To start out this entry I just wanted to say that the whole of my kindergarten experience was redeemed by this one little kid. I literally had lost sleep the night before my Wednesday kindergarten classes – I had nightmares about the kids coming in and destroying me (biting and punching included). So by the time I got to the school I was already exhausted.
I was sitting in the room hating life and my first class busted through the doors. There was much screaming and spinning in circles. I breathed out a huge, resigned sigh just when I felt a little pair of arms wrap around my legs. I look down and my boy Coline (I don’t know why it’s spelled that way…) was hugging me.
“Hello, Teddy Teacher,” he said.
And then I couldn’t hate them anymore.
OMG! Are you guys talking about the Hamburger Gang too?!
On Thursdays my co-worker got me into going to these English meetings. It’s mostly Koreans and a few foreigners, but everyone gathers around and just discusses issues in English. I’ve really enjoyed it because it gives some cultural insight and is also one of the most awkward things ever…which I, of course, thrive on.
This past week we had a discussion on abortion…we can all imagine how that went. The highlight actually occurred after the abortion discussion, however. We were starting to do free discussion and one of the guys in my group turned to me. He asked me what kind of food is famous in Chicago.
[This is a disclaimer: I have to claim Chicago while in Korea because no one knows where Sherman, IL is. I am not proud of this fact. Central IL 4 LIFE.]
I told him pizza and then we had a small discussion. Then he made a joke and asked me if I knew any gangs in Chicago. I said there were gangs and then the lady beside me started laughing hysterically.
She says, “Oh my God! The Hamburger gang!”
Everyone in the group sort of looked at each other and awkwardly smiled. I think she somehow got lost in the transition between food and gangs. She sensed the awkwardness so she tried to clear things up by saying,
“You know? Can you imagine them eating hamburgers and gambling?” She was still laughing like crazy. I made eye contact with the girl across the table from me and was glad that she was wearing the same look of confoundedness that I was. I laughed along with the lady because it would be super awkward to have that situation hit a point where someone was like, “What the eff are you talking about?” My thinking was that as the foreigner at the table, if I kept laughing people would think it was a legitimate Western joke. Like we walked down the street and say something like,
“Did you hear the one about the frolicking dead cow?... He was a Hamburger Gamboler! HAHAHAHAHA!”
This lady speaks English well, so everyone was really confused about this comment. I, of course, almost lost it when she made the gambling hamburger comment. I was also thrilled that the meeting matched up to my expectations of awkwardness. Booyah!
Now we get to the important part of this entry – how friggin’ hott I am [in Korea].
I have acknowledged how much attention I get over here, but this week it has been ridiculous. It actually stems from my co-worker (the same one I go to the English meetings with). She is super nice, and she always comments on how handsome I am. At dinner she will always ask questions about my Aryanness. I.e. “Are your brothers blond like you?” She also asks me to judge other people on their beauty/handsomeness because my looks make me some kind of expert; i.e. “Who is more handsome in Gossip Girl Chuck or Nate?” She has a boyfriend, and she by no means means anything by it, but it makes me a little uncomfortable. The first time we met she leaned over and was like, “You’re like really handsome…” Picture when Cadie meets Regina in Mean Girls.
It kind of reached an apex today. Outside of my co-worker I got out of work early and walked to a restaurant for dinner. A girls’ school had just let out of classes, so the streets were flooded with a tidal wave of estrogen. As I walked down the street I have never been stared at so much in my life. Girls were giggling, pointing, clutching each other – all because I was walking down the street. At the restaurant I stopped in the lady asked me if I was Russian. I wished I knew the Korean for “Yeah – you can tell because I’m like a more ripped version of Ivan Drago.”
On the bus to the English club my co-worker laughed like crazy when we were getting ready to get off. She whispered in my ear, “Everyone is staring at you because you’re so handsome.”
I also want to point out how good I don’t look currently. As well as not having worked out in a month, I have probably lost about five pounds since coming over. In addition to how thin I am, the Korea air has made me break out like whoa. My forehead is a veritable mountain range of acne. The day that all this was occurring I also had a breakout on my nose area, so that when I went to the meeting I had two enormous white heads on the side of my nose and my cheek. If I met someone in America looking like I do now they would probably refer to me as “Pizza Face Blonde Boy.”
“Hey, who was the guy we were hanging out with the other night?”
“Which one?”
“The pizza faced albino dude.”
“Oh, that’s Tedd…he’s kind of a big deal in Korea.”
At the English club my co-worker introduced me around. The introductions went something like, “This is my friend, Tedd. Isn’t he handsome?” I would turn like bright and laugh… When we separated into our groups we sat at the table and one woman turned to me and said, “You look very young.” One of the other girls in the group was like, “Yeah, he’s really handsome. That’s the word you’re looking for.” Then the other lady was like, “No…I mean he looks really young.” To which the other responded, “Handsome.” The first lady proceeded to get out her dictionary.
At the end of the club I walked to the bus stop with this really cool Korean guy. He’s a good looking guy himself – built like a brick house. As we waited for the bus we were chit chatting and he was like, “Do you have a girlfriend.” I responded no, then he was like, “Why not? You know you’re like really handsome.”
So I’ve been told.
I’m just looking forward to the day when I’m middle aged, single and a chain smoker and can look out at the world and shake my fist.
“Goddam it,” I’ll repine, “I used to be so handsome in Korea!”
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