Saturday- as told by Ian Fleming

But what if I don't arrive first?  Concentrate, he reprimanded his mind, there's nothing to be gained from wondering.
The concrete chill finally found him, as it always did.  The winds, born of the endless frozen waste of Siberia, always found their way.  Even as his boots clicked on the gray slabs- each diving further down than the last beneath a torrent of wrapped and muffled cityfolk, even as he descended to the bustling underworld beneath the city streets, even as the last desperate blazes of brilliant blue sky were swallowed up behind him- even then the sepulchral gusts found him and bit through his coat. 
     He turned up his high black collar, fighting off a shudder, and begged his thoughts to focus.  He had to arrive at the underground junction before she did.  It didn't do to dwell on what might await him, if he wasn't the first one there.
     He checked his watch.  12:55.  It was almost time.  He swiped his chip at the entrance, turned the corner, and the earth opened up before him.
     This, then was the Labyrinth.  The network of tunnels beneath the city streets that housed everything you could need:  Grocery stores, trains, restaurants, bus terminals, places to buy dresses or erasers or cell-phone cases.  Through dozens of passages scattered throughout the city, a curious river of black wool coats poured into and out of the caverns.   The web of alleys stretched beneath the city above- a mirror of the open streets bathed in artificial sun.  An underworld where hawkers called their wares in the white-and-blue glow. 
    The meeting today was one of excitement, one of trepidation.  If the contact (a friend of an acquaintance who he'd never met) was who she claimed to be, he could learn the secret he'd sought so long.  The location of the Temple danced before his eyes, the place he longed to find.  There was a less encouraging option, however-- if his contact played him false, he could find himself taken by the agents of the great Northern tiger.  Those phantoms haunted the whisperings of everyone around him. They moved in the violent, chaotic shadows that you can only see on lonely late-night walks when your mind won't rest with the sun--made all the more frightening when you tell yourself the very thing you saw can't truly be.  The ghostly thoughts reminded him to prepare his phone to send the SOS at one button-- and pray he wouldn't need to.  He flinched visibly when the device rattled in his hand.

underground at the divergence of water.  I have a red scarf.

He smiled the harsh grin of a hawk that first espies the shadow of a mouse, his face illumined in the story-teller glow of the screen.  This was exactly what he needed.  In his mind, the needle-thin hand of a dial moved between him and this mystery contact, ticking one notch closer to him.  She didn't know his face, and hers was a mystery to as well.  If he identified her first, he could fortify his position against capture.  If, however, he was identified first, he knew that anyone who wished him ill would have time to get into position.  He'd been at a disadvantage all along, an obvious outsider in the land of One People.  This solitary clue- this red scarf- might be the flag he was looking for.
     He looked up, the harsh lights flashing off his telltale green eyes.  As his gaze swept further and further across the crowd, the awful truth hit him. 
Everyone has a red scarf.
Hundreds of red scarves now adorned the passers-by, as if suddenly called into existence all at once.  How had he never noticed before?  He'd have to rely on the other half of the message.  His mind lanced through the passageways, recreating everything he knew to be there, every turn, every shop, every detail, searching for anything that could be the place in the message.  Faster and faster he searched.
There it was!  At the blue junction a fountain sat between the pillars- splitting its water amid the icy marble titans who held aloft the solid sky.
12:59
He loosed his coat and bolted for the junction, ducking between the bags of peddlers.   Old men muttered as he thundered past.  Couples parted, then rejoined.  Children stared at the flying stranger in black.  He ground his teeth.  He was aware of every hammer of his heart's war-drum tattoo through his ribs. After seconds filled with days, the floor beneath his feet sloped downward, urging him onward as he neared the fountain. Right before the final corner, he slid to a halt.
He straightened his coat, fixed his wind-wild hair in the mirror, focused inwardly to calm his breathing as per his instruction by his sensei, and slipped easily into the crowd at the edge of the junction.
     Red scarves bloomed all over this underground valley.  People laughed and chatted, eating rice cakes and swapping stories, comparing purchases.  The fountain was there, but how to find his contact?  He needed a way to observe it all without attracting attention.  A glint caught his eye.  An idea flicked at his thoughts, a match hissing at a stubborn wick.  Could it work?  He needed to try.  Slipping in line for a bank teller machine, he sent a message of his own.

I don't see you.  Meet me at the fountain.

His turn arrived at the machine.  He thumbed idly through pages.  Balance inquiry?   Transfer?  Withdrawal?  He hardly saw the words-- their piercing white letters only distractions from the reflected fountain in the glass.
There!  A shorter girl in black, her red scarf trailing behind her moved out of the whirlpool of black coats and made for the fountain.  He watched her eyes, unblinking.  She signaled no one.  She sent no messages.  She wasn't followed.  She wasn't even watched by any of the hundreds of faces that swirled in the sea of black behind her.  He closed out of the machine and walked across the plaza toward her. 
Hi, he said, I'm Jeff.

A Battle of Wits!

Picture this everyday classroom scenario and see it for what it is- a Duel of Intellect!:

A teacher invites his class to play a game, an educational game.  In this game, the class splits into two teams and answers the teacher's questions; if they get the answers right, they can draw a certain amount on the board.  The teacher instructs them that their goal is to complete a drawing of a cat.  The teacher begins asking questions.  The students consider the questions, then answer.  As the game goes on, the answers get quicker and quicker, until they're almost instantaneous- the students are no longer even thinking about the questions, but they still have all the right answers!.  "What's going on," the teacher asks, "how do you figure them out so quickly?"

You can't pull one over on students like that.  Here's what REALLY happened.
The students were told they would be playing a game, AFTER they've already done their fun warm up activity for the day.  A game AFTER the fun?  They knew there had to be a catch.  Given that the teacher's intent is to make them learn, the class realized this game would be be structured so that they have to WORK at each question.  A pity.  The game turned out to be one in which the teacher wanted them to quickly answer his questions, which they did.  And then one student made a discovery--
All of these questions are in order in the review section of the book!
In between answers, the students rushed to fill in the questions in the book, eliminating the need to think for each question.  Their answers became immediate for every question as they finished the game on autopilot- no longer needing to think for each answer.  They left grinning from ear to ear.  They had outsmarted the teacher's game.

BUT WAIT!

Why is the teacher smiling?  He was just outwitted! 

The teacher collects the markers as the students leave the room.  He hums to himself and marks complete today's lesson in his secret, mysterious planning book: 
"Complete review questions- Chapters 7-8."

What?  What do you mean it's not epic?  Everything about my year in Korea is epic!
No, to be perfectly honest, some weeks I get to see wonders of the world; other weeks I could be teaching ANYWHERE in the world- I'm just teaching.  In weeks like that (last week) I get to catch up with what I'm actually PAID to do over here, and that's teach children.  There are things I have to learn every day of every week to do that. 

Like gaining an amazing amount of respect for kindergarten teachers-- seriously, children are gross.  I'm glad I never was one.

But even though I'm earning my keep, I still find time to take in what it is that makes life here worth the trip.  Here, why don't I show you?

 First of all, Coke comes in glass bottles over here.  Kinda strange for such an advanced country.  But even a red-blooded American's gotta admit, the immortal Cola's name looks great in Hanguel script.

Look who is featured most prominently on this poster.  Do you find it odd that the sidekick Kato, not the Title character is the focus?  Let me tell you a story.  For those not checking the wikipedia articles, the role of Kato was originally played by none other than Bruce Lee.  And when the TV series came out in Hong Kong, it was billed as The Kato Show.  On this side of the world, it seems they'd prefer to see martial arts masters than brawling gunslingers.  And I for one have to agree:  Seth Rogen as an action hero? 
COMING SOON:  JONAH HILL IN "THE SHADOW"

And I'm here to represent the American Midwest in these classes. 
My work here is done.

Have you ever been so nerdy that you needed an ENTIRE STORE for your one favorite Japanese cartoon?

But it's OK to be a nerd when you live in the real-live future, complete with spaceship docks, like this.  No smoking by the fusion drives, read the sign!

That says Airship, 4th floor.  No big deal.  Korea just actually is a videogame.

And this is the obligatory snow level of that game.  Like all obligatory snow levels, the time you get to spend enjoying the snow is ended much too quickly when the slog of "oh yeah, things to do" turns it into a depressing black slush.

Speaking of depressing... This is actually required reading in some of their classes.

This is not intentional artistic license.  The characters on the right clearly indicate this store is, in fact, named after the favorite recipient of cream cheese.  Lesson here:  if at first you don't succeed, try try again BLINDFOLDED.

That's all I've got for you this week.  This weekend promises my first trip to a traditional Korean spa (jimjilbang).  Oh, and in case you were wondering, the Korean saying that I was adopting last time is "Fighting!" (A-Ja!). 

I remain, as always, your humble storyteller and leading man,

Jeff-Teacher

Marveling

Sometimes I wonder (as I'm sure i've told you before), how can it be true that I'm here?  I peek over my scarf  into the fogged windows of the shops I pass every day on my morning commute-- and see things I would not have even recognized four months ago.  I see signs in a script that's almost unbelievably foreign-  a code in a childrens' fantasy book.  I bow to cashiers, eat exclusively with chopsticks, and absentmindedly rub my thumb over the golden, embroidered characters on my black belt that spell my name.  I look down the streets through the ever-present fog that eventually dissolves everything I can see, except for the mountains that push out through the top of it.  I can travel to a temple on an island, or a bullet train in fourty minutes.  This place can be overwhelming if I stop to think, but sometimes I do anyway.
I live in Asia.  Think about that for a second.  It's a continent you may never see.  You'll only know it exists from news reports and encyclopedia entries.  But every day, I'm lucky enough to live somewhere that's unquestionably alien to everything I've ever known.
The world's full of places like this.  I can't see them all.  But it's a goal to which I would love to aspire.
Call me cheesy (or call me inspired...I'd prefer that), but a warrior-poet can't JUST kick ass, he's gotta write too.

The Tragedy of Man



What is the Tragedy of Man?  And is
Immortal pow'r the Glory of the Gods?
What splendors do we miss with hindered sight,
Truncated strength, and hampered time to trek?

For Man is but a watch with slackened spring,
Without- a glorious facade; Within-
A castle built below the reach of tide
In greater world than he could hope to see
In thousand-thousand sleepless wand'ring lives.

But oh, to be a god of all below;
With eyes beyond the stars- in every leaf!
With power to pull the oceans from my will
Begun before all worlds, and ne'er to die!

To make, to see, to live beyond the fall--
These lofty virtues ever hid from man.
But burdened is he with desire to seek,
Explore, without a hope of seeing all.

And what if men were gods, how would it be?
When worlds they crafted of primordial wish
With endless lives to see forever which
Their eyes all watching view from every stone.

"Memento Mori" - gift and call to arms!
The world's beyond your measure- raise your glass!
Give thanks that we, though limited to die
have now such times to see, such lands unmask!

And with each footfall think "poor, sorry gods!
Who never greet new worlds at every rise!"
May those who perish 'spire unfulfilled,
And roar a final plea for one more mile!

When Koreans want to encourage you to carry on, never give up, and persevere, they have a very succinct way of telling you that.  It captures the spirit of this place in a way that my writings never could.  I may adopt it myself, or at least give it a 30-day free trial.  What do you think?

Fighting,

Jeff-teacher.