First Time...

This place is so cool.

It really is a theme park.

There's a main gate, a cool entrance way, it's built to look like a modern-day English Village, meaning a modern-day village in England. Cobblestones line the walkways/driveways. If they were only yellow...we'd be in Oz.

There's a City Hall, a Library, and a Concert Hall. Basically everything is fake; just here to create the desired look. While City Hall does have functioning administrative offices in it, there's a fake Police Station (though we do have security), a fake bank (though employees can bank there--with an ATM card and everything), a doctor's office (though if I hurt myself, there is a real clinic) and many other role-playing places where the students learn how to speak English in an interactive way.

For example, at the bank, they pretend they're withdrawing or depositing money into their account, and they speak to an English speaking bank teller, and they have to get their phrases right. It's hilarious. They're not only encouraged but told to speak English only, no Korean. It's incredible.

Friday, for the first time, I helped in the Arts & Crafts workshop, which is in the rotunda of City Hall. For the most part, these kids do not speak English, but they will listen attentively as you tell them what to do, and they know enough about body language and physicality to know what you're talking about. Our current project in the Arts & Crafts workshop is to color a turkey tracing and coloring in your hand. I'm sure you all did this as kids. Well, Koreans do not celebrate Thanksgiving, so they're rather unfamiliar with the turkey and the holiday. As I was handing out the papers, one girl, named Sally, said "I am 100 years old." This was the first full sentence I'd heard a Korean kid say to me (besides, "Hello, how are you?" or "How old are you?" or "Nice to meet you.") I laughed, and the kids around her laughed. A girl next to her said, "No, she's 7" and held up 7 fingers. Very funny.

I proceeded to help them with their drawings. They were told to make eyes, a beak, legs, and feet. Some wrote their names on them. I'm guessing they have been given English names, either just for their trip to English Village, or from their school in general. For example, I'm certain Sally wasn't the actual girls name, nor do I think Jerry, Jonathan, Eva, or Esther were other kids given names. But maybe, I don't know.

The kids are funny, just like American kids...but I just can't understand that much of what they're saying. It's the most helpless feeling I've ever had--wanting to communicate with them, and being basically incapable of doing so.

And yesterday was the first day I signed autographs. Each child receives a Gyeonggi English Village passport when they come into the park. Their first stop when they arrive is the "Immigration Office" and they have to go through the process of getting a passport to entire the Village. It's so hilarious. So you see all these kids walking around with these little fake passports, it's very cute. Well, throughout their day, as they go from place to place, they get stamps when they attend different classes and such. Just like a regular passport, there is often lots of free space. Well, after my "Gold Rush Challenge" show yesterday, ONE girl asked for my autograph, which set off all the other kids to want one, too. For my autograph, you don't have to ask twice. The girl handed me a pen, and I signed her book, "Hello! Jason." That's all. Then I signed about 10 other passports the same way, making sure to say, "You're welcome" each time someone said, "Thank you." Aside from the coolness of signing my autograph (which I've always enjoyed, even when I was just signing my name on my desk in 8th grade World Cultures class, for which I received a detention--no joke), I love the interaction with the kids.

As you simply walk through the Village, you get kids running up to you to say "Hello! How are you?" as I mentioned before, but also yesterday was the first time that kids stopped me for an assignment. They had these little yellow books hanging around their necks, and as they read off the paper, they look at me and say, "Hello. May I ask you a few questions?" It's adorable. I say, "Yes." "Oh, thank you. What is your name?" "My name is Jason." "Oh. Okay. Where are you from?" "I am from America." "Oh. Okay. What do you do?" "I am an actor." "An actor? Oh. Okay. What is your favorite food?" "My favorite food is pizza." "Haha. Okay. What is your favorite hobby?" "My favorite hobby is singing." "Singing? Okay. Thank you!" "You're welcome, bye!"

Here's what sets me apart from other people. I'm not saying I'm better--I'm just saying I'm definitely different than other people. When I mention this rather interesting exchange to other edutainers, they say, "Oh, you think it's cute now, wait about a week! You'll see them coming and you'll just say, 'Jason. America. Actor. Pizza. Singing. Bye.'" I understand their feelings on the subject, I simply don't share them. In my opinion, to withhold a valuable exchange from even ONE child is criminal. More than likely, I will never, ever see that child again; but I do not want our meeting to be tainted by my need to "get somewhere", my desire to be left alone, or by my being sick of saying the same answers to the same questions.

Working at Disneyland certainly helped with this mindset. I remember standing out front of the Indiana Jones Adventure and answering the same question literally 100 times in one hour. "The bathroom is right around the corner to your right." And you know what--I HONESTLY never got sick of answering the question. How does this nice lady know that I've been asked the same question 100 times already, and why should she care? My being sick of saying the same answer over and over does not help her find the bathroom. My job isn't to get tired of helping people, it's to help EVERY single person equally. The same applies here. How does this nice Korean girl know that I've been asked my name 100 other times in the last 5 minutes--and why should that matter? It's my job to be responsible in my interactions--each time, every time.

Why is this so hard for people??

So anyway, I arrived here a week ago, today. I've been here a week. Just like camp, it feels like I've been here for a year. It's amazing that way.

What follows will recount one of the most hilarious evenings I have ever enjoyed as long as I've lived. Last night, there was an informal welcome dinner for me. Most all of the other edutainers and I walked to a place called "Zen", a restaurant within walking distance of the Village.

I wasn't sure what was going to happen, nor was I prepared for it...though looking back, no amount of preparation would have adequately equipped me to understand what was about to happen.

Though I had never done this before, I took off my shoes with everyone else before we entered our dining area. There were 17 of us, so we took up some room. I'd seen this in the movies, but never experienced it for myself. The tables were literally 1 foot off the ground...so I grabbed two pillows and sat down. And THE FLOOR WAS HEATED. Underneath the fake hardwood floor, there was some sort of heating system that kept the floor warm as we sat. So bizarre.

After fully detailing my dietary needs and desires, along with my strict concerns about what was about to occur, I allowed other people to order for me.

Here's a sample of what was ordered: soju (an alcoholic drink similar to Vodka), something something dip sum (pork), and shabu shabu (beef). Perhaps this is all second nature to you--but this was ALL NEW to me.

Before the main course was brought out, they brought us trays of "appetizers". I cannot describe to you what I saw--to do so would cause me to dry heave right here at my computer. I had never seen anything like it.

On this plate were tiny bowls with various items. One, I was informed, was seaweed. I couldn't have said it better myself. It was very green...and very seaweed looking. Another item was pickled garlic. There was another item NO ONE could identify...but they ate it anyway?!? Also on the plate were 2 mysterious looking sauces (both beige), which I later learned were dipping sauces, one for meat, and one for vegetables. And last but not least, the infamous kimchi. I mentioned kimchi to you before, in an earlier blog, but I'd yet to see it...or taste it. My anticipation certainly hadn't grown...but my time had come.

I was given a spoon (I never figured out what I would use it with) and 2 wooden chopsticks with etches on the ends, to make grabbing items easier. How convenient. Someone tell me, please, what is the point of making chopsticks easier to use? Just as a joke?? Honestly, if they were trying to make grabbing things easier--they wouldn't give me chopsticks--they'd give me a fork! But I honestly wasn't complaining, I found the whole thing hilarious.

The first thing I tried was the kimchi. It looked absolutely terrible. Just awful. I mean, if I was stranded somewhere, and the 2 choices for dinner were my own feet or kimchi...my feet would be gone in a second. Hands down. Knowing that kimchi was pickled cabbage, I had a vision in my mind that it would be green. Well, I suppose it can be...they say there are over 100 kinds of kimchi. Whatever, this kind was white with red chili paste stuff on it. Since I'd shared with everyone my concerns about spicy things, they told me to scrape the red stuff off, which I promptly did. After 3 or so minutes had elapsed, I was finally able to muster the amount of courage needed to put the thing in my mouth. At least 1 of those minutes was spent simply trying to grab the stupid thing with my chopsticks. Not everyone was looking at me during this trying time, but I made sure to point out to everyone, as the kimchi rested between my chopsticks, that I was about to embark on a journey that I never thought I'd take. A journey I didn't know the outcome of, and a journey I wish I could have had my mommy along with me for.

I bit into the kimchi.

The first sensation was on my tongue. It was a little spicy, not too bad, but I could definitely feel a tingle. Kimchi, being cabbage, has a certain celery-like quality to it. You know how celery has those weird strands or hair-like things that are tough to bite through...well, kimchi has that as well. So as it's between my teeth, I find that I am unable to break off the piece I have. Like a dog with no opposable thumbs, I have no grip on the kimchi, and nothing to use as a fulcrum to tear it in half. So I use my fingers to rip it in two, allowing the part already in my mouth to continue its adventure through the chain. It wasn't awful. It wasn't good--but it wasn't awful. It was a tad spicy, but other than that, I didn't die. I didn't even gag, and that's a big step. Ask my parents, they'll tell you that getting me to simply swallow cough syrup without gagging required a declared state of emergency from the Governor of Louisiana and the presence of the National Guard. Entire countries have been founded and conquered in less time than it took for me to take cough syrup.

So, after trying kimchi--what could prevent me from trying anything else? So, I tried the seaweed, and at first it was quite pleasant, but as I continued chewing, it became an oral disaster. To use an American word, it was gross.

I also bit into one of the things of garlic. I say bit into, because it didn't make the cut to the chewing phase. No good. I don't regularly eat garlic, and I shouldn't have pushed my luck.

Then, finally, the main course came. I thought I'd enjoy this. I was told that they bring you the meat raw, and you cook it in a little pot. The nice waiter man (he was an older gentlemen with a long gray ponytail and a camoflauge hat) set out some hot plates and set the pots on them. He brought platters with the raw meat on it--the pork sliced like normal, and the beef sliced very, very thin. Shabu shabu (the thinly sliced beef) is cooked in the pot, and the {unintelligible} dip sum (the pork) is cooked on some sort of grill thing.

After the meat platter came the vegetable platter. On it were all kinds of things I'd never seen. There were some normal looking mushrooms along with some very bizarre looking ones. They looked like alien tentacles or some sort of sea anemone. There were slices of turnip, cabbage, and other weird greens. These are supposed to go into the pot and cook. They you grab a piece of the beef with your chopsticks (which I found impossible) and you just swirl it around in the boiling pot containing the mushrooms and such. Though the meat is raw, it is so thinly sliced, it takes literally seconds to cook. Then you take it out of the pot and eat it. That simple.

Well, I was only slightly frightened (you must realize, fear takes on a new meaning when you stare kimchi down) of the meat. I made sure it was fully cooked, then I ate it. It wasn't bad at all. It wasn't really good though, either. It didn't have much of a taste. It was just thinly sliced beef, almost like roast beef...just without the roasted taste (Steve--"it is beef--that is roasted!"). I dipped it in the aforementioned sauce (the one for the meat), and ate some more. The sauce wasn't good at all. I didn't dare ask what was in it. I even tried the sauce for vegetables, which I liked more, but still found it unimpressive. I wanted salt or pepper to give the meat more taste, but there was none to be found.

Towards the end of the meal, the nice waiter man brought out some uncooked noodles. I forgot to ask, but I'd guess they're rice noodles and not pasta noodles, but I don't know. Anyway, this is basically your dessert. You are supposed to pour the uncooked noodles into the pot with the mushrooms and what not and let them cook in there, then you eat what's left in the pot as a sort-of soup. Hmm.

Well, after the noodles had cooked, I picked some out (with my chopsticks!) and tried those. I really liked that. Obviously, I didn't include any mushrooms or turnips or cabbage in my trial, but I did what I thought would be best for me in the current circumstance. As my luck would have it, the nice waiter man brought out salt and pepper for the noodles. "I could have really used those about 20 minutes ago..." I thought to myself. Anyway, I sprinkled some salt and pepper on my noodles, and I enjoyed myself. I had several helpings of the noodles.

Oh, and they had Coke in bottles (Patrice--regular size big ones, not like the ones in Vegas), and I had one. It's got English on one side of the label, and Korean on the other. I'll send the bottle to my Grandpa, he'll love it. It's the only thing he asked for. =)

Anyway, if you thought that exchange was humorous, wait until you hear about this. After dinner, we decided to go to Norabong, which is Korea's word for karaoke. Except, unlike in America, in Korea, you do not sing in a large bar-type setting with lots of strangers, you basically rent your own room and sing with your friends. So there were about 15 of us that decided to do this. I was definitely excited about the idea.

Well, we get into the room, and it's pretty neat. There are several flat screen TV's, and there's a giant remote that you use to program the songs you want to sing, as well as several cool disco light things.

I program in Cher's "Believe", because I think it's a wonderful song to break the ice of this Norabong time. Plus, most of these nice folks haven't heard me sing yet. I might as well start off with something so ridiculous they will immediately hate me, thereby saving them the trouble later.

See what having an open mind can do to you? You can end up in South Korea eating food you can't pronounce and singing Cher songs in a private room with people who could quite possibly soon begin to hate you.