The MT

No, not that MT!

In Korea, an MT is "membership training," rather than your former swim coach.

As my time here approaches its end, my professor insisted that it was time for the lab to have an MT. At first, I thought this was a lab-specific term for some arcane hazing ritual that I would have to endure; however, I learned from a Korean friend that the "MT" is actually a common Korean tradition, whereby a group of Koreans goes on a retreat outside of the city to drink too much, sing at a noraebang, and then sleep off their collective hangover.

And, in a nutshell, that's exactly what happened on this "MT." Originally, we were going somewhere outside of Seoul to stay in a traditional Korean village on Friday night and then do some hiking on Saturday morning... but, thanks to the infernal rain, we ended up staying in the city, actually at a youth hostel near the Seoul tower. Which was quite an experience, since all the guys, professor and postdocs included, shared one big "youth" room - essentially 12 bunkbeds and one bathroom. One of my labmates said it reminded him of his time the Army. Sweet!

But before we crashed at the youth hostel, we went to the movies. In the afternoon, there were slim pickings - it basically came down to either Garfield or a Korean movie (without subtitles) 괴물 ("The Host"). And there was no frickin' way I was going to see Garfield... so I went to see 괴물, even though I figured I wouldn't figure out what was going on.

Before we went, my labmates told me the movie was about a monster. Lots of action, they promised. Sounds good, I thought! Well, let me give you the plot run-down:

1. An evil American orders a Korean lab technician to pour hundreds of gallons of formaldehyde in the Han River, despite the technicians protests that formaldehyde is very toxic.
2. Said formaldehyde generates a gigantic water monster. One random day, the monster decides he's had enough of eating fish and emerges from the river to start eating people. Yeah.
3. After eating his fill, the monster kidnaps a young, innocent Korean girl and takes her back to his lair.
4. Concerned that the monster might be spreading some kind of toxic virus, the American Army arrives to quarantine everyone exposed to the monster, including the distraught family of the kidnapped girl. Of course, there's no such virus - but for some unexplained reason, the Americans are overly paranoid and refuse to acknowledge the virus' non-existence despite the overwhelming evidence.
   
5. Thankfully, the little girl's family knows that she is alive back in the monster's lair because she calls them on her cell phone. (No Korean movie would be complete without using cell phones to advance the plot...) Despite their pleas, the little girl's father, aunt, and grandfather are kept under quarantine and not allowed to attempt the rescue of their baby.
6. Father, aunt, and grandfather stage a daring escape from quarantine by threatening American soldiers with a vial of "contaminated" blood.
   
7. The little girl's family eventually rescues the girl from the monster's lair, only to have to monster follow them back onto shore, where a huge battle ensues. The Koreans eventually defeat the monster by using Molotov cocktails made from soju bottles and some expert archery skills (the aunt happens to be an international archery star)
8. Unfortunately, immediately after killing the monster and saving the little girl, the evil Americans drop a bomb filled with toxic gas named "Agent Yellow," which is supposed to kill the virus. Of course, Agent Yellow kills the valiant, plucky little girl who had just been rescued.
9. Thankfully, a young boy who had also been kidnapped by the monster survives the Agent Yellow attack, so the family adopts the little boy and lives happily ever after.

So, the moral of the story is that horrible tragedies befall the Korean people because of the negligence and malevolence of the Americans. America is evil! I was half worried that I might become the victim of an anti-American hate crime after the movie, but somehow I escaped unharmed. But, hey, at least the action was good!

After the movie, we went to a traditional BBQ restaurant for bulgogi and galbi spare ribs - mmm... My first indication that it was going to be a rough night for my labmates was when my professor broke out the bottles of Scotch. And after the Scotch, he ordered beer. Which was followed by Korean ginseng wine. Which led to bottles of soju...

Before coming here, we were repeatedly told about how Koreans love drinking (some even refer to it as the Korean national pastime), but this was the first time I've actually seen my labmates really drink. It revealed a whole new side of them - of course, the people who are normally quiet and businesslike got the drunkest, including the new postdoc and one of the undergrads. It's also tradition that the professor takes one shot of alcohol with everyone... individually! So he was wandering around the dining room, pouring shots for each person and then doing one himself... (OK, he was only drinking 1/4-size shots, but still, with a group as large as this one, he still had to drink a lot of alcohol)

After dinner, we went to the obligatory Noraebang for some singing (I threw down some Blur, Pearl Jam, and Radiohead) and everyone continued drinking - and one by one, they started dropping. After a group of people had basically passed out in the noraebang, our professor finally told us that the "MT" had been successful and that everyone was welcome to continue, but that people were finally allowed to go home. Which I'm sure came as welcome news to those who were already passed out!

But the remaining survivors then moved on to another bar in Myeongdong, where we drank my new favorite liquor, Star (별). We ate some more, and were having a great time until the new postdoc in the lab decided it would be a good idea for him to drink shots of Star with everyone at the table. Six or seven shots later, he passed out, officially ending the night, and we all returned to the hostel to sleep it off.

Thankfully, I had paced myself pretty well all night, so I was able to walk under my own control back to the hostel...

And then Saturday morning, since we couldn't go hiking, we went to a famous restaurant in downtown for hae jang kook, or the soup that "washes your stomach." Yum - apparently, this soup is good for hangovers. My stomach, however, appreciated that fact that my labmates ordered me the hae jang kook without intestines...

All in all, a successful MT! A Korean tradition, if there ever was one...

And just so you know, little kids in Korea really do have cell phones. Here's a picture of a kid taking a picture with his phone:

Raves: My helpful labmates

It occurred to me yesterday that I haven't given enough praise to my labmates here in Korea. Not that they're reading this (I think), but I should take a moment to describe how incredibly helpful they've been in all respects of my stay here.

Before I arrived, they found me housing. Once in Seoul, 원정 came to my hotel downtown, picked me up, and helped me find my way to said summer housing. Even though the lab is very crowded, 성은 cleared off her desk and is letting me use it, inconveniencing her no to small degree. Being the new person in lab who can't really read the labels on the drawers, shelves, and cabinets, I can't find anything, and everyone has been very patient with me and goes out of their way to find me the equipment that I need.

In Danyang at the lab retreat, my roommates 현이 and 준희 sheparded me around and made sure that I wasn't missing some important seminar or poster session, since I'm often not quite sure where we're supposed to be / what's going on (such is the price of being functionally illiterate!).

And most importantly, someone (sometimes multiple people) make sure that I have plans for lunch... the list goes on and on.

Just now was a great example: I need a centrifuge to spin some cells down. The one that I normally use (and know how to reserve, use, etc.) is broken, so I asked 미영 where I could find another one, and she walked me to three different labs until we found one that was available.

Before we came to Korea, we were told that our labmates would go above and beyond the call of hospitality, but these people truly have been great. In a lot of situations, I could easily have felt really isolated, alone, and homesick, but everyone here has made the transition as easy as possible. Just wanted to mention that...

Korean celebrities

While living in LA, I have seen a grand total of one celebrity in 5 years. And it was Tommy Lee, so that barely counts. OK, I did see Woody Harrelson once, too, but still...

Well, tonight in Hongdae, I saw my first Korean celebrity:


Granted, I have no idea who he was, though my friend tells me that he's an actor. He was dressed like a Hell's Angel and had the kind of swagger that comes only when you're used to being watched. If it weren't for the gigantic gaggle of girls following him around, I would never have known he was famous.

Female science nerds

Even before I read this recent, slightly weird NYT article, I had been thinking about the topic of "Women in Science." And not just because King James really wants to meet some girls. When I first arrived, I was surprised to find that my lab is ~50% women (here's a large portion of my lab, visiting the Buddhist temple at Guinsa near Danyang):


Needless to say, quite a shock coming from CIT. But it's not just my lab; at the retreat in Danyang and in the other labs that I've visited, there are a lot of women here who are studying science. In fact, during my brief observation, Korea seems to be doing a much better job than America of keeping women in science (KAIST notwithstanding).

And this is all despite the general preference for male children (although I fail to see why "carrying on the family name" is so important in a culture where everyone is named either Kim, Park, or Lee!). Several girls have even mentioned that their parents openly favor their younger male siblings, simply because they're male.

But then this article got me thinking: I haven't met a single female professor. Not one! Perhaps women in Korea have only recently started studying science, and it's only a matter of time before they infiltrate the ranks of professors? Or is there some subtle sexism going on here, where women's careers are irrevocably interrupted by kids, because they don't have adequate support for childcare and whatnot?

I certainly don't know. Just wondering...

Thankfully, however, a Korean friend told me that Electrical Engineering and Mechanical Engineering are almost exclusively male, even in Korea. Some things are universal, I guess.

Mmm Mmm...

I just had some 버거킹 for lunch. Boy, was it tasty - I had the lunch set. For those of you unfamiliar with 버거킹, here's what it is...

But what I loved most about 버거킹 was its location: the Yonsei Hospital. Serving 버거킹's famous sandwich, the 와퍼, well that's just like keeping your cardiologists in business.

In other news, I was investigating some of the neighborhood around my dorm, when I found this quaint, little cafe:

That's right, come on down to eat at the AIDS cafe! Mmm... that sounds tasty.

But before I could nominate the AIDS cafe for "Korea's Worst Mistranslation" award, I looked a little closer and realized that the cafe is actually named this.

Common mistake on my part - I'm sure they get that all the time...

Still raining...

I really wasn't kidding about the Typhoon + Monsoon:

Which means that rather than exploring this ginormous city, I'm hanging out in my room on this Sunday (not my ideal Sunday, but relaxing nonetheless). Thankfully, my roommate informs me that the rainy season is set to end soon in Seoul - after that, the oppressively humid, hot weather will commence!

For those of you that know me (and seriously, why would anyone who doesn't know me read this drivel?!), I am a sweaty guy (it runs in the family). Which means that when it's not raining, the 15 minute walk across campus leaves me drenched. Much fun - it reminds me of my hometown, and makes me miss the dry weather of California.

But I'm not complaining - just observing. Despite the rain, I still had a great evening last night in Hongdae, a very hip area near Yonsei U that is full of bars, clubs, music venues, and on average 4 Koreans in your personal space. The original plan was to meet up with some friends to check out some of the music venues, but since the night was young, we thought we would stop into a bar for a drink. One of my friends from the Korea Summer Institute brought along two Korean girls from her lab who know the area, so we turned to them for advice on where to go. We walked for a while, but they were being indecisive, so I stepped in to suggest the one place that I do know: Nabi , a difficult-to-find, underground spot (literally) that features a dim, cave-like decor, complete with a running stream that contains floating candles and rose petals, as well as the requisite Korean hipsters smoking or playing the bongos. Needless to say, very much to my liking.

Like I said, Nabi is hard to find: go down the small, random alley and look for the small, nondescript sign that leads to the darkened stairway (every other bar is Korea has a gigantic, blinking neon sign proclaiming "Coffee / Beer / Whisky / Snack," so Nabi is an exercise in understatement). I had been there once with my Korean friend S., and I figured I would never find it again, but amazingly enough, I did find the right alley - much to the amusement of the Koreans. I was quite proud to serve as tour guide, and show off my knowledge of Hongdae. Keep in mind, this is the only place that I know in Hongdae, but it helps me pretend that I know Seoul like a native.

After we'd hung out at Nabi, we still wanted to find some live music, but unfortunately, it had started raining cats and dogs - just sheets of water coming down, which made exploring on foot, looking for a good club, seem like a less attractive option. So, we ended up at a nearby bar, Moon Yang, and had a very quiet, relaxed evening of chilling and chatting, which is more interesting if you're hanging out with new Korean friends, especially if they have traeveled / lived / studied in the States, which these girls had. Anyway, it wasn't quite the evening that we had set out for, but it was good nonetheless.

But back to today - and the rain. One benefit of my enforced indoor status is that I've been exploring YouTube - I know, everyone else was into this months ago, but I'm really just testing the waters now. So far, this short is my favorite, especially because of the main character's name:

Monsoon + Typhoon = Good Times

Nobody told me that summer is the rainy season - they really should have mentioned that! Depending on who you talk to, we're experiencing either a "monsoon" or a "typhoon," and sometimes both. Having been in LA for some time now, I've really forgotten what summer rain was like. So, when it's raining in July, my body gets confused: summer? rain? I don't get it.

One of the funny things I noticed about Seoul when I first got here was that everyone puts up their umbrellas, even when it's barely misting. The rain is so light that you're not even getting wet, yet everyone is using an umbrella! At first I just chalked it up to cultural differences, because I don't feel obliged to use an umbrella in a light mist. Then, I learned the horrible truth: acid rain. That's right, this city is so polluted that people are worried about the rain ruining their clothes and eating through their skin. The acid rain has been chronicled other places, but to make a long story short: use your umbrella. Always.

Which brings up another interesting aspect of life here: LA has a bad rap in America for smog (and deservedly so, although the smog was supposedly worse in the 60's and 70's), but Seoul puts LA to shame:

Of course, just like LA, the rain (though acidic!) has its benefits: it clears all the crap out of the air, leaving beautiful visibility of Seoul's mountainous terrain.


The downside, of course, is that when the rain clears out the smog, all that crap lands on me...

Facial hair fun...

I have never really been able to grow facial hair (see my failed attempt to grow a soul patch, circa 2003). However, something changed around my 27th birthday, and a couple days of shaving-laziness later, I inexplicably had a beard. It was amazing - almost like I had finally hit puberty. Needless to say, everyone around me strongly encouraged this new development, mostly because it was something new to mock... so I kept the beard for almost two months.

And by a wonderful coincidence, the Koreans in my lab have been obsessed with my beard. How long does it take to grow? Does it itch? Why did you grow it? One colleague even asked if he could touch it (and I let him, because aren't I a nice guy?).

Side note: sometimes sarcasm does not translate across a language barrier. For example, one labmate asked me, "How do you keep your beard clean?" Trying to be droll, I replied, with a straight face, "Well, there's this thing we have in America called soap. Have you heard of it?"

And she nodded and said, very seriously, "Yes, I have heard of soap." Needless to say, that joke did not go over very well...

But back to the real story: as time went by during my stay here, the beard kept growing and became, how shall I say? Mingin' - just plain mingin':

I could have pursued a simple trim, but that wouldn't have been much fun. After all, why grow facial hair if not for ridicule quotient?


Step 1: Mutton Chops

My odyssey started on Sunday night: mutton chops, plus the goatee.

The Koreans were confused - some seemed to think that I had done it by accident. As if I somehow forgot to shave the rest of my face.

I tried describing that these were "mutton chops," which inevitably led to the question, "Why are they called mutton chops?" Turning to wikipedia, I learned the definition of "mutton chops," which is:

A style with sideburns connected by a moustache but with a clean-shaven chin.

So I didn't actually have mutton chops. Regardless, I liked this look.

Verdict: Kinda neat. It might look even cooler without the goatee.


Step 2: Goatee

The next logical step was a goatee. Get rid of those pesky sideburns!

Some people look good with a goatee. It appears that I am not one of those people.

Verdict: Toolish. Never to be grown again.





Step 3: Moustache

Now this was a trip - a big, bushy, moustache. Immediately, I received flattering (at least I think they were flattering) comparisons to people like Ron Burgundy and child molesters. Some people out there gave me some serious props, and certain members of the WU swimming fraternity would surely have approved of my sketchy look.

Out in the streets of Seoul, I had the impression that I was being stared at even more than usual. Even Korean people know: You should never trust a guy with a moustache.

Others just said that I looked "German," which is never a compliment.

Verdict: Very Cool, as long as you don't plan on ever having a girlfriend. Nonetheless, I was sad to see the 'stache go...


Step 4: Cleanly shorn, like a baby's bottom...

Right back where I started.

Thankfully, I did not have a beard tan... for the record.

Verdict: Like Odysseus before me, I have finally returned home to square one, after an arduous journey and much mockery. Nevertheless, my Korean colleagues loved the whole ordeal, and I must say, so did I...

Argggh, matey!

I swear I am not becoming obsessed with pirates, but over the weekend, I did purchase this shirt:
Somehow, there are tons of vintage clothing stores here that sell American t-shirts. This particular one has the roster of team "Pirateball 2004" on the back - they were apparently PV (Prairie Village?) Major League champions. Congratulations, Pirateball!

And just as I was thinking about my recent non-obsession with pirates, I remembered taking this picture during our boat trip on the Hangang:

Yes, it's a Pirates of the Carribean-themed tourist boat! Something about Seoul just seems to inspire the modern-day pirate... Johnny Depp and Keira Knightley will surely be turning up soon!

Weirdness afoot in the world's largest K-town

The underpants gnomes from South Park are alive and well in Korea. Damn those gnomes! They'll be awash in profit in no time! That is, if they can figure out Step 2...

For those confused, consult the gnomes' Wikipedia entry. I can't believe someone took the time to write a Wiki about the underpants gnomes... seriously, that guy needs something better to do with his time - like a blog.

Pirates and Ex-Athletes

If you're like me, you've been asking "How can I become a pirate?" Turns out the answer is to visit Sherman Oaks with a current 3"x5" photo (via Defamer).

And if you're looking for a reason why I'm occasionally running these days, la voilà (via NYT).

Not that I claim to have ever been an athletic star.

Clothing: Where to shop

I like weird t-shirts - and so do the Koreans (although they may or may not understand what their shirts say in English). While wearing one of my "cool" t-shirts several days ago, someone asked me where I bought it, and the answer was simple: the internet.

After all, there are so many great sites for internet clothes: threadless, defunker, and found item, for a few. How could you not like internet t-shirt shopping? (Check out some of my favorite t-shirt designs, including "Ask me about becoming a pirate")

But the Koreans were aghast: "Really, you bought this online? Without seeing it? How strange!" They all agreed that they wouldn't trust buying clothes online.

However, from my perspective, buying clothes online is fine. If it doesn't fit, or you don't like it, just mail it back. What could be easier?

Well, Koreans think shopping for clothes at their famed markets is easier. To check it out, I went to the Dongdaemun nighttime market (a reputed great spot for buying clothes) on July 4th (very American of me).

And the markets are astounding - an endless maze of tiny, little stores crammed together that sell everything. Everything. It's truly a shopping paradise, except there's one tiny little problem: no dressing rooms! How do you try stuff on? My Korean chaperone told me, "You just have to know your size." Oh... well, that shouldn't be a problem for me, considering Korean t-shirts come in sizes like 90, 95, and 100.

So I didn't buy anything, because I couldn't try it on, even though it was physically in front of me. (Imagine me trying to return something in my broken Korean. Good luck with that, Navin.) But Koreans would never buy clothes online, because it's not right there in front of them.

To each country its own, I suppose.

On a final note:

Chariots of Fire

After over two weeks of relative inactivity, it has finally become time to start working off my kimchi belly. Yes, I have been walking a lot and taking the stairs quite often (since my dorm room is on the 5th floor of a building with no elevator!), but I still don't want to turn into what my friend A. describes as "the 196-lb monster." Especially with all the kimchi I've been eating.

Now, I have more or less despised running ever since high school (take that, Coach Karl!), but as far as exercising while abroad is concerned, running is a) convenient, b) cheap, and c) effective. And although I hate running at home, I do enjoy running in a new place just a teensy bit, since it gives me a chance to explore and learn my way around.

But, holy schnikes! This campus is hilly! There are steep inclines leaving every direction from my dorm. This random map that I found does the campus no justice. This photo also makes campus look rather idyllic:
And, truth be told, the campus is very pretty - as long as you're in a car, driving around it. On foot, you have to work to climb up and down all those hills. But I shouldn't complain - at least by living at Yonsei U, I have nice areas to run in. Most of Seoul is densely urban, teeming with cars and people - there would be absolutely no room for running. But on campus, there are trails and trees and a pretty good running environment, despite all those hills.

Side note: Some areas of campus are pretty deserted at night. Although decently lit, they seem a bit sketchy, shall we say, to my American sensibility. When I'm jogging, my American common sense tells me, "This doesn't seem like a smart place to be alone at night." Or, as an American colleague put it,

I would never - NEVER - walk around streets like this in D.C. without fearing for my life.

But in Korea, it seems totally safe to do so! You see unaccompanied women walking around these fairly deserted parts of campus at all times of night, apparently without fear.

I think this anecdote sums up the difference in attitudes: chugging up a hill on Monday night, there was an obviously American girl (read: white) walking on the path in front of me. I thought she heard me coming, what with my gasping for breath and loud footfalls, but apparently she didn't, because just as I was about to pass, she turned with a look of absolute terror on her face! As if she thought I might try to steal her purse or perhaps worse. (I did feel bad for scaring this poor girl and tried to apologize in between gasps...)

But when I pass Korean girls, they scarcely even give me notice. They're obviously not afraid of a stranger passing them on a darkened, deserted sidewalk. If anything, they're probably just amused to see someone jogging, because, well, it's just so American. I don't think Koreans understand the concept - and every jogger I've seen here has looked American.

More praise for that tiny place that may or may not actually be a country...

In Korea, there are certain items which are revered as status symbols: 1) a cool-looking t-shirt in English, 2) fragrant kimchi, and 3) the mobile phone. I already own many versions of #1, but as of today, I am also the proud owner of #3 - a mobile!

My own model is a rather worn, but fashionably slim, Anycall from (who else?) the chaebol Samsung, but I'm so proud to have it. A very gracious co-worker loaned me this phone that her husband used to use (presumably before he got an internet / TV / digital masseuse-enabled handset) and then she nicely accompanied me to the KTF store to help get it hooked up. Which was pretty painless, considering that I sat back and ate candy while she did all the discussing with the saleslady.

And the phone works - I can now communicate with the world, even in the depths of the subway! (Every cell phone here works everywhere in the subway, which never ceases to amaze me. I explained to my co-worker that most phones won't work in American or European subways, and she looked at me like I had just explained that we eat children for breakfast in America).

But what truly amazes me stems from an idea a friend in Korea gave me: SkypeIn. I'm starting to sound like a Luxembourghish pimp here (not that the Luxembourghish even own it anymore) but for $4/month, I purchased an American phone number from Skype (even got to choose an LA area code) and then had my calls forwarded to my Korean mobile. Presto! Someone in America can call me, Skype forwards the call to me in Korea, and I only get charged $0.07/minute! Now anyone can call me!

Well, more exactly, anyone that I like enough to actually give my new number to can call me. The rest of you still have to read the schlock I publish here.

(Long distance charges may apply)