I saw this insightful chart this morning on The Economist's website:
Unemployment during the downturn: Underworked | The Economist
According to national reports in each country, the U.S. has a 9.4% unemployment rate today, while South Korea has 3.9% unemployment. The U.S. unemployment rate has gained nearly 4 percentage points in the last year, while Korea has gained less than 1 point.
Having lived here nearly 3 weeks now, we have seen evidence of this difference everywhere. There is a gluttony of English-teaching jobs for those who want them. And -- imagine this -- media outlets are actually hiring positions here, instead of cutting!
Who'd have thought our youthful adventure makes so much economic sense!
Addendum: More good news: The World Bank says that South Korea will make the quickest recovery among major economies.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Back to School
I took my Korean language placement exam at Yonsei University yesterday. Funnily enough, when I showed up at the building there was a team of lab coated men and women wearing face masks and taking the temperature of all the new students before letting them in. Swine flu, foreigners -- you know. After clearing security, I headed down toward the auditorium. About 300 people, mostly college age, were lined up and down the basement hallway waiting for the doors to be opened. It was the first "first day of school" feeling I'd had in a long while. I was eager to strike up a conversation with someone but slowly realized my classmates were from all over the world -- and the chances we spoke the same language might be slim.
I can't help talking to white people when I run into them here. It's just such a fail-safe way to know you can expect a conversation to take place in English. I was sitting next to a guy at the bank the other day while waiting for a teller, and before introducing myself, I sat there for a good minute, realizing I looked like most everyone else in the room, and thinking, "This guy has no idea I'm American." It feels like having a secret power sometimes. I hate to pick someone out for conversation based solely on their appearance but I don't have much choice these days. Anyway, it turns out the guy was a professor who'd been living and working here for seven years and probably knew more about this country than me. So much for my secret power.
When we got into the auditorium, the head of the language school spoke to us in Korean for about ten minutes. Basically, what she said was, "If you can understand me, you'll be taking a different test than everyone else." Which made me wonder what kind of Korean aptitude test you could take if you couldn't understand this woman. About half the room stood up to leave for the testing rooms and take the separate written and oral exams. A few minutes later, I found myself sitting quietly in a school desk four floors up. A white guy, who looked roughly like Jim from The Office, sat down next to me. My secret powers waited patiently for the right moment... until he busted out some Korean on me. It was something along the lines of, "Where are you from?" but all I could blurt out was, "Sorry?" Again, so much for my secret power.
The test was supposed to take two hours. I was done with both the written and oral portions in about 30 minutes. I think it's pretty sad my knowledge of Korean can be summed up in about half an hour. Jim was still scribbling in Hangul when I left.
I can't help talking to white people when I run into them here. It's just such a fail-safe way to know you can expect a conversation to take place in English. I was sitting next to a guy at the bank the other day while waiting for a teller, and before introducing myself, I sat there for a good minute, realizing I looked like most everyone else in the room, and thinking, "This guy has no idea I'm American." It feels like having a secret power sometimes. I hate to pick someone out for conversation based solely on their appearance but I don't have much choice these days. Anyway, it turns out the guy was a professor who'd been living and working here for seven years and probably knew more about this country than me. So much for my secret power.
When we got into the auditorium, the head of the language school spoke to us in Korean for about ten minutes. Basically, what she said was, "If you can understand me, you'll be taking a different test than everyone else." Which made me wonder what kind of Korean aptitude test you could take if you couldn't understand this woman. About half the room stood up to leave for the testing rooms and take the separate written and oral exams. A few minutes later, I found myself sitting quietly in a school desk four floors up. A white guy, who looked roughly like Jim from The Office, sat down next to me. My secret powers waited patiently for the right moment... until he busted out some Korean on me. It was something along the lines of, "Where are you from?" but all I could blurt out was, "Sorry?" Again, so much for my secret power.
The test was supposed to take two hours. I was done with both the written and oral portions in about 30 minutes. I think it's pretty sad my knowledge of Korean can be summed up in about half an hour. Jim was still scribbling in Hangul when I left.
Monday, June 22, 2009
The almighty won: Part II
Seoul's version of capitalism is complex. While some call it a merchant culture because of the thousands of independent store owners crowded in the subways and markets, a few gargantuan companies seem to dominate the scene. Unlike in the U.S. (think GE). these companies keep their brand names throughout their assets. Lotte (pronounced Low-tay) is one of the biggest. There's Lotte department stores; grocery and household stores; a fast-food burger chain; orange juice, cookie, soda and many other food brands; a baseball team; apartment complexes; and a large amusement park.
Lotte World is one of the largest amusement parks in the world. We haven't been there yet (it's on the southern edge of Seoul), but it looks to be a dead ringer for Disney World. Even the custodians of the park, Lotty and Lorry, dress like Mickey and Minnie Mouse. This is no coincidence. Disney and the Mouse family are extremely popular here. It's impossible to go a day in Seoul without seeing a woman in her 20s sporting a Mickey Mouse shirt.
The prices of items at places owned by Lotte are firm, just as in the U.S. But smaller stores are another story. One of the interesting things to watch here has been the degree of flexibility of prices at these mom and pop style stores.
Saturday we visited Techno Mart to buy a wireless router and an air cleaner. Techno Mart is an intimidating 8-floor mall with over 2,000 electronics shops. Instead of having separate rooms, these retailers mark out their territory with U-shaped shelves. It's not always clear where one shop starts and the other one ends. To me, it looked like Best Buy times 10. As in a lot of these malls where small retailers congregate, the salespeople were very aggressive. It was impossible to glance at anything without being leaped on.
The first merchant we met didn't have the air cleaner we wanted. But he had another which he said was just as good with the tag price of 350,000 won. It was too much for a filter we knew nothing about, and him enough.
"How about 270,000?" he says, dropping 20 percent from the original price.
We talked it over -- it did seem like a steal. Still, the one we saw online was just 220,000 won. So we decided to keep looking. As we walked away, he shouts "How about $250,000?" "We'll think about it," we shout back.
In the end we got a different air filter from a different retailer. He didn't give us much of a discount -- only 5,000 won -- but we felt this salesman was much more trustworthy than the first one. In fact, one of his customers told us as much while we were waiting for the air filter to be brought from the warehouse.
I think this is the lesson to be learned here. There are so many small merchants here that once you find a good one, you should stick to them. I found a housewares merchant a good 30-minute walk from our apartment that I'm planning on visiting again. He gave me a wok, cutting board, two mugs, fifteen plastic hangers, a medium-sized glass Tupperware container, three cleaning rags, a cooking spoon and spatula, and metal tea kettle all for 40,000 won ($32).
Our space-age air cleaner made in Japan.
Lotte World is one of the largest amusement parks in the world. We haven't been there yet (it's on the southern edge of Seoul), but it looks to be a dead ringer for Disney World. Even the custodians of the park, Lotty and Lorry, dress like Mickey and Minnie Mouse. This is no coincidence. Disney and the Mouse family are extremely popular here. It's impossible to go a day in Seoul without seeing a woman in her 20s sporting a Mickey Mouse shirt.
The prices of items at places owned by Lotte are firm, just as in the U.S. But smaller stores are another story. One of the interesting things to watch here has been the degree of flexibility of prices at these mom and pop style stores.
Saturday we visited Techno Mart to buy a wireless router and an air cleaner. Techno Mart is an intimidating 8-floor mall with over 2,000 electronics shops. Instead of having separate rooms, these retailers mark out their territory with U-shaped shelves. It's not always clear where one shop starts and the other one ends. To me, it looked like Best Buy times 10. As in a lot of these malls where small retailers congregate, the salespeople were very aggressive. It was impossible to glance at anything without being leaped on.
The first merchant we met didn't have the air cleaner we wanted. But he had another which he said was just as good with the tag price of 350,000 won. It was too much for a filter we knew nothing about, and him enough.
"How about 270,000?" he says, dropping 20 percent from the original price.
We talked it over -- it did seem like a steal. Still, the one we saw online was just 220,000 won. So we decided to keep looking. As we walked away, he shouts "How about $250,000?" "We'll think about it," we shout back.
In the end we got a different air filter from a different retailer. He didn't give us much of a discount -- only 5,000 won -- but we felt this salesman was much more trustworthy than the first one. In fact, one of his customers told us as much while we were waiting for the air filter to be brought from the warehouse.
I think this is the lesson to be learned here. There are so many small merchants here that once you find a good one, you should stick to them. I found a housewares merchant a good 30-minute walk from our apartment that I'm planning on visiting again. He gave me a wok, cutting board, two mugs, fifteen plastic hangers, a medium-sized glass Tupperware container, three cleaning rags, a cooking spoon and spatula, and metal tea kettle all for 40,000 won ($32).
Our space-age air cleaner made in Japan.Sunday, June 21, 2009
Things you won't miss in Korea #4
Pizza. Domino's to be exact. I was pretty proud of myself for being able to order this successfully over the phone last night after running into the delivery guy downstairs earlier and getting the number from him. The choices were medium and large. This is a medium (about half the size I was expecting). I'm still not used to the portion sizes yet. But it was still great, and it came with hot sauce, pickles, and a garlic mayo sauce. I love condiments.
There's actually tons of pizza places in Seoul. We tried one a few weeks ago called Mr. Pizza and it wasn't so great. Domino's, though -- their number's staying on my phone.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Cider vs. Saeeda
I came to Korea assuming a few things. I knew it would be hot and humid in the summer. I knew meat would be a little more expensive, thus I'd be eating less of it. And I also knew hundreds of English words had made their way into the Korean language over the last 50 years -- words like "Internet", "supermarket", and "pizza". I assumed this hybridization of English and Korean might make communication a little easier for us in the beginning, that because of the, shall I say, bastardization of the language, we'd have a sort of crutch to lean on for a little while. I assumed I'd be able to order a Coke, buy a Big Mac and ask directions to the nearest 7-11, no problem. That, unfortunately, was an entirely incorrect assumption.
The beautiful thing about Korea's written word, known as Hangul, is in its simplicity. 24 letters in all (14 consonants, 10 vowels), it elegantly maps out the sounds of speech in a carefully designed series of patterns. Each letter's design has a logic, and as you move through the Korean alphabet, a single stroke here and there alters a letter's sound, but also keeps it in relation to others. It's also phonetic. In other words, if you learn to read it, you can sound out nearly anything and hit fairly close to the mark on a word's true pronunciation.
But the Korean language has sounds we don't have in US, and vice versa. Take the English letters "L" and "R", for instance. There is no Korean equivalent to either of those. Rather, it's a sort of combination of both those sounds -- an "R" sound with a slight, single roll of the tongue -- that makes up the letter ㄹ (pronounced "lree-uhl"). I'm discovering the Hangul letter ㅅ (pronounced "shee-ote") has neither the hard "ss" sound of a word like "skate", nor the softer "sh" sound in something like "shoe". It's somewhere in between, and I still haven't really figured out how to pronounce it yet.
Since I know some Hangul, I've been able to read, albeit slowly, most of what I see out on the street. Problem is, 95% of the time I don't know what the heck it means. But often, a word will read out into something vaguely familiar to me. "Tu-ran-su-po-muh"... "Transfomers". "Gu-ran-duh"... "Grand". It feels like a flickering light bulb taking a second or two to snap into full brightness. But in a world where I can't understand much, those moments are sublime.
The difficulty, though, comes in saying some of these Koreanized English words back to Koreans. I tried to order a Sprite-like drink here called "Chilsung Cider" (which is written in English on the can) at a restaurant the other day and the conversation took about seven rounds before the kid behind the counter and I were in agreement. Nissa and I went to a coffee shop two nights ago where she was trying to order a peppermint tea... Ah yes, "pep-uh-meen-tuh" was the word we were looking for. The really shameful part of all this is that, in an attempt to fill in all the Korean I don't know, I've begun assuming certain English words have been Koreanized, when they really haven't. So the bank teller has no idea what I'm saying when I ask for a "tu-ran-su-puh" (transfer), my aunt is confused when I say our new apartment is by two "moo-bee" places (movie places), and I can't get my point across by saying this is my "poyn-tuh" (OK, that one's not real, but the possibility is there).
The beautiful thing about Korea's written word, known as Hangul, is in its simplicity. 24 letters in all (14 consonants, 10 vowels), it elegantly maps out the sounds of speech in a carefully designed series of patterns. Each letter's design has a logic, and as you move through the Korean alphabet, a single stroke here and there alters a letter's sound, but also keeps it in relation to others. It's also phonetic. In other words, if you learn to read it, you can sound out nearly anything and hit fairly close to the mark on a word's true pronunciation.
But the Korean language has sounds we don't have in US, and vice versa. Take the English letters "L" and "R", for instance. There is no Korean equivalent to either of those. Rather, it's a sort of combination of both those sounds -- an "R" sound with a slight, single roll of the tongue -- that makes up the letter ㄹ (pronounced "lree-uhl"). I'm discovering the Hangul letter ㅅ (pronounced "shee-ote") has neither the hard "ss" sound of a word like "skate", nor the softer "sh" sound in something like "shoe". It's somewhere in between, and I still haven't really figured out how to pronounce it yet.
Since I know some Hangul, I've been able to read, albeit slowly, most of what I see out on the street. Problem is, 95% of the time I don't know what the heck it means. But often, a word will read out into something vaguely familiar to me. "Tu-ran-su-po-muh"... "Transfomers". "Gu-ran-duh"... "Grand". It feels like a flickering light bulb taking a second or two to snap into full brightness. But in a world where I can't understand much, those moments are sublime.
The difficulty, though, comes in saying some of these Koreanized English words back to Koreans. I tried to order a Sprite-like drink here called "Chilsung Cider" (which is written in English on the can) at a restaurant the other day and the conversation took about seven rounds before the kid behind the counter and I were in agreement. Nissa and I went to a coffee shop two nights ago where she was trying to order a peppermint tea... Ah yes, "pep-uh-meen-tuh" was the word we were looking for. The really shameful part of all this is that, in an attempt to fill in all the Korean I don't know, I've begun assuming certain English words have been Koreanized, when they really haven't. So the bank teller has no idea what I'm saying when I ask for a "tu-ran-su-puh" (transfer), my aunt is confused when I say our new apartment is by two "moo-bee" places (movie places), and I can't get my point across by saying this is my "poyn-tuh" (OK, that one's not real, but the possibility is there).
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Two Week Update
So we've been in Korea for almost exactly two weeks now and if I had to assess, I'd say we're doing pretty well. We moved into our new apartment on Monday with most of our luggage (we left some at my uncle's - it wouldn't all fit in the cab) and have started making it a home. It's still pretty empty right now; we've been sitting on the floor much of the time and I've been watching Korean TV on my new cell phone. I've found that I don't get most of it, unless it's baseball. We bought a "yo", basically a floor mattress, to sleep on in our loft. It gets a little warm up there so I'm a little concerned about that, being that we're barely into summer here. I'm definitely getting us a fan soon -- and will probably leave it on while we're asleep. Gasp!
We live in an area called Sinchon in Seoul. It's near two large universities so there's a lot of people and a lot of blinking lights. The shops down our street tend to be of certain categories: pets, plants, wigs and appliances. And I swear if I'm not careful I'm going to buy one of those puppies in the window. I've already stopped a few times to watch them play with each other. The Korean language school we've enrolled in is just north of us, though I haven't figured out exactly how to get there yet. We'll probably take a test walk over there before school starts next week. And there are two big movie theaters, each within a block of us, though we haven't taken advantage of them yet. What I love about the theaters here, like in England, is the choice of sweet, salty or a-mix-of-the-two popcorn. I had the mix at a Korean movie we watched with Haekgyung a couple weeks ago. It was called "마더", or "Mother", and it was amazing. I really hope it finds its way to the States; it deserves to be seen.
While it's been an exciting two weeks, I'm also feeling more unsettled than I have in years. I have to admit I kind of miss the comfort and stability of a steady job and paycheck, not to mention our old place (and o, that couch!). But I guess that's part of the reason why I wanted to come here, to shake things up a little. Back home, it was hard not to worry about getting stuck where we were, both personally and professionally. Now I feel like we're in a sink or swim situation where all that philosophical stuff seems like such a luxury. It's really forced me to think about my values, both in life and work. One thing I have discovered (or, I should say, Nissa has noticed) is that I have a marked affinity for couches. I've been obsessively searching on Craigslist Seoul. And I hope to get one as soon as possible.
We live in an area called Sinchon in Seoul. It's near two large universities so there's a lot of people and a lot of blinking lights. The shops down our street tend to be of certain categories: pets, plants, wigs and appliances. And I swear if I'm not careful I'm going to buy one of those puppies in the window. I've already stopped a few times to watch them play with each other. The Korean language school we've enrolled in is just north of us, though I haven't figured out exactly how to get there yet. We'll probably take a test walk over there before school starts next week. And there are two big movie theaters, each within a block of us, though we haven't taken advantage of them yet. What I love about the theaters here, like in England, is the choice of sweet, salty or a-mix-of-the-two popcorn. I had the mix at a Korean movie we watched with Haekgyung a couple weeks ago. It was called "마더", or "Mother", and it was amazing. I really hope it finds its way to the States; it deserves to be seen.
While it's been an exciting two weeks, I'm also feeling more unsettled than I have in years. I have to admit I kind of miss the comfort and stability of a steady job and paycheck, not to mention our old place (and o, that couch!). But I guess that's part of the reason why I wanted to come here, to shake things up a little. Back home, it was hard not to worry about getting stuck where we were, both personally and professionally. Now I feel like we're in a sink or swim situation where all that philosophical stuff seems like such a luxury. It's really forced me to think about my values, both in life and work. One thing I have discovered (or, I should say, Nissa has noticed) is that I have a marked affinity for couches. I've been obsessively searching on Craigslist Seoul. And I hope to get one as soon as possible.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Family Ties
We've been living with my cousins Haekgyung and Hyunjun for the last week and a half or so. Most of the time it's just us four -- my aunt and uncle live and work a few hours from here and aren't home much. Most mornings, Haekgyung's out the door by 7:30, which leaves the house to Nissa, Hyunjun and me for a few hours. Usually Nissa and I get up around 9, cereal and OJ close at hand, and go online to check e-mails, look for jobs and see what happened on the other side of the world while we were asleep. Hyunjun gets up anywhere from that same time to a couple hours later, depending on when his classes start that day at Hongik University. When he's got some time to kill he slays orcs and demons in World of Warcraft.
When Nissa and I finally get out of the house, it always seems to be for something different. One day it was going out to get my alien identification card. Another day we went book hunting and walked around Gyeongbukgung Palace. We've taken a couple strolls alongside the Chungyechung, a beautifully designed stream that cuts through central Seoul. I've had a couple job interviews. Last night, we went looking for a bindaeduk (seafood/meat cakes) place we found in a Lonely Planet guide -- the restaurant was packed and the food turned out to be great. And at the end of every night, we've come back to this house and usually gotten to spend some time with Haekgyung and Hyunjun, either watching some TV together, teaching each other some English/Korean, or cleaning up a horrific bug infestation in the kitchen. It's been a pretty fun time. That's why I think I'll be a little sad to move out on Monday.
Hyunjun helped Nissa and me find an apartment today near the Korean language school we'll be attending in a couple weeks. It also happens to be right down the street from a job I got writing an English textbook for a business language school. The apartment is fantastic -- not very large but large by Seoul standards, it has a living room and a loft, kitchen with a bar and chairs, and a great view of the city. The signing of the lease was a little harrowing, though. Or, I should say, Hyunjun's signing of the lease was. We decided it would be safer for him to sign it because he's a Korean citizen, and the 10 million won ($8,000) deposit would have a better chance of being returned to him in full at the end of the lease. Still, we couldn't have done any of it without him. He talked to the agent and the building manager through the whole deal, translated for us, and ultimately signed the papers for the apartment in his name. It was his first time signing a Korean lease. I told him we owed him a nice, big meal somewhere. But we were all so hungry after the experience, we just got lunch at a McDonald's nearby. I think I still owe him that meal.
When Nissa and I finally get out of the house, it always seems to be for something different. One day it was going out to get my alien identification card. Another day we went book hunting and walked around Gyeongbukgung Palace. We've taken a couple strolls alongside the Chungyechung, a beautifully designed stream that cuts through central Seoul. I've had a couple job interviews. Last night, we went looking for a bindaeduk (seafood/meat cakes) place we found in a Lonely Planet guide -- the restaurant was packed and the food turned out to be great. And at the end of every night, we've come back to this house and usually gotten to spend some time with Haekgyung and Hyunjun, either watching some TV together, teaching each other some English/Korean, or cleaning up a horrific bug infestation in the kitchen. It's been a pretty fun time. That's why I think I'll be a little sad to move out on Monday.
Hyunjun helped Nissa and me find an apartment today near the Korean language school we'll be attending in a couple weeks. It also happens to be right down the street from a job I got writing an English textbook for a business language school. The apartment is fantastic -- not very large but large by Seoul standards, it has a living room and a loft, kitchen with a bar and chairs, and a great view of the city. The signing of the lease was a little harrowing, though. Or, I should say, Hyunjun's signing of the lease was. We decided it would be safer for him to sign it because he's a Korean citizen, and the 10 million won ($8,000) deposit would have a better chance of being returned to him in full at the end of the lease. Still, we couldn't have done any of it without him. He talked to the agent and the building manager through the whole deal, translated for us, and ultimately signed the papers for the apartment in his name. It was his first time signing a Korean lease. I told him we owed him a nice, big meal somewhere. But we were all so hungry after the experience, we just got lunch at a McDonald's nearby. I think I still owe him that meal.
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