J-walking and sarcasm

Seoul has everything. Or so it seemed at first. However, with time (though not too much of it has passed) I have noticed the unfortunate shortage of two commodities, namely J-walking and sarcasm. As always, let me first address the latter. Actually, there is not much to address, since it is both non-existent, and since there is absolutely nothing I can do about it having no ability to communicate in Korean (then how have I noticed this flaw?...). The first, however, is highly conspicuous. Witnessing herds of Koreans gather patiently on the sidewalks even though no automated vehicle can be spotted on the horizon is a rather troubling sight. Nonetheless, this minor fault can be readily fixed. Although, at first, detaching from the gravity of the crowd was not as easy as one might initially have thought, the task is feasible. I now proudly J-walk through the streets of Seoul. Perhaps my single, humble contribution to the Korean nation, the single trace I shall leave behind me, would be the practice of J-walking. After all, they are fast learners.


Another aspect of my grasp of reality which was brutally shattered is the concept of age. Age - it seems such a trivial concept. And yet, it appears that the way the western world measures one's progress towards death is rather arbitrary. For the Koreans use an entirely different system. The newborn is immediately granted a year of age. Gratis, no catch involved. At the next new year, the child is announced to be two years old. And another year is added with each new year. Hence, the moment I set foot on Korean concrete, I became two years older. New wrinkles appeared at the sides of my eyes, and several hairs turned white. I may have gained an extra pound, but, unfortunately, it seems I have not gained wisdom. I thought we were supposed to exchange youth for wisdom, but I guess I was ripped off.


Besides counting their age differently, Koreans also seem to handle alcohol differently. It is a known fact that Asians have trouble coping with alcohol, yet this does not seem to bother them a bit. That is how I have come to behold the phenomenon referred to as "Asian glow". The Asian reaction to alcohol is most commonly a reddening of the face, or, more imaginatively put, "glowing", but can also be a skin-rash, an overpowering itch, or a majestic singing talent.





While the inhabitants of Seoul glow with reddish delight to their hearts content, a yellow threat looms at the north. T'is the yellow dust, blowing from the north of China, sweeping and accumulating the Chinese pollutants, carrying them across the Yellow Sea and the red North Korea to the lungs of the South Koreans. Such a mixture of red and yellow cannot possibly be anything less than a health hazard, and already airway masks are making their premier appearance. I suspect more and more of these masks shall be seen, until the yellow dust shall envelope us all in its midst, and masks nor men shall be seen again.





On a lighter note, I have finally managed to choose my courses for the semester. They shall consist of the following: For the mind - a Korean language course, 5 days a week; For the soul - an Asian cinema course; And for the troubled psych - a management course from the MBA program. Since I have, as of yet, not reconciled with Time, and do still object to the notion of the past being unchangeable, I would like to have a glimpse of the roads not taken. Other than that, yesterday I took a salsa class. I believe that more than I enjoyed the class itself, I took pleasure in the fantastically bizarre scene of an Israeli learning salsa in Korean...