variations, but both my residence and my workplace use the cream/sugar packages. In any event, it's actually quite good.
I once bought one regular coffee at an upscale-looking coffeeshop called Angelinus Coffee, and it set me back W4,500. That's the price of a cheap meal here. I think I'm going to stick with instant for now.
Today involved taking/proctoring a sample SAT test and beating my head against a spreadsheet of vocabulary words. Although it was good to refamiliarize myself with IF statements and random number generators, I can safely say it was a pain in the butt.
In lieu of a full, trite retelling of my day, I'll tell you about bits of impressive technology I've noticed.
Rewinding back to Shanghai, the hotel room had one interesting feature. The electrical power could only be turned on if you placed your room card in a slot near the front door. To clarify, the card has to remain in the slot as long as you want power. I thought this was brilliant -- what better way to ensure that the air conditioning and lights are shut off in an empty room! Yes, it's inconvenient, and I suppose a couple with two room keys could get around this. But it struck me as something that, while meeting resistance (har har) in the US, might be a decent idea.
My room in Gangnam does not have a standard lock and key. Instead, the lock is controlled by a customizable 4-digit electronic passcode.
That in itself isn't what fascinates me -- the lock is completely electronic. In order for me to leave my room, I have to press and hold a small circular button.
I'm not sure what happens in the event of a power failure. My early attempts to open the door by manually moving my lock (because I was unaware of this feature) did not pan out.
I suppose now is a good time to mention a bit more about my residence. It's relatively cheap, W20,000/night (about $20). If I had wanted a window, it would have cost me W25,000. But the room is well-ventilated, air conditioned, and tidy.
As a resident, I can use the kitchen, which comes with free (unlimited!?) kim chee,white rice, ramen, and instant coffee.
The coffee perhaps deserves special mention. Instant coffee in the states generally sucks. It's unclear that it's much better here; however, the coffee crystals dissolve completely over here, and each package contains milk/creamer and sugar. I imagine there are black variations, but both my residence and my workplace use the cream/sugar packages. In any event, it's actually quite good.
I once bought one regular coffee at an upscale-looking coffeeshop called Angelinus Coffee, and it set me back W4,500. That's the price of a cheap meal here. I think I'm going to stick with instant for now.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Korea Day 4: A Tale of Two Koreas
Sunday, June 17, 2013
I've been waking up early, and today was no exception. I spent the early morning reading some more of The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt. In preparation for feeding the homeless, I also looked up some articles about the homelessness situation in South Korea.
The total number of homeless individuals in South Korea ranges from estimates of 1,500 to 4,000 -- even the higher figure might be an underestimate. About 15% of Koreans fall below the poverty line, which, I found to be interesting, is defined as half the median household income.
There are some private efforts to fight homelessness, including at least one effort at microfinance/co-op banking. Christian churches and organizations are also involved. There is a welfare program, though I don't have a clear sense of whether or not the payments are sufficient to guarantee necessities, or if the payments have been subject to pressure from morality politics, as in the US.
In the recent past, Seoul station had been a gathering place of sorts for a sizable portion of the homeless population. That has changed somewhat: the authorities, in response to complaints from travelers, have started clearing out the station on a regular basis.
This is confirmed in anecdotes from my friend and her group. They mention that there's been a reduction in the number of homeless men in and around the station. Some plaintively, perhaps naively, hope that the absent transients somehow achieved better circumstances.
Each member/couple in the group (7 total, excluding me) had brought something to contribute. Whenever we met someone who appeared to be homeless, we provided a sandwich, a banana, a juice carton, and two choco pies. The group had evidently done this for a while. There was a moment of unexpected humor when a guy wanted a banana -- "Wow! He never wants bananas!"
The group consisted of four young women, idealistic perhaps, but not naive. There were a couple instances when they preferred to hang back, and let the men deliver the foodstuffs. An older man, a professor at the new SUNY campus, mentioned that the group avoided a certain area where the men tended to be drunk and more aggressive.
In general, all the men were very grateful and polite. One even said "Thank you!" multiple times in English. Another man was memorable for having makeup and appearing to be at least somewhat in drag.
I haven't fed the homeless, or done any poverty-related volunteer work, since college, 8 years ago. The whole experience reminded of one of the things that made me uncomfortable when I was working on a homeless lunch program during college. Is this something that helps? Is this something that I use, subconsciously, to avoid doing something more substantive, more structural? Of course, doing nothing because token efforts are determined to be token is not acceptable, either.
In the end, I decided that the intentions of the people I was with were noble. They weren't naive, or overly idealistic. Although they were all affiliated with one of two churches, and were all expats, they didn't project their sense of morality on broader Korean society (e.g., "Why don't they do something about this?"), and they weren't proselytizing, except, of course, by example.
If a good person does a good thing, however small, the whole of humanity benefits.
After a lunch with this group, I returned home, and watched Man of Steel. It was a glimpse, of course, of another Korea -- comfortably middle class (movies are, perhaps, relatively expensive and more of a treat than in the States), young, attractive, and hopeful. The movie was subtitled in Korean. I confess that I was impressed that the audience got the jokes sprinkled through the movie quickly, and laughed heartily. I'm not sure why I expected otherwise.
I spent the final hours of the evening wrestling a bit with how to use boolean logic to impose my will on a spreadsheet of vocabulary words. As with the beginning of the day, I decided upon an incomplete, but sufficient, approach, and slept soundly.
I've been waking up early, and today was no exception. I spent the early morning reading some more of The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt. In preparation for feeding the homeless, I also looked up some articles about the homelessness situation in South Korea.
The total number of homeless individuals in South Korea ranges from estimates of 1,500 to 4,000 -- even the higher figure might be an underestimate. About 15% of Koreans fall below the poverty line, which, I found to be interesting, is defined as half the median household income.
There are some private efforts to fight homelessness, including at least one effort at microfinance/co-op banking. Christian churches and organizations are also involved. There is a welfare program, though I don't have a clear sense of whether or not the payments are sufficient to guarantee necessities, or if the payments have been subject to pressure from morality politics, as in the US.
In the recent past, Seoul station had been a gathering place of sorts for a sizable portion of the homeless population. That has changed somewhat: the authorities, in response to complaints from travelers, have started clearing out the station on a regular basis.
This is confirmed in anecdotes from my friend and her group. They mention that there's been a reduction in the number of homeless men in and around the station. Some plaintively, perhaps naively, hope that the absent transients somehow achieved better circumstances.
Each member/couple in the group (7 total, excluding me) had brought something to contribute. Whenever we met someone who appeared to be homeless, we provided a sandwich, a banana, a juice carton, and two choco pies. The group had evidently done this for a while. There was a moment of unexpected humor when a guy wanted a banana -- "Wow! He never wants bananas!"
The group consisted of four young women, idealistic perhaps, but not naive. There were a couple instances when they preferred to hang back, and let the men deliver the foodstuffs. An older man, a professor at the new SUNY campus, mentioned that the group avoided a certain area where the men tended to be drunk and more aggressive.
In general, all the men were very grateful and polite. One even said "Thank you!" multiple times in English. Another man was memorable for having makeup and appearing to be at least somewhat in drag.
I haven't fed the homeless, or done any poverty-related volunteer work, since college, 8 years ago. The whole experience reminded of one of the things that made me uncomfortable when I was working on a homeless lunch program during college. Is this something that helps? Is this something that I use, subconsciously, to avoid doing something more substantive, more structural? Of course, doing nothing because token efforts are determined to be token is not acceptable, either.
In the end, I decided that the intentions of the people I was with were noble. They weren't naive, or overly idealistic. Although they were all affiliated with one of two churches, and were all expats, they didn't project their sense of morality on broader Korean society (e.g., "Why don't they do something about this?"), and they weren't proselytizing, except, of course, by example.
If a good person does a good thing, however small, the whole of humanity benefits.
After a lunch with this group, I returned home, and watched Man of Steel. It was a glimpse, of course, of another Korea -- comfortably middle class (movies are, perhaps, relatively expensive and more of a treat than in the States), young, attractive, and hopeful. The movie was subtitled in Korean. I confess that I was impressed that the audience got the jokes sprinkled through the movie quickly, and laughed heartily. I'm not sure why I expected otherwise.
I spent the final hours of the evening wrestling a bit with how to use boolean logic to impose my will on a spreadsheet of vocabulary words. As with the beginning of the day, I decided upon an incomplete, but sufficient, approach, and slept soundly.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Korea Day 3: Preliminary Observations
Saturday, June 15
I end up waking after only 7 hours of sleep. Whether it's the excitement, or just a really screwed up internal clock, I felt good enough to go for a run.
Seoul stinks. Evidently the natives are used to it. The streets give off an odor not quite of an open sewer, but one lurking just beneath. Being out of shape, I stop frequently, though I do manage to go about 3 or 4 miles.
Some random observations:
Gas is about $2 per liter, and that at least one gas station, an attendant will help pause oncoming traffic to allow a customer to leave the station and merge onto a busy street.
Coffeeshops are ubiquitous. I noted one spot where three distinct, contiguous cafes vied for business.
Pets are uncommon, but I did see one person walking a dog, and one storeowner reading the paper as his tiny kitten munched on food.
There were no other runners on the streets, except for people trying to make their buses and subway trains.
ADT security apparently has some business over here, unless that sign was placed just for show outside a store.
Ambulances often get stuck in traffic; I noticed one took an extra 90 seconds to pull into a nearby hospital just because all the lanes were blocked, and no one was willing or able to either push through the intersection or otherwise provide passage on the divided highway.
There are fat people in Korea. Not many, but they exist.
There is a Chevy dealership in Gangnam! Julian later mentioned that it was because of a special partnership, and may involve the use of a Korean engine. Still, this surprised the hell out of me. I'll try to get a picture later.
The rest of the day was spent at the office, helping out where I could. It's all unpaid right now, but I felt like I owed it to Julian. I chose a SAT II Chemistry book for tutoring, drafted evaluation exams for TAs signing up to tutor economics and physics B, and helped format the existing vocabulary list in advance of printing. More lunch, more dinner (is all Korean food in soup form?), an evening stroll, and being, as Julian noted, an old man, I went to sleep early.
Tomorrow I meet up with an old friend from college to go serve homeless people. I was told that some of the attitudes toward the homeless in Korea are shaped by the observation that beggars are often "owned" by organized crime. I have lots of questions for tomorrow.
I end up waking after only 7 hours of sleep. Whether it's the excitement, or just a really screwed up internal clock, I felt good enough to go for a run.
Seoul stinks. Evidently the natives are used to it. The streets give off an odor not quite of an open sewer, but one lurking just beneath. Being out of shape, I stop frequently, though I do manage to go about 3 or 4 miles.
Some random observations:
Gas is about $2 per liter, and that at least one gas station, an attendant will help pause oncoming traffic to allow a customer to leave the station and merge onto a busy street.
Coffeeshops are ubiquitous. I noted one spot where three distinct, contiguous cafes vied for business.
Pets are uncommon, but I did see one person walking a dog, and one storeowner reading the paper as his tiny kitten munched on food.
There were no other runners on the streets, except for people trying to make their buses and subway trains.
ADT security apparently has some business over here, unless that sign was placed just for show outside a store.
Ambulances often get stuck in traffic; I noticed one took an extra 90 seconds to pull into a nearby hospital just because all the lanes were blocked, and no one was willing or able to either push through the intersection or otherwise provide passage on the divided highway.
There are fat people in Korea. Not many, but they exist.
There is a Chevy dealership in Gangnam! Julian later mentioned that it was because of a special partnership, and may involve the use of a Korean engine. Still, this surprised the hell out of me. I'll try to get a picture later.
The rest of the day was spent at the office, helping out where I could. It's all unpaid right now, but I felt like I owed it to Julian. I chose a SAT II Chemistry book for tutoring, drafted evaluation exams for TAs signing up to tutor economics and physics B, and helped format the existing vocabulary list in advance of printing. More lunch, more dinner (is all Korean food in soup form?), an evening stroll, and being, as Julian noted, an old man, I went to sleep early.
Tomorrow I meet up with an old friend from college to go serve homeless people. I was told that some of the attitudes toward the homeless in Korea are shaped by the observation that beggars are often "owned" by organized crime. I have lots of questions for tomorrow.
Korea Day 2: I'm a bad traveler
Friday, June 14, 2013
Well, hell. I must be one of the biggest fools ever to be born. I checked out of my hotel exactly 6 hours too early. I checked out, realized my mistake, then tried to reverse it. I'd like to blame it on the staff and their poor command of English. But mostly it was sheer embarrassment and apathy that stayed my request. With a palpable sense of my own titanic incompetence, I decided to give up and go to the airport.There were several lines of defense against such a stupid action, but my ignorance has a way of surmounting all barriers.
Here's how it happened. My phone, detached from the Web, was set to Pacific Daylight Time. Before I went to sleep, I did the math and set my alarm for an appropriate wake-up time (6:00am, local time). I did note, upon waking up, that it was odd the alarm hadn't gone off. I think my addled brain thought I had just set it incorrectly, or maybe that the phone itself was being unreliable.
I could have also noticed that it was pitch-dark outside. If, as I believed, it was 6:30am, then I should have noticed some sunlight -- this is, after all, summer. But again, my brain somehow didn't register that contradiction.
Finally, there was a digital clock in the lobby. Surely, I would consult this, just in case. However, my brain, being not only stupid but very lazy, saw the wall of numbers (including room rates), and decided that it wasn't worth sifting through the information to determine the time, even though I had noted its position, and despite the fact that it's obviously the only number with a colon.
Resigned and ashamed, I wait for the last airport shuttle. Whether out of generosity, or curiosity, I decided to tip the driver 10 RMB at the end. He seemed surprised but incredibly grateful, putting on a bright smile and pausing for a moment to watch me shamble to my fate in Terminal 1.
I'm not the only one camping out. I spy about 10 different people doing just that. Some are, impressively, sprawled across the seats -- even though the armrests are designed to prevent that. Some are on their phones. A couple are walking around, aimlessly. Most are sleeping/slumped in place.
I suppose I should be lucky I got a couple hours sleep on a real bed.
After semi-sleeping for a few hours, 6:00 finally arrives. I get up and stretch my legs. On my way to the bathroom, I see two rows of seats without armrests. Several people are napping on those seats, luxuriating in their relative comfort. Bastards!
Check-in goes smoothly. I go through security and wait at my gate.
As if to cap what I would regard as an uncomfortable layover, three airport janitors stroll into the adjoining bathroom, arguing at the top of their lungs.
They continue to argue for about 30 minutes. I looked around at other waiting passengers, and it's clear that I'm not the only one bemused by this unwelcome addition. Though perhaps an indication of classless-ness, I decided to record a bit of it, to give Chinese-speakers an opportunity to weigh in on what could possibly be worth such Sturm und Drang. I ended up putting in my earplugs, earning a knowing smile from a nearby Middle Eastern traveler.
Will insert this video later, pending availability of bandwidth
Departure go uneventfully. I chat briefly with a young Singaporean two seats from me. (The travel gods finally took some pity, and gave me an empty neighboring seat.) Entering into Wise Old Man mode, I asked him about his life, and offered some advice on pursuing a degree in America. No sleep, but I did get in a few more hours of The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt.
My first picture, upon arriving into Korea, is of a toilet. I've honestly never seen a urinal with supports; I could speculate on what it means in terms of laws, demographics, and priorities. But maybe I'll just let the photo speak for itself.
Again, I am a walking disaster when it comes to travel. Despite some coordination with Julian, I ended up waiting for him at the wrong bus stop. Internet connectivity was spotty, but I didn't think about either paying a buck for temporary access, or going inside and walking around to improve the coverage, to better facilitate our sporadic Facebook exchanges. Exhibiting perhaps more patience than I would have, he presents me with an odd, but palatable drink (the English translation includes the word "sweat") and a sandwich.
The "limousine" is, naturally, an airport bus. So much for arriving in Gangnam in Gangnam style. But I couldn't care less. I'm finally here, with a couple nonconsecutive hours to my credit in the last 40 hours of travel.
Julian helpfully points out the phallic looking statue on our way out of the airport. Destination: Gangnam-gu, Seoul!
***
Julian helps me check in, and, fortunately, has enough money to cover not only my deposit, but also the balance of rent for the next ten days. (I hadn't taken out or changed any dollars for Korean won.)
Although Julian warned me about the room, I was a bit surprised when I walked in. It is the smallest room I have ever stayed in. It seems even smaller than its dimensions because of the presence of a shower/bathroom in the corner. I have two large pieces of luggage, and combined they eliminate half of the available floorspace.
This is my home for ten days.
Still, all I needed or wanted was a bed for the next ten days. It does have a mini-fridge, a TV, and (apparently not standard) a blanket. I will have to go buy a pillow at some point, as well as a towel and shampoo.
One of the perks is free ramen and kim chee in the communal kitchen.
But there is no rest for the weary. I take a quick shower, and join Julian in retracing our steps to go to the academy office.
I remember a blur of faces and names. I do my best not to collapse, and have the presence of mind to take the box of chocolates I had packed specifically for office introductions. Contrary to my expectations of what, in Japan, is called enryo, the two-pound box is gone within ten minutes. The dae pyo nim, or top boss, seems genial, but speaks to me, oddly enough, mostly in Japanese. I mostly smile and nod, and wonder how I'm going to manage the next few weeks.
Finally, we leave, get some food, pick up a couple essentials (water and toilet paper) and after a bit of conversation, I shower and collapse.
Well, hell. I must be one of the biggest fools ever to be born. I checked out of my hotel exactly 6 hours too early. I checked out, realized my mistake, then tried to reverse it. I'd like to blame it on the staff and their poor command of English. But mostly it was sheer embarrassment and apathy that stayed my request. With a palpable sense of my own titanic incompetence, I decided to give up and go to the airport.There were several lines of defense against such a stupid action, but my ignorance has a way of surmounting all barriers.
Here's how it happened. My phone, detached from the Web, was set to Pacific Daylight Time. Before I went to sleep, I did the math and set my alarm for an appropriate wake-up time (6:00am, local time). I did note, upon waking up, that it was odd the alarm hadn't gone off. I think my addled brain thought I had just set it incorrectly, or maybe that the phone itself was being unreliable.
I could have also noticed that it was pitch-dark outside. If, as I believed, it was 6:30am, then I should have noticed some sunlight -- this is, after all, summer. But again, my brain somehow didn't register that contradiction.
Finally, there was a digital clock in the lobby. Surely, I would consult this, just in case. However, my brain, being not only stupid but very lazy, saw the wall of numbers (including room rates), and decided that it wasn't worth sifting through the information to determine the time, even though I had noted its position, and despite the fact that it's obviously the only number with a colon.
Resigned and ashamed, I wait for the last airport shuttle. Whether out of generosity, or curiosity, I decided to tip the driver 10 RMB at the end. He seemed surprised but incredibly grateful, putting on a bright smile and pausing for a moment to watch me shamble to my fate in Terminal 1.
I'm not the only one camping out. I spy about 10 different people doing just that. Some are, impressively, sprawled across the seats -- even though the armrests are designed to prevent that. Some are on their phones. A couple are walking around, aimlessly. Most are sleeping/slumped in place.
I suppose I should be lucky I got a couple hours sleep on a real bed.
After semi-sleeping for a few hours, 6:00 finally arrives. I get up and stretch my legs. On my way to the bathroom, I see two rows of seats without armrests. Several people are napping on those seats, luxuriating in their relative comfort. Bastards!
Check-in goes smoothly. I go through security and wait at my gate.
As if to cap what I would regard as an uncomfortable layover, three airport janitors stroll into the adjoining bathroom, arguing at the top of their lungs.
They continue to argue for about 30 minutes. I looked around at other waiting passengers, and it's clear that I'm not the only one bemused by this unwelcome addition. Though perhaps an indication of classless-ness, I decided to record a bit of it, to give Chinese-speakers an opportunity to weigh in on what could possibly be worth such Sturm und Drang. I ended up putting in my earplugs, earning a knowing smile from a nearby Middle Eastern traveler.
Will insert this video later, pending availability of bandwidth
Departure go uneventfully. I chat briefly with a young Singaporean two seats from me. (The travel gods finally took some pity, and gave me an empty neighboring seat.) Entering into Wise Old Man mode, I asked him about his life, and offered some advice on pursuing a degree in America. No sleep, but I did get in a few more hours of The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt.
My first picture, upon arriving into Korea, is of a toilet. I've honestly never seen a urinal with supports; I could speculate on what it means in terms of laws, demographics, and priorities. But maybe I'll just let the photo speak for itself.
Again, I am a walking disaster when it comes to travel. Despite some coordination with Julian, I ended up waiting for him at the wrong bus stop. Internet connectivity was spotty, but I didn't think about either paying a buck for temporary access, or going inside and walking around to improve the coverage, to better facilitate our sporadic Facebook exchanges. Exhibiting perhaps more patience than I would have, he presents me with an odd, but palatable drink (the English translation includes the word "sweat") and a sandwich.
The "limousine" is, naturally, an airport bus. So much for arriving in Gangnam in Gangnam style. But I couldn't care less. I'm finally here, with a couple nonconsecutive hours to my credit in the last 40 hours of travel.
Julian helpfully points out the phallic looking statue on our way out of the airport. Destination: Gangnam-gu, Seoul!
***
Julian helps me check in, and, fortunately, has enough money to cover not only my deposit, but also the balance of rent for the next ten days. (I hadn't taken out or changed any dollars for Korean won.)
Although Julian warned me about the room, I was a bit surprised when I walked in. It is the smallest room I have ever stayed in. It seems even smaller than its dimensions because of the presence of a shower/bathroom in the corner. I have two large pieces of luggage, and combined they eliminate half of the available floorspace.
This is my home for ten days.
Still, all I needed or wanted was a bed for the next ten days. It does have a mini-fridge, a TV, and (apparently not standard) a blanket. I will have to go buy a pillow at some point, as well as a towel and shampoo.
One of the perks is free ramen and kim chee in the communal kitchen.
But there is no rest for the weary. I take a quick shower, and join Julian in retracing our steps to go to the academy office.
I remember a blur of faces and names. I do my best not to collapse, and have the presence of mind to take the box of chocolates I had packed specifically for office introductions. Contrary to my expectations of what, in Japan, is called enryo, the two-pound box is gone within ten minutes. The dae pyo nim, or top boss, seems genial, but speaks to me, oddly enough, mostly in Japanese. I mostly smile and nod, and wonder how I'm going to manage the next few weeks.
Finally, we leave, get some food, pick up a couple essentials (water and toilet paper) and after a bit of conversation, I shower and collapse.
The Korea Adventure: Day 1
This will, hopefully, be a travelogue of sorts. My data cable connecting my phone to my laptop is fickle, but I will try to upload photos and videos when I can.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
So the adventure begins! Roy and Mom take me to LAX, and after a heartfelt goodbye, I'm left to brave the wilds of international travel.
As it turns out, I'm not alone. By happy coincidence, Tommy, a friend from Harvey Mudd, is also in the terminal, preparing to fly to Hong Kong. He's kind enough (or bored enough) to wait with me in the China Eastern Airlines line, making the half hour or so of shuffling periodically among dispirited members of coach class humanity pass pleasantly. We chat for a bit in a disappointing restaurant, then part ways.
My first indications that my luck in the next 40 hours might not be outstanding is that I manage to pick a place in the boarding line right behind a guy who, in a moment confirming the value of sharp eyes and situational awareness, finds a wrinkled $20 bill on the ground. Good for him, I think, secretly nursing some jealousy. Thank goodness I'm not the person who allowed the winning lottery winner to cut in line.
Before boarding, as if to hold up an image of things to come (or at least highlight the values of where I'm going), I noticed a flying squadron of 5 Korean Air stewardesses walking toward another gate. They are all 5'10", all precisely dressed, all with similar, beautiful facial features, perfect makeup, and pleasant smiles. There was something otherworldly about that.
I ended up sitting next to three American men on their way to Thailand. Contrary to expectations, they were actually quite sophisticated. Two were employed at LAUSD. One in particular seemed to be wading, periodically, through a dense tract on democracy and teaching, in preparation for his new job as teacher trainer. As pleasant as it was to chat with them, it was perhaps more enjoyable to listen to them plan their trip, discussing whether or not they would go to Chiang Mai and ride elephants.
I didn't sleep on the flight; instead, perhaps trying to copy the subject of the book, I plowed through the second half of Theodore Rex and, without a break, switched over to its predecessor in the series, The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt. Both were engrossing reads, and while I'm only about halfway through The Rise, I can't help notice parallels between TR's struggles with asthma and poor health in childhood and FDR's own character-building fight with the effects of polio.
They were, of course, quite different men, and yet I can't help but marvel at what seems to be a genetic predisposition of unwavering belief in the power of one's volition to shape one's circumstances.
I landed in Shanghai, and to my surprise, was able to find the shuttle to the hotel easily. Check-in went smoothly, and the room, despite it being cheap, seemed reasonably kept. I am treated to a view of crops and greenhouses outside my window -- not the picture of Shanghai that I imagined, but a pleasant one, nonetheless.
I'm able to squeeze out an email to home. By 11pm, I'm off to what I hope will be an adequate seven hours of sleep.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
So the adventure begins! Roy and Mom take me to LAX, and after a heartfelt goodbye, I'm left to brave the wilds of international travel.
As it turns out, I'm not alone. By happy coincidence, Tommy, a friend from Harvey Mudd, is also in the terminal, preparing to fly to Hong Kong. He's kind enough (or bored enough) to wait with me in the China Eastern Airlines line, making the half hour or so of shuffling periodically among dispirited members of coach class humanity pass pleasantly. We chat for a bit in a disappointing restaurant, then part ways.
My first indications that my luck in the next 40 hours might not be outstanding is that I manage to pick a place in the boarding line right behind a guy who, in a moment confirming the value of sharp eyes and situational awareness, finds a wrinkled $20 bill on the ground. Good for him, I think, secretly nursing some jealousy. Thank goodness I'm not the person who allowed the winning lottery winner to cut in line.
Before boarding, as if to hold up an image of things to come (or at least highlight the values of where I'm going), I noticed a flying squadron of 5 Korean Air stewardesses walking toward another gate. They are all 5'10", all precisely dressed, all with similar, beautiful facial features, perfect makeup, and pleasant smiles. There was something otherworldly about that.
I ended up sitting next to three American men on their way to Thailand. Contrary to expectations, they were actually quite sophisticated. Two were employed at LAUSD. One in particular seemed to be wading, periodically, through a dense tract on democracy and teaching, in preparation for his new job as teacher trainer. As pleasant as it was to chat with them, it was perhaps more enjoyable to listen to them plan their trip, discussing whether or not they would go to Chiang Mai and ride elephants.
I didn't sleep on the flight; instead, perhaps trying to copy the subject of the book, I plowed through the second half of Theodore Rex and, without a break, switched over to its predecessor in the series, The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt. Both were engrossing reads, and while I'm only about halfway through The Rise, I can't help notice parallels between TR's struggles with asthma and poor health in childhood and FDR's own character-building fight with the effects of polio.
They were, of course, quite different men, and yet I can't help but marvel at what seems to be a genetic predisposition of unwavering belief in the power of one's volition to shape one's circumstances.
I landed in Shanghai, and to my surprise, was able to find the shuttle to the hotel easily. Check-in went smoothly, and the room, despite it being cheap, seemed reasonably kept. I am treated to a view of crops and greenhouses outside my window -- not the picture of Shanghai that I imagined, but a pleasant one, nonetheless.
I'm able to squeeze out an email to home. By 11pm, I'm off to what I hope will be an adequate seven hours of sleep.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Gas stations and card fees
As you've probably noticed, many gas stations have started charging different prices for cash and credit/debit. Up until 2010, gas stations that accepted credit cards were prohibited from charging a lower rate for cash customers. (Reason: Mastercard and Visa rule the country.) After a court ruled against the two credit giants, stations started listing two different prices.
As a warm-up to what might be more intensive posting during my Korea trip (yes, I'm going!), I decided to document my observations locally. I don't have a gas card, and I don't have much brand loyalty. Consequently, I've got a fair amount of anecdotal evidence that there's some standardization across stations of a specific brand, and that not all brands treat the card fees equally.]
Update: it appears debit card PIN transactions aren't subject to holds. Not sure why that would be true, but that credit cards would be subject to holds. Fraud? That doesn't seem to make much sense to me. Maybe there's a different clearing mechanism for credit and debit purchases with a PIN.
As a warm-up to what might be more intensive posting during my Korea trip (yes, I'm going!), I decided to document my observations locally. I don't have a gas card, and I don't have much brand loyalty. Consequently, I've got a fair amount of anecdotal evidence that there's some standardization across stations of a specific brand, and that not all brands treat the card fees equally.]
Note: most of my direct experience is with debit card purchases. However, debit cards are generally treated the same as credit cards, even though debit transactions typically have lower merchant fees associated with them. I'll note places where debit is treated differently than credit.
Arco:
As the article above mentioned, Arco didn't take cards until quite recently. They currently apply a $0.35 charge for debit-card customers, but that appears to be a flat fee. I don't know precisely what the merchant fees are (I'll update the post later), but a good estimate is 3%. If that's true, then Arco is not passing on the full cost of a card transaction to the customer.
Arco:
As the article above mentioned, Arco didn't take cards until quite recently. They currently apply a $0.35 charge for debit-card customers, but that appears to be a flat fee. I don't know precisely what the merchant fees are (I'll update the post later), but a good estimate is 3%. If that's true, then Arco is not passing on the full cost of a card transaction to the customer.
Mobil:
Mobil is often one of the pricier brands of gas in this area. Perhaps as a consequence, they don't charge a different rate for cash and credit/debit. This appears consistent over the handful of Mobil stations I explored in the San Gabriel Valley.
Chevron:
Chevron tends to add about 10 cents a gallon for credit and debit transactions, which translates into about 2.5% at current gas prices in Southern California. This means they're passing on the full price.
76:
76 stations seem to exhibit a bit more variability than the others. I don't know why -- maybe the franchisees generally have more freedom to set rates. I've seen some that list the same price for cash as credit/debit, but I think a majority charge about 10 cents more per gallon.
Shell:
Ugh. The Shell closest to my house charges 20 cents a gallon more for card transactions. This is about 5%, or well above what they should reasonably expect to have to pay in merchant fees. Another one a bit farther away is a bit more reasonable, and charges *only* 10 cents a gallon more for card purchases.
Mobil is often one of the pricier brands of gas in this area. Perhaps as a consequence, they don't charge a different rate for cash and credit/debit. This appears consistent over the handful of Mobil stations I explored in the San Gabriel Valley.
Chevron:
Chevron tends to add about 10 cents a gallon for credit and debit transactions, which translates into about 2.5% at current gas prices in Southern California. This means they're passing on the full price.
76:
76 stations seem to exhibit a bit more variability than the others. I don't know why -- maybe the franchisees generally have more freedom to set rates. I've seen some that list the same price for cash as credit/debit, but I think a majority charge about 10 cents more per gallon.
Shell:
Ugh. The Shell closest to my house charges 20 cents a gallon more for card transactions. This is about 5%, or well above what they should reasonably expect to have to pay in merchant fees. Another one a bit farther away is a bit more reasonable, and charges *only* 10 cents a gallon more for card purchases.
Valero:
These stations tend to be less common, and, honestly, they have the feel of an independent station. The one closest to my house charges 4 cents more per gallon for credit purchases, but charges the same as cash for debit purchases. This might have to do with the difference in fees between credit/debit, as mentioned above.
Other notes:
Of all the stations I've tried, I haven't noticed a major hold placed on my card by any of them. The policies may have changed at some point -- previously, a hold, often of more than the amount of gas purchased ($75 in some ridiculous cases) was placed on the card. This could be Very Bad Indeed, and lead to overdrafts or cards being declined if one flirted too closely with a zero balance.It's a welcome development, but I'd need to investigate further as to when this changed and why, if it is, in fact, a real change.
These stations tend to be less common, and, honestly, they have the feel of an independent station. The one closest to my house charges 4 cents more per gallon for credit purchases, but charges the same as cash for debit purchases. This might have to do with the difference in fees between credit/debit, as mentioned above.
Other notes:
Of all the stations I've tried, I haven't noticed a major hold placed on my card by any of them. The policies may have changed at some point -- previously, a hold, often of more than the amount of gas purchased ($75 in some ridiculous cases) was placed on the card. This could be Very Bad Indeed, and lead to overdrafts or cards being declined if one flirted too closely with a zero balance.
Update: it appears debit card PIN transactions aren't subject to holds. Not sure why that would be true, but that credit cards would be subject to holds. Fraud? That doesn't seem to make much sense to me. Maybe there's a different clearing mechanism for credit and debit purchases with a PIN.
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