I'm starting this blog with a run through of all the positive events of the past three weeks.
Firstly, I've finally found a gym. Sadly, this means that I've had to say goodbye to loitering round the children's playground for my morning workouts. However, people still stare at me as I'm 'the only white man in the village' so to speak. At least it's better than being stared at for being a suspected kiddy fiddler. I suppose...
The best bit about the gym is it's name- “Superman Fitness & Health Club.” It's a very appropriate as, firstly, Korean fashion dictates that large black glasses are 'in' and a lot of them work in offices so the white shirt and tie accompanies the glasses. Add to this that they have straight black hair. Do you see where this is going? Yes, they all come in looking just tad familiar to the Man of Steel's alter ego, Clark Kent. They don't, unfortunately, emerge from the changing rooms in full on costume; and their work shirts are neatly folded up and put in lockers rather than being torn off and left on the floor... Amateurs.
From the gym, I'm going to illogically switch topics to toilets. Public ones, to be specific. Odour of any kind is regarded as a normality here, I'm beginning to think. The BO here has caused me to gag many a time, yet it smells like a field of roses compared to public loos. Urinals, in particular, are the main offenders. Ironically, the stench they emit is more reminiscent of that associated with their cubicle counterparts. I have to literally hold my breath when I pee- I've considered giving up drinking water to spare myself the hassle...
Back to the arena of physical endeavours. Two Saturdays ago marked the start of my new rock climbing course. Trust it to be the hottest day we've had for quite some time. Cue more sunburn. I had expected the first day to be taught by the health and safety brigade. Instead I was thrown in at the deep end, or high end, I should say. Climbing an artificial wall from 9am until 4pm rendered my forearms and fingers numb for the next day. Annoyingly, I got to watch I watched tiny women dart up the wall effortlessly as my fingers tensed, desperately trying to hold on to all 95kg of me. I predict my fingers will grow biceps in the next five weeks and I'll be able to sell tickets for a ten man gun show. £5 a ticket.
Fortunately, though, climbing actual rock this past weekend was a tad easier. My sweaty fingers could actually grip the stuff and there was no falling off this time. I also had a sneaky advantage this time round as my long limbs allowed me to reach places others could not. This, is an advantage in my upper body. However, this is not an advantage for my lower body. While my legs are even longer than my arms, due to the fact that my flexibility resembles a brick wall, they tend to just get in the way. But at least half of me ran into a bit of luck, I suppose. At last, a benefit of being tall in Korea. Does it make all the times I have to stand up on public transport with my head tilted to the side? Afraid not.
With the good, inevitably comes the bad- as we were climbing in a forest area, it meant Sergeant Mozzy and his grunts launched an offensive on me. As, my skin now resembles that of a greasy adolescent boy, I can only think that my blood tastes better than anything nature has to offer. But hey, I can't donate blood to the human race while I'm here, so the animal kingdom will have to suffice, for now.
Sticking around in the physical arena, I've succeeded in finding some football with fellow English speakers. The benefits to this are: I can expand my vocabulary on the pitch past “Yeah, yeah yeah.” I can enjoy a challenging, competitive game every Saturday, I get my own Juventus/AC Milan home and away kits with the “O'Rourke” proudly emblazoned on them, I actually get to play in my position (centre back) as opposed to being the 'star' striker in a team of ageing Korean men who's idea of half time nutrition is Soju.
Needless to say, our first league game produced an emphatic 5-2 victory and a mild concussion for myself as I was headed by another player. If I grow my hair a bit, maybe it'll stop looking like a Jabulani...
My busy Saturday, two weekends ago, concluded with a home-cooked meal, courtesy of my room-mate's girlfriend and her friend- we'll call them Betty and Betti (their Korean names are so similar I thought I'd give them equivalent English ones). It was fantastic to have home-cooked Korean food, which knocked the socks off anything I've had in a restaurant so far.
But anyway, after I'd stuffed my face, Betty and Betti decided they wanted to paint my big toenails- as I was drunk on food, I agreed as I thought “Who the hell sees your toenails anyway?” Of course, I forgot that, due to the Korean weather, I wear flip flops everywhere. So, I was forced to endure taking the subway and bus home with pink and green toenails. But, have no fear, in an ingenious ploy to butch the whole thing up I got them to write “Shil-pal” on top of the colour- you can work out for yourself what it means from the title of this blog.
So, I set off home, confident in my masculinity. Cue some very confused and bewildered looks from Koreans on the subway. This could have been for a few reasons: 1) I had painted toenails in a society where homosexuality doesn't exist, 2) I had a naughty word painted on my feet or 3) said naughty word also means the number 18...
Now, it is time to tell you a story that took place this past Saturday night as I got the lift down from my apartment. I was just on my way to drop of some rubbish in the recycling compound. However, on the 9th floor the lift stopped and in walked a child who is mentally disabled.
It's not the first time I've met him, but he usually has someone with him (brother or mother). He tends to grab on to you a lot and prod and poke at you for the duration of your ride to the ground floor. This is fine really, as it's not his fault, he's harmless, and he seems like a sweet kid.
Yet, this time, he was alone. Upon entering the lift, he made a bee-line for me a proceeded to give me a thorough hugging. Fine so far. Yet, the next words that came out of his mouth were the highlight of it all. He started chanting “Apa” which translates as... wait for it... “father.” He then looked up at me and said “Helloooooooooo!” This prompted smiles all round from the rest of the Koreans in the lift and, of course, myself.
When we got out the lift, he promptly grabbed my shirt and proceeded to go all the way to the rubbish tip with me. I couldn't exactly explain that neither child adoption or abduction were on my to do list for this year. Only, when we got back to some steps, could I make my escape. Handy, as I was on my way to catch a bus to Seoul- I'm not sure how that would've gone down with his mother.
Finally, aside from learning how to be rude and offensive in Korean (like I needed help!?), I've actually decided to learn a bit of Korean after a mishap involved me getting on a bus to the supermarket going the wrong way. This then took me to another city entirely...
When I enquired with the bus driver as to where in the blue hell I was and whether the bus would return to Yongin city, he gestured for me to get off the bus. I refused and tried to communicate using the translator on the phone and showing it to him, he looked at the phone and put it to his ear. This series of events repeated itself until I just declared that I was staying put, and hoping I'd return home. Thankfully, I did. However, what should have been a 15 minute journey turned into a 4 and ½ hour round trip. So much for a relaxing Sunday...
So, anyway, I now know a few more Korean words which make my kids at school giddy when I say them. By next week, I should hopefully have learnt how to say “Where the hell am I?” At the minute, if I should happen to end up in a random city, all I have in my arsenal is “I'm an English teacher,” “I'm an English man, “my name is Tom,” “left” and “right.” Not to worry then...
