Year of the Rat!!!!

Where to begin. I am truly a stranger in a strange land. Korea is an interesting place to live for someone like me. Every time I go out and explore I am educated about some tradition or cultural aspect of the people. During the Chinese New Year Danielle and I headed south on the bullet train to Busan. We had visited Busan once before over the Christmas Holiday. We went to a fish market and it was beautiful and disturbing at the same time. I've never really felt sorry for fish until this moment. I would probably feel sorry for all the living animals I eat and enjoy eating if I was forced to watch how some of these animals are prepared. It's got me seriously thinking about going vegetarian. I'm not all the way there yet but I'm really thinking about it. I just saw some disturbing shit man. The fish market consisted of vendor after vendor hocking the days fresh selection of fish, both known and unknown to me, and all variety of shellfish. The vendors were mostly elderly women whose husbands I can only assume were fishing and bringing in the merchandise to them. These women were slicing the skin off of live eels and then tossing them in this plastic tub so people could watch or buy some if they wanted to. I can not get this image out of mind though. These bleeding skinless things squirming around and slowly dying. I don't know how much fish feel pain but it was obvious these eels had seen better days.

I can only imagine how other foods are prepared both here and back in the states. I think hunters have it right man. Those hunters that eat what it is they kill. There was just something really disrespectful about watching those damn skinless eels squirming around in those tubs like that. I just kept thinking about all the tasty living creatures I have consumed in my life time and how they ended their lives so I could enjoy their flesh. Maybe I don't want to be a veggie, maybe I just want to make sure that what I'm eating ending it life cycle quickly and in a somewhat respectful manner. I used to go fishing with my dad all the time when I was younger and I loved every minute of it. When we caught fish that were be enough to keep we always killed them quickly and ate whatever we kept. I don't have a problem with that but how can I be sure that chicken I eat came to a "good death" or that cow that I do enjoy so much. I think if and when I go back to Portland I'm going to get to know my local providers more and pay that extra cash to be able to trace what I put in my belly. It sounds kind of wishy washy but I think it can be done...scratch that, I know it can be done. And don't think for one minute that it's lost on me that only people (in the U.S. anyways) with enough money can afford the luxury of thinking like this and acting like this. There are lots of people who just can't afford to buy food in this way and I respect that, but the fact of the matter is that I can afford to put a little more thought into the food that passes over my lips.

While Danielle and I were walking through this market an old Korean man came up to me and gave me a high five and then shook my hand with vigor. In Korean, he asked me if I was American. I didn't understand what he was saying until Danielle informed me. Between the two of us I think we can put two sentences together in Korean. When I told him I was Korean he became very excited and walked a little bit with us. He shook Danielle's hand after a while and sniffed it slightly. I'm not sure she caught this, but I sure did. It wasn't like a dirty old man sniff, it was like he was sniffing what it was like to be young and beautiful and he took it all in. I'm pretty sure he commented on how soft her hands felt to him and then he stopped by this huge wooden barrel full of raw peanuts. He dipped hi hand into the barrel and pulled out a handful. He gave me some and then gave Danielle the rest. He clamped my hand over the nuts and then did the same to Danielle. He seemed to enjoy this very much because he smiled wide and then said goodbye in English. Just like that, he turned the corner and left the two of us holding a handful of peanuts wondering what just happened. It was one of the moments that made you wish you could follow a stranger for a day and just see what their life was like.

In Korea, there is so much stuff to eat and buy. You can not go any where without food being shoved in your face and items priced to go. At these markets and sometimes on the subway I have started to notice older men who have no legs at all or whose legs lay lifeless as hey drag themselves along the floor. They usually have some kind of radio or tape player with them that puts out soft music with no words. I don't really know whose these people are but I think they are reminders of the war which took place in this country. Every time I pass these men I feel ashamed for some reason. I don't feel ashamed every time I walk pass a homeless person (maybe I should though) or some one who is missing a part of their body but with these men I feel this sense of shame and I can't really pinpoint why that is. Maybe because they don't really beg you for money. They just float by you like icebergs in the ocean. You can feel the chill from their presence and in all honesty I feel relieved when they have passed. But maybe that's the problem with me. I don't engage them. Granted I don't speak Korean but giving someone 1,000 won ($1.00) is not going to break me. I guess I've become way to accustomed to passing people who need help without a moment's thought.

In Portland the homeless population was thick. I found myself getting annoyed with people approaching me and asking for money. Perhaps this feeling of annoyance is my brains way of protecting itself against the shame of passing another human being who is in need. Perhaps just the act of acknowledging that you see someone is enough of a kindness in that situation. I can't tell you how many times I hear that voice in my head that says "just don't make eye contact", "walk faster", "cross the street". There was this twilight zone episode where instead of putting people in jail they got this mark put on their forehead and that meant that the rest of the world was to shun them for however long they had this mark. I remember this guy would try to talk to people he knew and people he didn't know and no one would talk to him. He ended up getting hurt and still nobody would help him and he went a little off. After a year or so he got the mark taken off of his head and he passed a women who had ignored him when he had the mark on his head. She now had the mark on her head for breaking the law and she was beginning him to acknowledge that she was there. At first he walked by her but then he stopped and couldn't bring himself to continue walking away from this woman because he knew what that felt like. It was worse then any prison I guess. I'm not really sure what that story has to do with anything but it just popped inside of my head. I don't here many politicians talking about poverty on the campaign trail these days...especially now that Edwards is out of the picture.

Let me leave you with this last story of my Chinese New Year in Korea. Today Danielle and I took the train back to Seoul Station and she headed south to Bundang and I headed North to Paju. The train back to Paju was packed tight but I managed to get a seat. These two young girls got on the train at one of the stops and were eating french fries from a fast food place. Now I don't know if you know this but many Koreans do not cover their mouths when they cough. They just cough right out there and if you happen to be right out there you will have your ass coughed on. They also burp loudly and without hesitation. These burps come from the gut too man, I mean it's nasty. So I'm sitting down listening to my ipod and these girls are talking to each other when suddenly this girl starts coughing and chunks of half digested fries go over my brand new backpack which I bought at a market in Busan. Got a wonderful deal for it and YES I'm very proud of this because I am the world's worst haggler. Anyways, back to the fries. She coughs up these fries and they land on my bag because she didn't put her freaking hands in front of her mouth. Now here's the messed up part, she looks at this nasty chunk of potato and doesn't do a damn thing. She just goes back to talking to her friend. Now, I know that she saw this piece of food on my bag. I also know that she knows it came from her freaking mouth....AND I also know that she knows I know it came from her so the fact that she did not even attempt to remove said fries from said bag boiled my blood. It was like one of those movies where the scene stops and the actor breaks character and starts talking to the audience. I went deep inside my head and starting asking myself what I should do. Was this some odd Korean cultural thing where you spit on a foreign person and don't acknowledge it. Was this some age thing where a young person just doesn't give a fuck what they do. I don't know but I had made up my mind to tap this young girl on the shoulder and point to the glop of potato glistening on my brand new bag. I felt like I was about to create an international incident when fate stepped in. This old woman had been watching the whole thing and in the moment my muscles started firing to reach up and tap the girl this women started to say something in Korean loudly (which is not hard to do since most Koreans are very quite on public transportation...they just don't talk loud on the subway the bus or the train) and this girl bowed her head to the women and then wiped away the potato and with it wiped away all possible chance of an incident on a global scale. I can see the headlines now. Large African-American (I prefer Black...or Chris if you really want to be down) taps tiny Korean girl on the shoulder....demands removal of potato spittle! Thank the Gods for old Korean women who demand that people listen to and respect them.