The Star Man steals my date

For the past few weeks, I have been having really strange and vivid dreams. Strange dreams are nothing new to me, but they usually dissipate within moments of waking. Recently however, I have been remembering almost every dream in great detail. There have been a few involving people I haven't thought of or spoken to in years. There is one in particular involving a person that I barely even know, but for some reason holds a prominent place in my subconscious. Last night's dream is by far the most bizarre of the bunch, and I'd like to share it with you. Seeing as how I have at least 5 friends with Psych majors, maybe one of you can tell me 'what it all means' or whatever.

The dream begins during a David Bowie concert at a venue which vaguely resembles the Orpheum Theatre in Boston. At this point in the dream, the only thing I am aware of is the venue, David Bowie, and the fact that I am there with a group of people whom I know, but their identity is unclear. I remember getting excited when Bowie played Panic of Detroit, especially the line "looks a lot like Che Guevara." I really like singing that line for some reason. Then things get a little hazy at this point but I do recall him playing some sort of muddled mix of 5 Years and Star Man. Then he goes into this song that I don't know, and based on the crowd's reaction, nobody else knows it either. The band meanders along some lame jam while Bowie delicately strikes a triangle. I distinctly remember the triangle because I was thinking that only Bowie pull that off.

For some reason we all know that this is the end of Bowie's set and a lot of people start to trickle out of the theatre. This makes me mad for some reason and I start yelling at the people as they walk out. "You assholes. You're gonna miss the encore. It's the best part of the show." I was totally convinced that Bowie was going to blow our minds during the encore. And for some strange reason my subconscious began confusing David Bowie with Daft Punk at this point. I had it in my head that Bowie was going to do the Superheroes/Human After All/One More Time encore from Daft Punk's Alive 2007 tour, quite possibly the single best live music experience of my life. But that's a whole different story.

Anyway, all of my 'friends' are trying to leave with the rest of the crowd but I keep telling them to stay because I know what he's going to play for the encore. The funny thing is, I don't even remember what he did play as an encore in the dream, because then find myself in an alley after the show, with some girl who I know was my 'date' in the dream but this is definitely not a person I've met in reality. She was, however, very attractive.

So I approach Bowie as all these people are trying to get records signed and pictures or whatever, and I think I'm so suave, so I just say "Hey Mr. Bowie. I'd just like to shake your hand and tell you I'm a big fan." So Bowie stops what he's doing, looks over at me and shakes my hand, obviously unimpressed with me in general. He does however take a liking to my 'date' and begins to fondle her breasts without saying a word. She seems pretty pumped about the fact, and I just sort of stand there knowing that I can't really do anything about it. So then I walk away as I hear my date and David Bowie giggling and groping in some back alley in what is probably Boston, Massachusetts. And this is when I wake up in South Korea to the sound of a blaring alarm clock.

Yeah, I know that nobody cares about other people's dreams, and I generally don't either. But this one has been stuck in my head all day and I'm still trying to decipher it's mysterious meaning. If I were to self-diagnose, I'd probably say that this dream reveals the fact that I am insecure about women and I think about music way too much...both of which may or may not be true.

Let Me Tell You About My Home

So I have officially hit the two-month mark on my little Korean adventure. I've gotten into a daily routine and have started to feel at home, at least as much as I can. So I figure I'd give a little visual tour for my reader(s) back home who may or may not be interested in my new 'hood.

The specifics: I live in Suseo-dong (dong essentially meaning town) which is located within Gangnam-gu (gu meaning district). Suseo is a relatively poor town located within the most wealthy district in Seoul...go figure? Within my short period of time here, I've grown to love my strange little piece of the city. Foreigner sitings are extremely rare here, so I like to consider myself the official US ambassador to Suseo, and I treat my neighbors as such. As I have said before, I live in an Officetel which is a building consisting of small offices and studio apartments.

Here is a shot of my building:

The strange part about living here is that I could live in this building and never step foot outside if I felt like it. The subway station is located directly below. So in the mornings, I don't even walk outside until I get to my destination. I lived here for literally two weeks before I even explored the neighborhood outside. Even now when I walk outside it feels sort of strange and surreal to be walking down these streets that gazed upon from my tower. Speaking of windows (not really), the best part about my apartment is the view. Here is a night shot I took a few weeks ago.

So, yeah...I like the view. So, let me tell you a little about my building. I come home every day, get off of the subway, walk up the stairs, through the gate, and into this madness:

Though it looks relatively harmless in this photo, this elevator is over-crammed from the hours of about 9:00am to 10:00pm. The elevator goes up to the E-Mart, a tightly packed insanity-driven grocery store that I visit almost every day with great anticipation and enthusiasm. First, the same guy is there day in and day out, standing at the entrance, waiting to thank you and bow deeply as you enter, as if he is absolutely humbled by your presence in his E-Mart. This made me extremely uncomfortable for like 2 weeks, but now I enjoy the pleasure I get from his appreciation. One time last week he bowed to the lady before me and then DIDN'T bow to me. I almost turned around and slapped him with my basket. Instead, I just took an extra sample of delicious bread to calm myself down. The samples are maybe the best part about the E-Mart, and I have a daily route. First I hit the delicious bread, then I make my way past the tray of mixed nuts, which is usually unstocked. Whoever is in charge of that nut tray should get canned...totally unacceptable. Anyway, I then cruise by the fish lady, say hello, and snag a toothpick full of delicious fish. Next stop is the "side dish" lady, who has a whole tray full of my favorite Korean side dishes. I take my pick, sometimes make a purchase, but usually just give a little smile and make my way towards the next free bee. The next is the Bulgogi (Korean-style beef). Every day I sample the beef and every day I almost buy some...but I don't. So I move on to the final sample, which is this absolutely orgasmic Korean soy drink. I have no idea what it's called but it tastes like a little piece of heaven every time I lift that half-shot sized plastic cup to my lips. The best part is that there are always at least three women standing around trying to sell me the soy drink, but it's insanely expensive. At this point, they have to recognize me as "that white kid who always mooches our soy drink samples" seeing as how I've never seen another non-Asian in the E-mart. Either way, I'm going to keep sampling until someone stops me. 

Here is a shot of the E-Mart in all it's glory.

As you can see, it's pretty tightly packed in here. Walking in there between the hours of 6:00 and 8:00pm is not advisable unless you enjoy being constantly shoved by old Korean women...which I do.

Okay, so the tour is almost over. There is just one more bit of information that I need to share with you. So, if you refer back to the photo of the E-mart elevator, look to the left. The glass structure to the left is actually the entrance to a vast network of small shops and restaurants. This is also the way that I must walk in order to get to my elevator. I have only ventured to four or five out of the twenty or so restaurants in this maze, but I've had great experiences at all of them. Every morning I get a $.50 piece of toasted bread wrapped around sliced bananas on my way to the subway. I have a serious crush on the woman who works at the Toast stand where this daily transaction takes place. No matter how tired or grumpy I may be, I always throw on a big smile for Toast Lady. Its insane too, because she is ALWAYS there. The woman literally works at least 12 hour shifts, unless she goes home and takes a siesta during the afternoon. We smile at each other as I pass in the afternoons or evenings as I walk out. She sort of breaks my heart - this beautiful woman, trapped inside of a Toast Stand day after day, sitting on her stool, reading a book and flipping breakfast sandwiches. Maybe someday she and I can sit down over a delicious Kimbap and talk about our hopes and dreams.

Anyway, enough about unrequited love. One of the coolest things that has happened to me is how I have become a regular at this little Korean joint on this floor. I waltz in there one or two times a week and the woman who works the floor always shows me to the same seat facing the TV, cause she knows I'm alone. She'll sit with me as I eat and we'll watch her Korean dramas. She'll make comments and I'll nod or laugh as if I understand. It's really a great thing we have going. Plus I can literally get a feast for $5, eat as many side dishes as I can stuff, and walk out of there without being expected to pay a tip. 

So here is a few pictures of the hall of restaurants.

So that’s my home. Yes, it’s strange. No, it’s not really a home, but I like it. Unfortunately, due to problems beyond me control I am going to have to move to a different location. That will hopefully happen within the month of November. So I will be sure to give another detailed tour of my new place. I’ll probably still come back to Suseo though, to smile at Toast Lady, or watch Korean dramas with my waitress friend, or just to get shoved around a little bit buy an old Korean woman buying her potatoes and bricks of tofu.

How to Live on Earth

Life seems simple when it's raining in October, and you're riding on a bus in Seoul listening to Counting Crows deep cuts. Is that lame? Probably, but you'll understand exactly what I mean if you listen to the song "Speedway" at just the right moment.

Most other times, life seems very complicated. One moment you're on top of the world, the next moment you get anxious about nothing, then you decide you want to learn how to play the banjo, then you miss your sister. 

I realized earlier today that my musical tastes lately have leaned heavily on the "light" side. Am I becoming old and lame? Have I turned into one of those people that think Sky Blue Sky is a 'nice' album? Though I don't know the answer to these questions, I do know that the most revelatory musical experience I've had in the past month occurred while listening to Bruce Hornsby on the subway. 

Light music can be very comforting. I think that is probably why I have gravitated towards Ryan Adams or Van Morrison lately, as opposed to say, Animal Collective or My Bloody Valentine. Seoul is crazy. Imagine living alongside 13 million people that have the most intense work ethic imaginable and glare at you for wearing a sweatshirt. Having spent four years in Burlington, where a clean-cut face and sweater would look out of place, this is a little tough to get used to. 

I'm not sure what that has to do with anything, but I'm a sort of delirious and jacked up on Coke Zero...so just bear with me for a minute. This all made sense when I was thinking about spilling my guts on the bus earlier. Now I can't remember what I had to say. It had something to do with the fact that Adam Duritz doesn't get the credibility that he deserves, and that Ryan Adams used to write great songs. Is it a coincidence that they have collaborated on a few songs? Probably not. They both owe an incredible debt to Neil Young, write great pop songs, and have a tendency for sentimentality. "When you're young, you get sad and you get high." How fucking great is that line?

Well now I am off to a Rooftop Mexican BBQ on rainy day in South Korea. I tip my hat towards you, the reader....for reading this even though it lacks any hint of entertainment or Korean madness. 

PS...listen to Bon Iver

PPS...I'm pretty sure that there is a law in South Korea stating that you MUST carry an umbrella if it rains.

PPPS...Every time I see an umbrella, I sing "ELLA A A A" in my head and giggle.

PPPPS...All you Massholes better vote YES on Question 2.

PPPPPS...How to Live on Earth is the name of a movie that got rave reviews at the Pusan International Film Festival and just so happens to be directed by the husband of one of my colleagues. Yesterday I asked her if the movie explains how to live on earth and her response kills me. 

"well....maybe...if you think about it a certain way"

Thats sort of how I feel about Dazed and Confused

Pop Quiz!

Which of the following incidents from yesterday is the most absurd?

A.) Being forced to take shots at lunch by other teachers.

B.) Hitting my Principal with a line drive during a casual game of T Ball.

C.) One of my students telling me that his nickname is R. Kelly because his skin happens to be slightly darker than the average Korean.

D.) Getting offered a cigarette from my students after catching them smoking behind the school.

Kid Rock: douche bag or true American hero?

"cause freedom ain't so free when you breath red, white, and blue"

Cooper gets Plastic Surgery

Last weekend I had an unfortunate altercation with the sidewalk, resulting in lots of blood and a fairly nasty cut directly above my right eye. Lacking any medical common sense, I decided simply to clean the cut out and throw a band aid over it. Flash forward to Monday morning, and every teacher in my school is asking me why I have a large band aid above my eye. Now granted, most of the teachers do not even speak enough English to understand my explanation, but they ask anyway...mostly by pointing at the cut. One of the teachers takes it upon herself to go get the school nurse to take a look. So I take the band aid off while 5 or 6 teachers look on in wild anticipation. The nurse takes a look and tells me that I need to get stitches right away. Everyone seems very concerned at the possibility of a scar, as if it is a crucial health concern. "Oh, that's ok" I say. "I don't mind if I have a scar. It's like a free souvenir." That only made things more confusing, as most of them didn't know the meaning of the word souvenir, and I obviously had no clue as to the Korean equivalent.

So one of my co-teachers tells me that she knows a Plastic Surgeon who can stitch me up for the reduced price of $100. This doesn't sound too appealing to me, since I could get stitches at a nearby hospital for free. I express this concern to her and she informs me that a Plastic Surgeon uses "special delicate" stitches that reduce the possibility of a scar. Again, I say that I don't really care about a scar. I'm more concerned with saving $100. However, nobody seems to understand how I could possibly not care about having a scar. "But...it's your face!!" they keep telling. So finally I cave, and decide to let me co-teacher take me to her doctor friend after school. Honestly, shelling out $100 seemed easier than trying to explain that I wouldn't mind a scar.

I'm standing on the subway platform with Ms. Choi when I hear someone yell "COOPER" from across the tracks. I turn around to see another teacher from my school yelling my name and waving her arms. "Cooper," she says, "My brother is a Plastic Surgeon and I call him to see if he help you. He can give surgery at 6:00 if you will come with me now." I look to Ms. Choi with a face that says, "Can you please figure this out?" Luckily she can read my face, so she and the other teacher (Ms. Hwang) start speaking in Korean to each other. From what I could gather, they were both going back and forth as to who should bring me to get the surgery. Ms Hwang seemed to be the more aggressive of the two and eventually won the battle. So I thanked Ms Choi and headed over to the other side of the tracks.

Ms. Hwang and I take the subway to her apartment, so that we can grab her car. However, there is a van parked perpendicular to her car. So it appears to me that we won't be able to get out. It turns out I'm wrong, and Ms Hwang tells me to get on one side, while she stands on the other, and we begin to push the van forward in order to get her car out. Apparently, this sort of parking style is common in Korea. Once we finally got the van out of the way, we hopped in her car and headed to the doctor.

On the way to the office, Ms Hwang informs me that her brother is one of Korea's most renowned Plastic Surgeons, which is a big deal when you consider that Korea has the highest rate of plastic surgery in the world. Apparently this guy has cut open celebrities and politicians both nationally and world-wide. When we arrive at his office in Apgujeong (the Beverly Hills of Seoul) and walk into his waiting room, I felt like I just stepped into the Korean version of Nip/Tuck. Im surrounded by attractive young Korean women sitting on black leather chairs and chatting on cell phones, while the Doctor's gorgeous receptionist immediately begins offering me all sorts of beverages. The whole thing was quite surreal and I couldn't help but smile to myself.

So we sit in the waiting room for a while, and I finally realize that I have no idea what the hell is going on. I'm praying that I will get some sort of anesthetic during the procedure, and that I won't be shelling out $300 to Dr. Swank. After a few minutes a nurse comes downstairs, brings me to the operating room, and has me lie down on the table. After dabbling all sorts of liquid onto my wound, she places a sheet over my head, completely covering my entire face except for the right side of my forehead. Then the Doctor comes in, reassures me in broken English that, after receiving a few painful shots, I won't feel a thing for hours. We talk about Nip/Tuck, Philadelphia, and college. He even laughs at me when I tell him I majored in English Literature. 45 minutes and 27 stitches later, the doctor is leading me out the door with a script and a handshake. He tells me that there is no charge for the surgery because he can tell that I am "a good guy, who's not in Korea to make money, but to experience all of the country's beauty." I thank him roughly 14 times before he shoves me out the door, but not before I get to say goodbye to his lovely receptionist.

On the drive back to my apartment, I remember staring out the window watching the night fall over Gangnam, the sun already set, but the sky still pink - my favorite time of day. There was an overwhelming sense of calm and rhythm to the streets around me, a feeling I had thought was impossible to get in Seoul. Ms. Hwang started laughing, turned to me and said, "Cooper, you know, not many people get plastic surgery for free. You have unlikely experience today."

"That's very true," I said. Though, I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that I was missing out on a good scar.

Two things I miss