Korea Part Deux

Coming back to Korea is infinitely easier than coming. There is no new school. No house hunting. No learning military jargon. No separation from Kristie and Aslan. No being the new guy. No mourning missing out on Europe. No staying up late staring at an unfamiliar ceiling wondering what I have done to my life. No wondering how to say, “Please stop shoving me, Korean Man” in Korean. Actually, I still wonder how that translates. I could use that one daily.

Rather, even though it is our second year, we are old-timers. There is so much turnover here in Osan that one moves up the chain rapidly. I’m being considered for principal this year. I’m kidding about that.

There are about a dozen new people in the building. Most of them seem like a nice addition. We’ve gone to Seoul on a few outings with a handful of them so far.

Kristie and I are looking forward to another year here. Autumn is a nice time to be here. It is cooling down, and it is so green. Looking at rice fields makes me really understand what green means, even though I’m a bit color-deficient.

Throughout this school year, our plans are to travel to Vietnam, Shanghai, Thailand, and perhaps back to Bali. In late spring, we’ll put in for a transfer to Italy. For the first time, I wouldn’t be too disappointed if we didn’t get it. Maybe it’s the kimchee talking, but Korea has the beginnings of being our home. We are a part of this community, and we like it.

For now, anyway.

Summer Pictures

Here is a gallery of pictures from this summer, if you are interested. Maybe you are in one of these, so you had better take a look.

A Page of Summer Pictures

Gallery

Efficacious Reading

I walked to Barnes & Noble today to look around. I wandered through the history section, and looked at some Shelby Foote books. You probably know that guy from Ken Burns’s The Civil War series. I liked him as the Civil War expert. I leafed through some of his books, thinking I’d like to read one (even though I knew I would never do so).

In the morning, I looked at the front page on my complimentary USA Today and saw that he died around the same time that I was looking at his books.

I hope it didn’t have anything to do with me.

The Tigger voice guy and the Piglet voice guy died this week, but I doubt my viewing of Pooh’s Huffalump Movie caused it. I’d hate to have that kind of power.

Stop Talking to Me

The conference is filled with almost 100 teachers from around the world. They are all employees of the Department of Defense. Talking with them makes me want to go to Europe more than every before. At one time, I believed that all new hires went to Korea/Japan, before playing the waiting game until an assignment opens in Europe. I am finding out that it is not the case. I met four guys who were hired at the same time I was: three are in Italy and one in Spain. After saying hi, the inevitable next question is, “Where’ya from?” They tell me they are from Italy, Belgium, Spain, and Portgual. I ask how they like it, and the answer is always, “I love it. It’s a great place to be.” After a few moments of me asking questions of the climate, touring, and foods (imagining me in each aspect of their story), they ask me the same question.

Them: “So, where’ya from?”
Me: “Korea. Osan.”

(Awkward silence as I see pity in their expression. Eyes shift down, what can only mean that they are wondering what kind of screw-up that I must be to be sent to the DoDDS Siberia as an anathema. Their lips purse thinking of being forced into eating kimchee. They rub their chin trying to ask questions about my climate, touring, culture. No further questions come to mind easily.)

Them: “How do you, uh, like it?”
Me: “I think break time is over. We should go back to class.”

I decide that I cannot stand to see that pained, compassionate look anymore, so I decide to let them go free. I will then avoid them for the remainder of the week. I’ve burned through about 75 of them in this fashion. I still have 25 or so left for the next two days. I am spending a lot of time in my room. I can’t interact too quickly and waste the rest of them before the conference is over.

Right on, Mickey Mantle!

I left the luggage carousel and called for a van, as instructed. I got in the van and waited for other passengers. Joe, the driver, asked if I was going to that “tea-cha confrence” in Nashua. I told him that I was, and then he felt free to explain to me, in great detail, his military experience. He was trying my I’ve-been-on-a-plane-all-day patience, but he was friendly, and I was trying to be, too.

Soon, another passenger arrived. I knew that she was a teacher immediately because she had That Look. In fact, I told her that after we introduced ourselves, but I think she took it as an insult. Maybe it was. As we changed information on our duty assignments (she’s in Japan), I noticed her fondness for the phrase, “Right on!” with that annoying emphasis and tonal shift on the second word. This type of speaking is usually reserved for adult hippies or youth pastors with goatees trying hard to "be relevant" to today's teens. She used it fluently on details that I thought did not necessitate such urgency.

Me: “I’m from Osan, Korea.
Her: “Right on! Do you like it?”
Me: “It’s alright for a first assignment.”
Her: “Right on!”
Me: “I’ve been to Tokyo last year, and I loved it.”
Her: “Right on!”

On the way to the hotel, we passed a Boston Red Sox sign. Joe the Cabbie told us about the Red Sox-Yankees feud. He told us about a boyhood fantasy that he had (I was getting nervous at this time in the story) that involved watching Mickey Mantle running for a fly ball and then Joe the Boy shooting him in the head. He laughed, and I shuddered and wondered where his middle school guidance counselor was during this time in his life. He laughed at his own story; she said, “Wow! Rock on!” Similar to her early phrase, the syllabic emphasis rested comfortably on only the first word. I was confused as to why this story needed the “Rock on” versus the standard “Right on.” Why was Mickey Mantle’s homicide a “Rock” while my current living situation merely a “Right”? What were her categories for distinction?

The remainder of the taxi ride was silent, while we all continued to think about Mickey Mantle’s demise. I think I saw Joe smirking throughout the ride.

A Frothy Cup of Wisdom

“A writer is someone who has written today.” I read that on a Starbucks cup yesterday in Bellevue, and it has bothered me since. Bothered, not encouraged. I want to write -–and I suppose that I even think that I am, or at least, I will be–- a writer someday. Even though my body of work is scant, I comfort myself with the thought that I am working in my head. Those stories will indeed come out as soon as I get the time. But the truth is, I don’t give time to my writing. I am a writer who does not write. So, according to the wisdom of that Starbucks quotation, I am not a writer.

This wouldn’t be much of a shock to my friends or to the people that I work with at school. It would not be the shock that it would be if Stephen King, or Toni Morrison, or even John Grisham announced it on Oprah. No one thinks of me as a writer. Not even me.

I went to Powell’s last Monday to browse while waiting for the train. I wandered down the “Writing Guides” aisle, but I felt too ashamed to pick anything up. I have those writing books. Those and others. I know the rules. I understand that fiction speaks truth of what is within us. I know a few tips to move plot along and to develop character. I also understand that I am neither developing any characters nor moving any plotlines along. During the writing unit I taught to sophomores this past year, I hypocritically preached the gospel of writing, and how they had the power and authority to create new worlds and people. I wondered where my worlds are and why no one populates it. It’s akin to the preacher hiding a girlie magazine in his office or the father belting out the tired line to do as he says, not as he does. My feigning passion in the classroom is only a small part of the problem. I’m bothered more because I am not doing something that I really want to do. I felt a bit jealous of the students who were struggling through a story and basked in the rewards of pride that comes with a completed story. When’s the last time I did that?

I’m too old to make a James Gatz-like schedule for a personal timetable to better living. That copy of Hopalong Cassidy just ended up in his father’s possession after Gatsby was shot, anyway. I would like to reestablish the idea that I’d like to write. Perhaps I can be so brazen to say that I will try to write something today, and tomorrow, and after that. I remember that Ray Bradbury advice about writing a short story every day. At the end of the year, I’d have 365 stories, and it’s impossible to write 365 bad stories. I guess that at this point, I’d marvel if I had a canon of that many bad stories. I could be like, well, perhaps I should save words for my stories and not criticize others. For now, anyway.

Between Starbucks and Bradbury, I have plenty to get me started. And you thought Starbucks just made coffee.

Worth Learning

“Thanks, Dan, for showing me some things. No one has ever really taken the time to teach me anything really worth learning.” Carter in In Good Company

What are the things that are worth learning?
I have a list that hasn’t been created yet
One is that a love of a woman will change you
For the better, of course
Treating her well will comeback back to you manifold
Like compounding interest on your money
Perhaps that’s not a good example,
seeing how interest rates are so bad right now

A dog will bring you joy and smiles and frustration
You’ll miss that creature when you are away on trips
And you find comfort in thinking that she misses you, too

Asking questions to others about them will make them like you more
And perhaps you’ll like them better, too

No one likes a talker
Or a show-off
Or a miser
Or a sarcastic tone
Or an airplane-seat hog
Saying “please” and “thank you” will get you what you want
I’ve read How to Win Friends and Influence People
(Not really)

We need to strive to be good
To be better than we are today
Whatever that looks like is up to you, I suppose

Spiky hair, tattoos, and tongue rings are symbols of vanity

Find something to know something about
The more you know about something, the more you remember
Whether it’s scuba, golf, pipes, or comics

Ignore the advice that you should live like today is your last day
On earth
If it was, I’d be depressed

Don’t underestimate the power of a good cup of coffee
On the patio
With a friend

No one cares about your car

Watch for characters to be redeemed in movies
It’s one of my favorite themes
A regular Joe becomes quietly great
In 97 minutes
the time it takes to devour a bucket of popcorn
That could be you

Snapping gum in public is as annoying
as crying babies
and wailing cell phones
I guess because saliva is involved

Listen to Wilco when you can

The knowledge that you are insignificant to this universe
Is beautiful and freeing
And, ironically, makes me feel more significant

Even the insincere like sincere people

We all are replaceable at work
The firefighter, the stock analysis, the teacher, the dishwasher
this knowledge reduces our stress
and removes that proud attitude
Backwards logic is still logic

Everyone likes to watch card tricks
Learning a few will break the ice with people

Reading makes you smarter
Walk a few moons in the moccasins of
Huck Finn
Atticus Finch
Tom Joad
They will school you in a thing or two

Being jealous of the power or possessions of others
Gets you nowhere but unhappy

Love the city you live in
Or move
Same with your job
And friends
And choice of ice cream
And restaurants
And personality

Never criticize the one who irons your clothes

Be cautious about reading self-help books
Especially those in poetry formats
Poets can be pompous, you know

Economy Plus

School ended yesterday with little fanfare. Our morning was spent cleaning our classrooms and offices while dreaming of the summer.

Kristie and I had an interesting morning. We had to:

• Drop Aslan off at her summer home (a student of mine). It was sad; this will be the longest I’ve been away from her.
• Bring seven pieces of luggage to the bus stop, then bringing our car to our garage, and then returning to the bus stop. We had a taxi help with the transportation, but he picked his nose the entire time. I made sure he did not touch my luggage after that.
• Close up the house. I am obsessive about being sure there is nothing left on. I checked the electric fourteen times, each between reassurances that I did not lose my passport and tickets.

We went with friends to stay the night in Seoul before taking a taxi to the airport. Now, we are on a ten-hour flight from Seoul to San Francisco. It’s not yet 6 pm, but everyone is asleep. Perhaps I should be, too. We were on the waiting list for a business-class upgrade, but no luck. Here we are in coach. The guy behind me keeps kicking my seat. However, he has an iPod and a Mac laptop, so I tolerate him.

Here’s a summary of our year, in bulleted form.

• In August, we sold our stuff, rented our house, and I quit my job to move to…Korea.
• Enduring the same question countless times this summer: “You’re moving to Korea? Why?”
• I feel like I’ve rejoined the military
• We’ve gone to Korea, Japan, China, Singapore, Indonesia, and Hawaii.
• Even though the class sizes are so much smaller, I missed teaching at Clackamas often
• Two of the teachers I work with went through vicious divorces
• One teacher who I work with was fired. He and I were hired at the same time. I said goodbye to him yesterday (same guy who was also breaking up with his wife)
• Our principal and vice-principal both took other jobs in Germany
• Eight teachers are transferring to Eurpore (Germany, Italy, Belgium); Kriste and I are jealous
• Highlights of the year: visiting the Great Wall, Bali, and being on the quiz show
• I have two reasons to be excited: not only the summer off, but also the fact that we are going home.

We are looking forward to seeing you sometime this summer!

Korean Counterfeiting

Kristie and I have now entered the realm of counterfeiting in Korea.

Let me explain. As I think I told you, the government pays for our rent while we are here. It’s one of the nicest perks of working for DoDDS. However, the way it’s distributed is a bit of a problem. Rather than give it in monthly increments, they prefer to give it in one lump sum for the year. Since we just renewed our contract for the next year, we had $22,000 deposited in our account. There is not a checking system as we know it in Korea. Rather, I had to withdraw the cash from the bank, and we walked downtown to get it changed into Korean won. Here we are, holding 22 thousand bucks in a brown paper bag. I was suspicious of everyone. Even Kristie.

We found the best exchange rate, and, after waiting a few minutes, had our rent money. We called our landlord, he signed a receipt, and took his money for the year. (Note: there is a side story here regarding our toilet seats. While he was here, Mr. Kim and I were kneeling in front of our toilet wiggling the defective seat. I wondered how I ended up in the bathroom with a Korean sticking his hands all over my toilet bowl searching for loose screws. He later returned with two red Christmas-themed seats with “Santa’s World” written on them. Kristie politely refused them. I thought they’d be kitschy. Kristie then politely told me that “kitschy” is a pretentious word and I should not use it.)

A few days later, we went to the same money exchange place to change more money for our trip to Seoul. He said, “I’m glad you came by. One of those $100 bill is no good. Fake.” I told him that I withdrew it from the bank, but he said that they don’t check the bills there. His bank is sending it back, and I think he expects us to buy it back. Think of the corrupted possibilities here. He wants us to return in a few days to look at it. I’m not sure what the outcome will be (or what I’m supposed to be looking for), but I’m going to go to the bank tomorrow to sort this out.

6th in Seoul

On another note, today is our 6th anniversary. We spent the weekend up here in Seoul (I’m typing this from the coffee shop in the hotel while Kristie sleeps). Yesterday, we had a great plan. First, to an Independent Film Festival at the Seoul Arts Cinema, then a trip to the Rodin Museum (his “Gates of Hell” sculpture is housed here), then we’d have dinner at the Baghdad Magic Café, where there is a magic show. Nice plan. Reality, however, was different. The Seoul Arts Cinema moved to an undisclosed location. The Rodin Museum was closed for June. The Baghdad Magic Café was, as far as we can tell, demolished to make room for high rises. That’s the last time we trust a two-year-old guidebook.

Summer Plans

I’m in the homestretch as far as the school year is concerned. We have two more weeks of classes before heading home for the summer. Here’s our schedule:

June 18-23 Portland/Seattle
June 24-30 New Hampshire (work-related workshop)
July 1-9 Rhode Island
July 10-16 Washington, DC (another workshop)
July 17-August 17 Portland
August 18-20 San Francisco
August 20 Leave for our return to Korea

Even though we are having a grand time gallivanting around, we are homesick to be home (is that a repetitive phrase?).

At least we’ll have plain, firm toilet seats there.

Bali Trip

Bali part 1: Getting There

I got off the plane at the airport and went to the restroom. I was looking at the art and sculptures on my way in and almost bumped into an airport employee washing his hands. I stopped to look in the mirror, and watched him instead. He was fixing his hair with the finger comb and pulled out a black casing resembling a switchblade. My heart surged a bit as I thought of how ignoble it would be to be shanked in an Indonesian bathroom before I even left the airport. Rather, the blade switched open revealing a comb. He combed his locks as if this was a normal accoutrement in grooming; I went to the urinal feeling it was safe to turn my back to him. The Balinese Fonz wasn’t going to ask me to rumble.

I left the building and encountered two sensory details that would trail us for the week: the smell of clove cigarettes and requests to drive us somewhere. The cloves didn’t bother me, but I was tired of transportation offers by the time our hotel picked us up.

Bali part 2: Kuta

We stayed in our first place in Kuta for three nights. This is a hectic place where all of the Australian party kids hang out. There is a mall, a waterpark, stores everywhere, etc. I’m not complaining too much, since there were two Starbucks in walking distance. I think the baristas recognized us. Kuta was OK, but by the second day, we were ready to go somewhere else in Bali. We hired a guy named Hero to drive us around the island. How can you go wrong with this name?

The Monkey Forest

We packed and went to our second destination at Ubud, an inner-island town known for its art and crafts. On the way there, we went to a monkey forest where disease-infected primates climbed on us and begged for food. We had fun and left unscathed, but I though we’d have a much better story if I were bitten and had to spend a week in a Balinese hospital fighting off rabies and tetanus caused from the rusty scalpels, all while wondering why Kristie decided to go surfing instead of visiting me. I’d dream about Starbucks and typing the letter home and how’d I explain the situation to friends and family who’d have already grown tired of hearing about our experiences overseas.

Bali part 3: Ubud

Our hotel in Ubud was incredible; this was the place I sent pictures to you already. It had a nice courtyard outside our of room. The town was pretty nice with lots of shopping. I found a few used bookstores to look at. The worst part was easily all of the hawkers trying to sell us a ride. We’d walk down the road to look at the shops and a guy would yell from across the street, “Transport?” while mimicking holding and driving a steering wheel. I wanted to scold him that proper driving hand placement is at 10 and 2, not 7 and 5. You’d think I’d get into an imaginary car with him? No thanks. This didn’t end there. A group of three or four young guys would be sitting on the curb smoking cloves and one would ask, “Transport?” I’d say, “No, thanks.” The second guy in the cadre would then ask, “Transport?” This scenario continued throughout the entire walk. By the end, twenty-five to thirty guys offered us “transports.” I stopped trying to be kind in my declining.

Our friend said he starting giving them numbers. The offer was made, “Transport?” Kirk said, “You’re number one.” “Transport?” “Number two.” He got to number 33 before going to lunch. One his return to the hotel, he was offered again, and asked their number. “Transport?” “What number are you?” “I number 13.” One guy responded to him, “I no number. I helicopter.” I’m not really sure what the Balinese man meant by this exactly, but it was pretty funny.

While in Ubud, we went to another monkey farm. Again, sadly, we were fine and were not bitten. We were taken for suckers by a Balinese man posing as an impromptu (and unwelcomed) tour guide. He showed us the four clans of monkeys, the cemetery where his family was buried (yeah, sure), and a temple. He reached behind the altar and pulled out a small envelope. I thought it was going to be a sacred relic that Indiana Jones would surely search for if he knew it existed; rather, it was postcards that he wanted us to buy. I politely declined, and he said, “Go now” with Hindu authority as he tucked the cards back into their sacred resting place. Kristie and I left the temple to watch more monkey antics.

The Cockfight

While driving around outside of Ubud, Hero pulled the van over and asked if we wanted to see a cockfight, which I guess are pretty commonplace for Bali. I wanted to for some reason, a reason that I will continue to elude me especially when I wake up from those nightmares. It was a scene, to be sure. Lots of screaming, betting, excitement. The ringman took bets as the two owners preps the roosters. The birds each have a metal razor blade tied to one of their feet. The fight starts and ends in about ten seconds. The birds try to block the other, while slicing his opponent with the blade. The loser is crippled and lies there shaking and bleeding. The money changes hands and a young man picks up the still alive bird and throws him to an old man. I went over to him to watch. He is in charge of killing, plucking, etc. He sat on the cement that was filled with blood and feathers, and chopped away. He worked with assembly-line aloofness. Another fight was beginning, and I felt sick and sad. I know that I eat chicken, but this was different. I felt a bit ashamed of wanting to go to watch. I got back in the van and ate noodles the rest of the day.

"You Gotta Know When to Hold 'Em"

At a coffee shop, we were playing cards and the guy who work there marveled at the way we shuffle cards (interlace and bridge). If you don’t know, Asians have a different way to shuffle, something I learned years ago working at Turnaround school. I tried to show him how to do it, and he said, “You King of Gambler.” That’s me, the King of Gambler. Kenny Rogers, look out.

Bali part 4: Lovina

The third and final place was in Lovina, a beach town on the north of the island. This was another beautiful hotel, this time with our room on the ocean. The hotel had an open-air restaurant that was also on the ocean. This was perhaps the best part of the trip. For three days, we sat on the beach, read, ate lots of food, played cribbage, walked into town, got massages, and snorkeled. One morning, we got on a boat to watch the dolphins. It was a perfect ending for the trip. There were no Starbucks, but no cockfights either.

We left Lovina on Friday at 1 pm to drive to the airport. We had delays everywhere on the way home. We eventually made it home to our house in Korea at 12 pm the next day.

In case you ask, yes, it was all worth it.

More Stuff:

My web gallery with more pictures: http://www.mrcoia.com/bali/bali.html
Video of monkeys and a bit of the cockfight (no gore): http://www.mrcoia.com/bali/bali.mov

I Could Have Been a...

Here's my final message regarding the quiz show. If you'd like to see it, it is online : Click Here.

This will take you to a login in page. For the username and password, use ronkristie . The show is around 40 minutes. If you want to see us doing well (including the 80's movies round), watch the first half. If you want to see us making fools of ourselves, watch the second half.

This following pic is from the second round. Looks like an easy question, right? It is my worst moment, as I, for some strange reason, answer, "Tornado."

Crowds

It is crowded in Korea, and it is perhaps one of my least favorite things about living here. Everyone pushes past my personal space, which seems to increase in girth as I grow older.

Our trip to Seoul to visit an open-air market illustrated this for me. I only have pictures of the crowds, but check out Kristie's blog for cool pics of the market itself.


There's a caption to be written for this one, but I just can't think of the perfect line. He had his costume head half-off/half-on, the way we hold sunglasses that aren't being used, and he was drinking a soda. When I tried to stealthily snap a picture of the scene, he quickly put his head on. Perhaps he has a contract to follow.

There was an author signing books in this bookstore. He had quite the following, with a line backed up outside. Unfortunately, I have no idea who he is or what his book is. I asked someone who worked there and if the book had an English title. She said, "No."

On the Site

Our Quiz Show Experience

If it is true that we all have 15 minutes of fame, I hope that appearences on Korean TV do not count.

We didn't do so well, let me start with that. We got there, signed in, went to make-up, lunch, then sat in a briefing on the rules. We went to the studio. Kristie and I were up to play another pair, and the winner would go on to play last week's champions.

We did well in the first round. Kristie was excellent in the 80's movies department, answering the following movie titles: Die Hard, The Breakfast Club, The Terminator, Aliens, and even Once Upon a Time in America. We felt good. We felt smart. We felt cocky. Then the game against the champions from last week...

I'm a dumb man. It seems obvious that I do not know who Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz is, or where Venezela is, or anything about any greek myths ever. We were slaughtered. Humiliated on national television. The only saving grace was that nobody watches this show. I'll tape the show and send it along to friends after the airing on Friday (appropriately, it airs on April Fools Day). Actually, if I am edited to look even dumber than I felt, the program will never reach the borders of the United States.

I may be exaggerating a bit. Kristie and I had a really fun time on the show, and we met some nice folks. We all thought that being on a Korean tv show was pretty funny. It is, isn't it?


This is taken on the bus ride home. Notice the defeat written on our faces.

I will never appear on another quiz show as long as I live. Or, at least, as long as I'm living in Korea. When we get to Italy, perhaps I'll give it another try.

Movie Trip to Seoul 3/25

A group of teachers went up to Seoul after school on Friday to see a Korean movie. Here are some pics.

Current Netflix

Here's what I have on my DVD player:

Paths of Glory
Gallipoli
Taxi Driver
Modern Times
The Motorcycle Diaries (on its way)

I'm reading Sophie's World (Jostein Gaarden) and The Moviegoer (Walker Percy).

Do you care?

The Contenders

Kristie and I are going to be on a Korean game show this week.

When I arrived here, I found a Jeopardy rip-off on an English-speaking Korean channel. It’s called "The Contenders," and it pits English speakers against other English speakers in a trivia contest. Kristie and I joked about how funny it would be to appear on the show. After a few more viewings, I found the entry form online, and, last week, we received an email to come to Seoul.

This past Friday, we went for the pre-taping interview. We had to fill out forms, listen to the rules, and take a test. Now, we return to Seoul this Tuesday for the taping at 11:30 am.

It’s all pretty funny to us. While the show is in English and the questions are similar to American shows, there is cheesiness in it, as the hosts speak in almost-good English with the guests.

Example:

Host: “This “boy” had his start in London nightclubs before gaining popularity with such hits as “I’ll Tumble for You” and “Karma Chameleon.”

Player: “Boy George.”

Host: “Yes, that is correct. Did you ever listen to Boy George’s music? Is that how you knew that answer?”

Player: “Not really.”

Co-Host: “I come from the generation that listened to Boy George, so I did listen to him.”

[uncomfortable silence, as the four players and the host gently nod waiting for the co-host to end this torturous coming-of-age story so play can resume.]

Kristie and I are a team, facing one other team. If we will, we get a trip to Juju Island in Korea. If we win a second time that day, we win a trip to Japan.

There is a portion of the game where one of us has to get the other to say a password. We had the chance to pick our category from a list for the taping. On it, there was “Fairy Tales,” “Mountains,” “Water,” and “80’s Movies.” My heart jumped a beat to be on national television and receiving due credit for my extensive knowledge on 80’s movies.

There is a small crack in the firmament, though: Kristie.

As you know, my dear wife was doing many other important things in that time rather than simply watching movies, so her knowledge on the matter is a bit hazy. Therefore, this weekend has been a crash course in the revered time in the film age, 1980-1989. I put up pictures of Molly Ringwald and Anthony Michael Hall around the house. I have flowcharts of Daniel Russo’s karate moves taped to the bathroom mirror. I wrote a short dissertation on the contrasting elements of Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Porky’s. I have reenacted Tom Cruise’s underwear slide to the theme of “Old Time Rock n’ Roll” several times now. I think the kid is ready.

Whether we win or not, this is one of those fun Korean moments that we will remember. And, we receive 60,000 won each for simply appearing. I will hold back the exchange rate, just so you can wonder…

Taping is Monday at 6:30 pm, PST. Think about us, won’t you? Channel your inner-eighties Kristie’s way.

The Contenders Site:
http://www.arirang.co.kr/english/programs/contenders/intro.asp

My Blog:
http://coia.blogspot.com

Kristie’s Blog (she has cool pictures)
http://kristiecoia.blogspot.com