Good lord, oh my god, jesus christ and other outrageous outbursts

I'm sure there are many people who have been waiting for at least one of these exclamations, not to mention more about the random things in Korea I've run across in recent weeks that have prompted me to say them under (and sometimes over) my breath. For those of you lucky enough not to know, "Good lord" et. al. are my Pavlov-like reactions to any bit of news, gossip, action, animation or smidgeon of information that causes me, involuntarily, to be shocked, outraged or just plain sad at the world.

A sampling of past stories that brought about my whiny outcry: The first time I read the actual Associated Press wire, where I found a story about a man who called 911 after a bee flew into his ear before stinging him. Or, the time I saw we had a story budgeted for The Post-Standard about a horse farm that sold horse urine. (For what purpose, I can't remember. I've never been in need of horse urine, and, feeling lucky about that, I've forgotten the need for the product. The fact that a market exists is really all I have to know.)

Sometimes the items aren't as enjoyable as horse urine. The man who slit his daughter's throat during a cab ride in Syracuse, part of a custody fight. Or, more recently, those few thousand people in Ohio who managed to steer our course for the next four years.

Usually, to my friends and co-workers' annoyance, I almost never explain the thing that causes my outburst. They used to sit at their desk and wait, finally standing up and peering over the cubicle to ask, "What?"

So, to make up for that frustration, here are some observations and experiences I've been storing for a while. I couldn't hold back any more when I learned this Korean tradition about a month ago. (I warn you, this information may be a little graphic.)

A Korean paper in early January ran a list of things that were likely to change, or at least begin to change, in the next year. For instance, many businesses here are transitioning from a six-day- to a five-day-a-week schedule. Not-so-buried in the list was this interesting transformation -- women may no longer get a day a month for their troubles. I immediately called Hae-rym over.

What is this? I asked. Is this about periods? Oh yes, she said. I rolled my eyes and began my protests. Are you kidding me? They've made menstruation a chronic illness that requires a day off? I couldn't stop laughing and yelling, all at the same time. It's ridiculous, I said. It's like giving off a day a month for a bad night's sleep or a hangover. You can't call in sick for that, well, certainly not each and every month.

But you don't understand, she said. Women in Korea, they have to work, manual jobs for little money, six and seven days a week. They also have to raise the children and do all the housework, with no help expected from the men. It's their one day off. I said, do you get one for this job, and she said no, because she works for a U.S. outfit.

And just as I began to feel a little sympathy, she said, "So my friends are calling all the time wanting to know when my period day is so we can go to lunch." I gave her a look that said she was out of her mind, and she began giggling. It really is just about shopping, chocolate and television re-runs, all sanctioned at least for now, by the government. Good lord.

Other moments in the last few months:

Tuesday night at one of the restaurants on Yongsan Garrison boasts an Oriental buffet. And the grocery store on base directs people to Aisle 4 for Oriental Foods. In Seoul, I tell you. Unbelievable.

At Christmas, one of the many Santas on Yongsan straddled a Star of David in front of the Burger King. An illuminated crèche decorated the on-base video store. Other Santas stretched out in various poses throughout Dragon Hill Lodge, the big hotel on base. By stretched out, I mean on his tummy with legs crossed in the air...perched on a brick pillar, with one leg lifted just so...they all have surprisingly short coats, so that Santa's backside shows in perfect splendor. So very odd.

The way men spit everywhere. And it’s not just spitting. It’s a practice that comes with a drawn-out, completely unselfconscious hacking and wracking of lungs and throat that occurs before each expectoration. What might possibly be worse, outside of nearly being spit on several occasions, is the way the evidence of this habit freezes to the sidewalks and roads during winter. Seoul is in desperate need of a long, cleansing rain.

The exchange rate on base is much worse than off base. I don’t understand why, even though I’ve written about it three or four times. The military rates erode the dollar’s ever-shrinking value so dramatically that, as of this week, $1 equals about 1,000 won on base while $1 can get you 1020 to 1030 at money exchange shops in Seoul. It’s obviously about profit margins, but it’s a little unnerving to think about how might be making the bigger profit – a U.S. bank with a contract to service military members or a local mom-and-pop store. Worse, many of the 19-year-old soldiers here can barely afford to withdraw money, yet they are much more likely to go to the on-base ATM then wander around Korean streets looking for a better deal.

Sometimes when you get in a cab and tell the driver where you’d like to go, he won’t budge. No, he’ll grunt. He doesn’t want to take you to your destination because there’s too much traffic, it would require a u-turn, he doesn’t like to drive in that part of town. He’ll refuse, despite the fact that the rider, well, me, is willing to pay for every long minute of the drive. There may be some inequity about the cab fares and snarling traffic, but I doubt it. I just think they don’t want to sit in traffic. I can’t blame them, except that this game of going through two or three cabs until finding a more patient driver has a tendency to make me late for press conferences. Jesus Christ.

In many Korea restaurants, some of the dishes are prepared for two or more people. That means you often can’t order what you want, cause only one person at the table wants the fish or tofu stew while the other wants a more singular meal of bulgogi or bimbipap. This happens even if the diner, well, me, is willing to pay for two meals. The waiter just won’t serve it. I don’t understand. I’ve certainly been known to eat, if not purchase, two meals at a time.

I should call the man who works as the building manager who works at my villa “adashee,” or uncle, a term designated for older men, especially in service jobs. But I’ve taken to calling him the garbage nazi, because he meticulously goes through mine every time I bring bags downstairs. Apparently I’m not sorting correctly, and have a piece of bread in the garbage bag when I should have it in the food waste bag or something to that effect. At first I felt bad…maybe the owner of the building gets fined if everything isn’t just perfect. Yet take a couple of steps outside my apartment (which costs $3,000 a month) and you’ll find garbage everywhere. It’s in bags, out of bags, strewn in and around a stack of three abandoned car tires that have been on my corner since I moved in. My adashee, Mr. Lee, smokes. I’ve seen him flinging cigarettes on the street. I have no confidence in Seoul’s recycling program, to say the least.

Another note about cleanliness: Although not as frequently as in Japan, many people here wear hospital-style face masks to ward off catching colds or the flu. That seems smart, except that there often is no soap in public bathrooms. This is also true in some restaurants. Hmmm.

I’m sure there are more examples, but those are the ones that come to mind tonight. Of course, none of this undermines all the interesting and welcoming things I’ve run into here. Mr. Lee is friendly, and I suppose he can sort my garbage if he wants. He does little else all day but smoke, anyway. Many cab drivers have given me impromptu Korean lessons, especially those that drove me to my language classes last year. When a cab driver takes me to the wrong place, he always back tracks and charges me less than the stated fare because he feels bad.

But, of course, then you run into a story like this, which ran in a Korean newspaper a couple of weeks ago.

Headline: Schoolgirls to get day off during period
Story: Under a Ministry of Education proposal, adolescent schoolgirls will be eligible to take a day off every month when their menstrual period occurs. Seo Yeong-ju, an official of the Education Ministry, said, "This menstrual policy has no precedence anywhere in
the world, but we intend to introduce it to protect the health rights and maternity prospects of female students." Ministry officials said the proposal falls in line with policies governing females in the work force who are allowed a day off during their menstrual period. The new policy would allow girls who have reached puberty to skip classes in elementary, middle and high school, if they provide written assurances from their parents that they are menstruating. The ministry drafted the new policy on "Female Education Policy” and presented it yesterday to the consultative body on equal education for men and women. At the same time, some officials are worried that students might take advantage of the policy. One issue concerns students who take time off on an exam day. Under the policy, such a student can have her grades from a prior exam reflected as her marks on the missed test. Thus, if students score well on mid-terms and use the menstrual day for finals, then they can use the high grades for their final as well.

So here’s to the Korean school girl who gets her friends to forge a note to the school nurse, heads to the nearest mall and spends the day shopping, all the while knowing that her final exam scores will magically mirror her those from the last period. Good lord.