Michael Bolton's Burning

Yet another reason why I’m ready to leave Korea.

Michael Bolton Concert
Sejong Center for the Performing Arts
March 31 - April 1
A concert of Michael Bolton, two-times Grammy and five-times American Music Award winner, will take place in Seoul for the first time. He sells over 50 million albums over the world and is referred as to the icon of blue-eyed soul. He will burn the floor of the Sejong Center for the Performing Arts with many hit songs of his regular and irregular albums. Tickets are priced from 88,000 won to 198,000 won. For information, call 1588-7890.

Strange Entries from Vietnam

I am looking into a second Vietnam trip for Spring Break next month. We loved Saigon, and now we are considering Hanoi in the north. I am looking on various forums from travelers, and here are a few strange ones.

Girl I Left Behind
nightflier1348 - 03:15pm Jun 8, 2005 EST
Seeking DEAF girl I met In Saigon in June 1974. May have american child born in 1975.I am 57.She 50-57 years old.Neal Mikkelson 83 Woodland, Plano, ILLINOIS,U.S.A.60545

(I’m sure that the deaf girl is real eager to see you, too, Neal. She probably has a few choice words for you.)

No Cell Phones Please
Hey, I am looking for a place I can go that is out of cell phone range. You see, I have found that the microwaves from cell phone towers make me sick - so I want to find a place I can go where they can't use them. Anyone know of any places in SOUTH-EAST ASIA that is out of range. A nice secluded island would be nice.
(perhaps you could travel to the living room of our old house...no reception at all)

Tulico train offer comfortable, air-conditioned soft sleepers. While this is not a luxurious train, it offers good alternative transportation to Sa Pa from Ha Noi. It has soft sleepers, A/C and clean four-berth cabins. You will be provided with one bottle of water, a small snack and a napkin.
(wow...a napkin!)

Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, Vietnam
Hi
Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, Vietnam what's the best?
what must I see in one mouth?
Thanks
Olá
(is this from a traveling dentist?)

Dickie Whacker?
Has anybody met a crazy curly haired middle age American who calls himself Dicky Whacker? We met him in Laos but I think he's been all over the place?
Does anybody know if he was a compulsive liar, or was he really once the personal masseur to Ronald Reagan?
(seriously, does it even matter?)

The size of my Dong
I'm arriving in Saigon on a Saturday afternoon, apparently after the banks close. Where's the best place to change travellers cheques in the Dong Khoi area on a weekend?
Also, my TCs are $100 denominations. That's a huge wad when converted into Dong, right? Will it too big for my wallet? Thanks.
(A joke that was waiting to be told)

Snow Day in Korea

Finally, after eighteen months of teaching in Korea, I had a snow day. By what I read before coming here, I assumed that they were doling out snow days at the immigration counter to every teacher that passed by. I saw pictures from the Korean War, and the soldiers were always covered with patches of the stuff. However, we endured two cold winters without much snow. Until last night. And it was one of those surprise days off. I had no idea that it had snowed when the phone rang at 5 am. I thought it was Kristie, since she was touching down in Seattle around the same time. No, it was the gym teacher bearing that great news of unspeakable joy.

As I referenced, Kristie left for a short visit to Seattle and Portland yesterday. I already miss having her here. I cooked chicken on the barbecue on our patio for dinner. We had a pack in the refrigerator, and I cooked it all at once. There are few things as lonely as cooking five chicken breasts on a propane grill in the cold for yourself. Those breasts were mocking my solitude, I could sense it.




I just looked outside and it is snowing again. I hope the gym teacher calls again.

Embassies torched in cartoon fury

Danish, Norwegian embassies in Syria attacked by Muslims

Why isn’t the world addressing the foolishness of this? Imagine what the reaction would be if Christians were burning down embassies in protest over a comic Jesus appearing in the latest episode of “Family Guy.”

Islam and Violence

Muslim fury over a cartoon? Violence over satirizing the connection between teaching of Islam and violence? I’m sure the irony is lost. Unlike the rhetoric we hear in the news, Islam is not by nature a peaceful religion. It is not just a “small sect of extremists.” Rather, there is a link between the religion and the permissive nature toward violence to protect Mohammed's name and teaching. It is in a different category than Christianity, Hinduism, and Buddhism in that its leaders advocate and endorse violence in the name of Allah. There is not a word for jihad in the other three religions.

You have already interjected the oft-use question, “What about the Crusades?” Need I remind you that bringing up the Crusades is for another argument? We’d have to compare the Crusades of the Catholic church with the actions of Muslims 800 years ago. We cannot compare the Crusades with modern-day actions of Muslims. Look at the actions and teachings of Christians today with the actions and teachings of Islam today. Jesus teaches us to turn the other cheek. The Buddha tells us that all life is sacred. Currently, there is violence in the Muslim world because a Danish newspaper published a cartoon.

Think of how many times the name of Jesus is blasphemed each day. “Jesus Christ” or “Jesus f-ing Christ” are phrases we hear from movies, friends, and songs. Can you imagine if the Christians rose up and attacked a co-worker because of this? It would be as ridiculous as Muslims rioting because a non-Muslim published a picture with a bomb in Mohammed's turban. If Islam was a religion of peace, would this be happening? It’s strange how on one hand Americans are rabid for free speech; on the other, they are so careful to not offend Muslims and their “peaceful religion.”

Setting aside the war on Iraq, look around the world for the hotspots of violence. What is the religion of the area? I know it is a logical fallacy to say that all Muslims are violent people; at the same time, it would be incorrect to say that there is not connection whatsoever between the religion and a proclivity toward violence.

Here’s a small recap that I copied from CNN:
1989: Iranian spiritual leader Ayatollah Khomeini calls on Muslims to kill British author Salman Rushdie for alleged blasphemy in his book The Satanic Verses
2002: Nigerian journalist Isioma Daniel's article about Prophet and Miss World contestants sparks deadly riots
2004: Dutch film maker Theo van Gogh killed after release of his documentary about violence against Muslim women
2005: London's Tate Britain museum cancels plans to display sculpture by John Latham for fear of offending Muslims after July bombings


I’m sure all of these are just strange coincidences.

Death of a Beard

One of the best parts of growing a beard is shaving a beard. You can do fun things as if my face were a Play-Dough head. Needless to say, this stayed for only about ten hours.

Happy New Year

Please ignore the crickets and cobwebs. I am attempting to move this blog to another server to make it easier to post pictures. More updates coming.

Today is the Chinese (Lunar) New Year. It is the Year of the Dog. Aslan is especially happy. Finally, an entire year just for her. She is still getting kibble for supper, though.

Kierkegaard’s Elephant

I’m at Starbucks at 7:30 in the morning.

I arrived in Chang Mai with a wicked cold. We unpacked, walked around a bit, and then I went to bed. I thought it was going away, but I’m still hacking and sniffling like I was a suspicious addict. Today’s Friday, and there are no signs of clarity on the horizon.

Kristie and I both like this city in northern Thailand much better than Bangkok. It has a university-city feel. Lots of great restaurants and shopping. I had three pairs of pants and a sports coat tailor-made here. I felt like such a big shot. I greased his palm with a 100. The commoners stared in awe.

Yesterday, we went hiking, rafting, and elephant riding. The first two activities were fun, although the rafting was a bit cold. Elephant riding, however, took a few years of life from me. Not only was it a circus atmosphere with the “trainers” beating the animals and throwing rocks at them, but it also felt quite dangerous. Our elephant had a mental problem, we believe, considering that he kept banging his head into the wall and that he tried to walk off a cliff with us attached. Unpleasant. He was experiencing, as Kierkegaard calls it, the “sense of dread.” He was steering his life into the freedom that death brings. I sympathize with this animal, I really do, but I do not want to be perched on him while he is caught in this existential dilemma.

Our friends thought it was great fun, along with a group of Brits who acted like high school boys. They were in awe at the feces dropping from the elephant, and couldn’t seem to enjoy anything else. These were the same boys snapping photos of one of their mates using the outhouse. I suppose it was a circus in more than one way. It was like being in an episode of The Osbournes, only much less interesting.

The books warned about these touristy elephant camps, but we didn’t listen. I mean, who doesn’t want to ride an elephant?

Even Old New York Was Once New Amsterdam

Fun Fact! Thailand was called Siam until 1939. Being here makes me want to watch Anna and the King, except for the fact that Jodie Foster is in it. I know I could rent The King and I, but doesn’t Yul Brenner sing in that?

Chang Mai

I still don’t know how to spell it. Forgive me.

We are here with Kim and Susan, teachers from Osan. Also, Ajay and Anish met us here as well. I told many of you before about Ajay; he was a student in my class during my student teaching year at Mansfield, Massachusetts, in 1999. Ajay and Anish, his brother, stayed with us in Korea for a week before Thanksgiving, then came to Thailand. We are hanging around with them in Chang Mai until Sunday morning.

Bed

Last night, we had supper in bed.

There’s a restaurant here called Bed, which the guidebook boasts that it is the coolest place to eat in Bangkok. Being the cool guy that I am (let me have this moment), I wanted to go.

We arrived at 7:30 for drinks in the bar; the restaurant doesn’t open until 8:00. Why is it that the cooler you are, the later you eat? Just for the record, Kristie and I usually eat at 4:15 pm sharp. At the appropriate time, we were escorted to our “table” by a guy with a plain, white t-shirt with the phrase “Creativity Makes Me Horny.” The tables were two long, white-sheeted beds spanning the length of the restaurant. We took our shoes off and climbed in. There is a small table only big enough for drinks and a candle. A DJ stood in the middle of the place with his Powerbook for a turntable. He had his earphones on only one ear, the way they do in those fancy New York clubs, and his head bobbed with the electronic smooth booms. Scantily-clad stiletto-heeled Thai women pranced around with drinks and menus. Bed has two floors of dining, and these off-balanced waitresses climbed stairs (and ladders!) with great ease.

The menu was set, with a couple of choices. We all had the tuna for an appetizer, and a tomato-mozzarella-balsamic-vinegar salad. I had the King Crab penne, and Kristie had the salmon. The white waitresses handed us the food and we ate on our laps, the way our moms served us when we were pretending to be sick to stay home from school. After the meal, we had a lemon cheesecake.

During the meal, a magician came around doing tricks. He spoke English OK (magic-english, if you will: “Is this your card? and “Close your hand with this coin”). He was amused at his own tricks, and, after making two sponge rabbits turn into an entire family of rabbits (is a trick on fornicating bunnies appropriate for dinner?), he laughed and told us this was “Very magic.” I tried to show him a trick or two of my own, but no one offered me a magical job. He handed me his card, perhaps offering to bring me under his tutelage.

We paid the bill (over $40 each) around 10 pm. By then, the REALLY cool people were coming in and the music was even louder. Customers were drinking drinks in martini glasses and shot glasses, and Thievery Corporation was even a bit too loud for me, even though I have them on my iPod in heavy rotation. We walked out of the space ship down the curved, steep stairs. I almost tripped, and I wasn’t even wearing my heels.

www.bedsupperclub.com

One Night in Bangkok

The alarm rang at 3:45 am on Saturday morning. We got out of bed, did the last-minute packing, and boarded the 5:45 am bus to Inchon Airport. Our plane left for Bangkok, Thailand, at 10:50 am. We had an unexpected layover in Hong Kong, and checked into the Marriot at 9:00 pm. It was a long day filled with airplane food and sermons on how to buckle my seat belt.

It’s 8:30 am on Sunday, and I’m listening to Elliot Smith and typing this poolside. We ate sandwiches and pastries for breakfast, and Kristie then went for a swim. A family walked by and stared at my Mac, either with lust or derision. I’m going with lust.

We’ll stay in Bangkok until Tuesday, then go north to Chaing Mai, then on Christmas, we’ll fly down to the island of Koa Samui. Katrina, Kristie’s sister, will meet us there.

I’ll update with pictures as wi-fi permits.

Countdown

It is cold here in Korea. This is this-is-why-I-left-New-England cold. Isn’t the phrase “cold as hell” a misnomer? Why do we want to say this?

Four more days of school until our Thailand trip. We are leaving on Saturday morning for Bangkok, then Chaing Mai, then to the beaches on Koh Sumui. We return to Korea on New Year’s Day.

I checked; there is a Starbucks at each of these places.

What Sean Had for Lunch

Sean at school offered the most unique reason why he didn’t have his essay for class. The seventeen-year-old explained that his paper was on his portable flash drive, but he got sick and threw up on it. The vomit, he went on to say, messed up the drive and he could no longer access his files. He said that he even took it to a Korean computer fix-it shop, but even they—those who supposedly work wonders with puke-soaked electronics—could not retrieve the needed paper.

It reminds me of a bit of writing advice from Ray Bradbury, the author of Fahrenheit 451. “Throw up on your typewriter in the morning; clean it up in the afternoon.” I wonder if this is what Sean had in mind. Someone forgot to tell him that Ray meant this figuratively.

I gave him an extension mainly because I was amused. I excused myself from class, went to the staff bathroom, and washed my hands. Twice.

Narnia

The Chronicles of Narnia was released today in the States. I am eager to see it, but it only plays on base while we are in Thailand. Figures.

It’s Aslan’s namesake; the least they could do is show it this week so our dog can watch it and understand her roots.

The Shortest Point Between Two Distances

Kristie and I rented a driver and a tour guide to take us to the Mekong Delta. I talked with the guide about Vietnam history, especially about communism. It was a non-issue for him, though. He said that he was the guide for a Russian guide last year who said to him, “Communism is the longest route from capitalism to capitalism.”

Coming Out

It seems like liberal Americans likes to often say, “that’s why the world hates us” to show our imperfections as a country. I have been in the world more than most of my friends and relatives, and those who say that phrase seem to hate America for than the world does. Talking to natives in Korea, Bali, China, or now here in Vietnam, I see that people still think highly of American opportunities and freedom. They speak of it with a quickened voice and a sparkle that is long gone from those critical of the U.S. As I have said often, it’s not an attitude that you must love Bush and the war and all that goes along with that to be considered a good American. Rather, I wish they didn’t lose the forest for the trees. More time is spent complaining about Bush and Republicans and conservativism which drowns any remaining joy about being an American. This attitude of malcontentness, while at times can initiate change, will not simply dissolve with a new administration. If a Democrat wins in 2008, you’ll still find something to complain about, because there are too many conservatives in Congress. Or the Supreme Court. Or, in local politics. Or on the school boards. Or in your workplace. Or on the radiowaves. Or on Fox. As a conservative, I feel like you will continue your harange until we all are wiped out, and your Master Political Race not only rules, but also is the only voice in this land. I have learned a few things from being around you and reading your articles. The main point I gleaned is this: you do not want me around. Other than a whipping boy or the reason America is in the toilet or why the world hates us, I serve no purpose in your mind.

The irony of this is that I welcome the discussion, and I could be persuaded to vote in your direction on some issues if we had more of a discussion on these topics. I do not vote “conservative” like a well-trained puppy. I welcome the discussion, but you do not want me in. Your starting point is an ad hominim argument. Your complaining interferes with debate and discussion. You exaggerate and caricature. Eye-rolling never convinced anybody of anything.

I met another teacher here whom I’ve grown to greatly respect. Kim is a strong liberal who is critical of Bush, etc. I recently “came out of the closet” to him on my political beliefs. He asked why I never said anything earlier. I told him that when I tell people of my affiliation, I am judged. I want you to know who I am before you put me in your prepackaged container. It’s a lot like skin color. You judge before you know anything about me. So, I’ve adapted to the hostile environment you created by hiding who I am. I gently smile at your jokes and knowing nods and cruel insults. You have made it clear that you are not as “tolerant” as you like to tell people you are. Where is your tolerance now? “Minds Are Like Parachutes…” your bumper sticker says. Where’s that open-mindedness when you are around someone who voted for Bush?

What time does the goose-stepping lessons begin?

The American War Museum

We visited a museum today that showed a slanted and propagandistic view of the Vienam War today (this is the way our Vietnamese tour guide and the tour books refer to it). It was to show the atrocities of war. There were three dead babies in pickling jars, all dead from mustard gas birth defects. It was gross.

The Shortest Route Between Two Points

Kristie and I hired a driver and a tour guide to take us to the Mekong Delta. I talked with the guide about Vietnam history, especially about communism. It was a non-issue for him, though. He said that he was the guide for a Russian guide last year who said to him, “Communism is the longest route from capitalism to capitalism.”

Lon's Pointy Hat

Lan is our next tour guide on the boat itself. We paid $45, and it seems like he purchased a guide for each strip of land in the Mekong Delta. She has one of those pointed bamboo hats that we always see in the explosion scenes in Good Morning, Vietnam-type movies worn by crouching rice field workers. She smiles a lot and her eyes turn upward at the outer corners. She’d look nefarious if she didn’t look so happy. Her English is rough, but she tries to communicate. She repeats herself often. Not like our grandmothers do by telling the same story about the Depression or what it was like to wear knickers in the winter. Rather, Lon punctuates her sentences by repeating the phrase she ended with. When we were starting our journey, she reviewed the itinerary. She said, “Here we will visit a coconut candy factory. A coconut candy factory. Then, we will go to the south to have a traditional meal. A traditional meal.” She is one of those guides that feels she must earn her keep by a constant volley of words. Of words. As if she is the Charles Dickens of the Southeast Asian tourism world, getting paid Vietnam dong per spoken word.

Nietzsche
Lon tells me about the local people in their fishing boats as we pass by. I’m not understanding it all, but I dutifully nod and smile, resentful of Kristie’s freedom to look at whatever she wants. She tells me about the local people on the island and their crops. She said something that sounded a lot like, “The local people look like Nietzsche. Look like Nietzsche. You know Nietzsche?” Now, I know this isn’t what she said, so before I launched into a philosophical discussion of Thus Spoke Zarathustra and Beyond Good and Evil, I simply said no.

Rolling Down Your Sleeves and Working
On our canoe-like boat trip through a canal that splits one of the islands, our other guide pointed out the gloves on the boat drivers’ arms. These gloves cover fingertips to biceps, something Batman would wear. They do this, he said, to avoid getting a tan. They want to look white. I told him that white people want to look darker, so they tan. He said both want the same thing. For the Vietnamese, dark skins equates to hard, outdoor labor and a lower social status. The gloves help keep the skin underneath white, so they can go out, take off the gloves, and hide what they do for a living. White Americans want to portray the image of a life sitting on a beach, rather than the whiter-than-Dilbert alabaster that comes from working in an office. Their bronzed bodies show that they live a life of Riley. Color, he said, puts one’s status in society out for all to see.

We wear our social status on our literal sleeves, I guess.

Ho Chi Minh Was Once Saigon

“Is France a land of fat, smoking alcoholics?”

This is a headline in the newspaper I am reading in the hotel restaurant in Ho Chi Minh City, Viet Nam. I can only wonder if the Vietnamese still have a bit a residual resentment lingering from the French Indochina occupation. Or, maybe, like most of us, they just don’t like the French.

We are finally here. After turmoil, we arrived in our rooms about 3 am. We were to be here a day ago, but we were stuck in three-hour traffic on the way to the airport in Seoul and missed our plane. We arrived at the same time the plane was leaving. An unhappy trip, to say the least. Even though I took a day off of work to extend our trip, I went into school defeated. I told the story 14,000 times. However, while I was preaching a depressed story to the children to conjure sympathy (they didn’t really care about missed planes or Vietnam trips), Kristie was orchestrating a do-over. At 3:15, we were on another bus to Incheon Airport. We made it with lots of time to spare. Early enough for me to ponder ways to bottle the excess time spent waiting for planes and transfer it to an account for use when traffic is slow or lines are long. I welcome your suggestions.

The hotel never picked us up, so we took a ride in a taxi. There were dozens of taxis in front, but, for some unknown reason, the guy we hired parked across a dark and dodgy lot. I told him the name of the hotel, and he smiled and tried to make conversation, as he politely swindled us out of our twenty dollars for a $1.00 ride.

There are many scooters in this city.

Today is Thanksgiving, and it is supposed to be 88 degrees. We are not part of a tour, so as soon as Kristie gets down here from showering, we’ll figure out what we’d like to do. There’s a few museums dedicated to the war. I’m interesting in those. It’s one of those places that I knew about but never thought I’d visit. I remember my 11th grade U.S. History teacher telling us about her visit here, and how beautiful it was. That was a long time ago, but I often thought about that. Last year, I taught the Vietnam War for the first time, and learned more than I ever knew about the war before. Platoon and Full Metal Jacket were the only textbooks I read on the matter. Oh yeah, Rambo as well.

For you jazz folks, Herbie Hancock will be in the city tomorrow for a music festival. Finally, after many years of anticipation, I can hear a live version of “Rocket.” I wonder if the robot mannequins travel with him.

I like how people go back and forth referring to this city as Saigon and Ho Chi Minh City. I’m unsure which to call it. Now I know how those Turks in Constantinople felt when it became Istanbul.

It's a Movie Bonanza

Here's a link to what's showing at our base movie theater. Please read this and pity us.

November is a stellar month. No movies this week due to an exercise, then Roll Bounce and Get Rich or Die Tryin. I wouldn't pay 50 Cent to see either of those.

Word.

Veteran's Day Celebrating

Today is a day off from school due to Veteran's Day. I'm a vet, but none of you wrote to wish me a happy Veteran's Day. It's not just for the wounded, you know.

Kristie and I spent the day cleaning out the garbage on our computers and backing up the important data. Our hard drives whiz along smoothly now and the desktops sparkle. I almost hope for a fatal crash on the system so I can restore it all easily. Above is a screenshot from the current incarnation of Dashboard. The Top 10 movies of the week is my favorite of the widgets.

I bought Zero 7's "Simple Things" album today. It has been the soundtrack of our day, and it is growing slightly annoying now.

I shredded two months of receipts today, and I organized my office. I began making a movie to show you what the place looks like, but it didn't come out as good as I thought it would. Could it be that I'm not as charming on camera as I think I am?

We are going to a dinner party tonight. It's 3:58 pm, and Kristie just changed out of her jammies.

Quarter One

First quarter ended on Thursday. Looking at the grades brought me one step closer to abandoning the teaching profession. I have already started thinking of other career paths I'd like, ones in which I am not held responsible for other people's laziness. After the report cards arrive, I'm sure I'll get a barrage of emails from parents angry with me for the grade. There is little blame put on the student in such matters. I say something similiar each time:

I put all assignments online.
At the start of each unit, I give students a schedule of the next 3-4 weeks of assignments.
I am available to help tutor kids before and after school, but I have not had many come in.

Still, it is not sufficient for some reason. We are raising a generation of young people to shift responsibility and work off of their shoulders onto others. In the short time I have been a teacher (six years, ten if you count my alternative school time), I sensed the decline grow steeper. By this, I mean that students are getting better at not learning. Now, I am not idealizing the good ole days when I worked on lessons in the wee hours of the night. "Three's Company" and Spiderman comics were more interesting to me than reading Huckleberry Finn and filling out worksheets on geometric problems. But, when my poor grades arrived, my parents blamed only one. Me. I couldn't imagine my mom calling the teacher to complain about my D in English, citing the problem as "Ron feels that you don't like him," or "Ron was quite busy around the house. I am to blame for that." I have heard both of these excuse sitting on the other side of the teacher desk, let me tell you. When parents do this, a powerful– and damaging – is learned.

I want kids to enjoy my classes. With this, I want them to earn good grades. But I cannot work harder on their grades than they are. They are the ones that need to do the assignments. I'll help, of course, but I'm not going to give As automatically. If they are involved in sports, they need to work harder to make up missing assignments. [Note: I continue to desire to work at a school without sports. I believe that if schools removed those programs, the academics would improve. Both schools I've worked at state that "academics comes before athletics," but neither of them do that. If coaches stopped with the "dumb jock" stereotype, perhaps students would, too.]

Thus ends the invective.

Starbucks Store Count

Seoul-108 stores

Portland-57 stores

Rhode Island-12 stores