I was idling away the afternoon in a park, napping and doing a little studying. This old Korean guy came walking by, and said “Hello, how are you” — nothing unusual, cause a Westerner is still so often treated like someone famous in Korea. Well, I ended up talking to this guy, and it really made my afternoon. I can’t quite express it, but it was beautiful. Love flowed from this guy. Just prior to him coming, I was questioning why I was even bothering to study Korean. But it’s for times like this — we had this amazing conversation switching between broken English and broken Korean. We talked about a bunch of books. He asked me if I’d read Herman Hesse, and actually I’d just read Siddartha. This guy was just so full of energy and life. He showed me these Taekwondo moves, and got himself into yoga positions. He’d been studying English for 2 years, whenever he could. And the reason is that he wants to travel to India, Vietnam, and Thailand. That’s the strangeness of the world, that Koreans study English to go to Vietnam. But this guy’s obviously not got a lot of money. He looked pretty scruffy, like someone who hangs around parks often does. The mobility, the freedom, the options of an English teacher are overwhelming. How different my life must be from this guy’s. I hope he gets to India.

While swimming laps in the Olympic swimming pool, I surfaced to find a fellow foreigner. A man who turned out to be Russian, involved in some exporting. I think he worked for a government office. Russians have quite a reputation in Korea. Apparently, even here, there’s a Russian mafia, and a huge population of Russian women brought in to work in night clubs. But I’m sorry I have to bring all this stuff up, just cause I met a nice Russian in a swimming pool. For some reason, I felt compelled to list the many Russian books I’d read in my life, and compliment him on Russian literature as if he wrote the books himself. And then I continued swimming.

On a recent Sunday morning, I was recruited to hand out pamphlets for an English camp in the annex building of a central Seoul church. There was this huge parkade and all the cars were double and triple parked — everywhere. I’d hate to be a kid forced to church in Korea. Sitting through the service, and then having to wait for the entire afternoon for the parking lot to clear. Wasn’t Sunday supposed to be a day for rest?

I get asked so many times if I’m Christian in Korea. It’s overwhelming. I know there’s persecuted Christians all over the world. But in Korea it’s far braver to admit to not being Christian.

I met a man last week who wrote a very large tome on American history. The man’s never been to America, and doesn’t even speak English. Since the book’s in Korean, I can’t imagine what it says, but it does strike me as very funny. The things that people write about. I wonder how many people all over the world are enrolled in American studies programs.

In the Korean apartments I’ve visited, the males all wear something like a Lacoste or Arnold Palmer golf shirts. And I’ve seen so many indoor putting mats in the various places.

In Korea, you can go to a photocopy place, and get a whole book photocopied and bound. I noticed this when I was teaching a student the other day — she had two copies of John Gray’s Men Are From Mars and Women Are From Venus. The books looked like publisher’s promo copies. Apparently, she’d had 4 photocopies made.

Apparently, despite the number of practicing Christians in Korea, intellectual property laws hold no sway.

Recently, I’ve accepted an offer for a job in Japan that begins in September. I think there’s little possibility for an active double life in Korea. The biggest difference between Korea and Japan I can locate lies in personal space. In Japan, so much is open-ended and vague, and nothing requires explanation. If you’ve got something to mask, then Japan is definitely the place to do it.

And I think back to Siddartha. This spiritual life, the double life. Could I live like that?

For better or worse, I’ve begun to imagine myself as something like a Somerset Maugham, or at least the writer character of Razor’s Edge, the link between the misanthropes and the society people, the one who can’t belong to either group, but the one that is the only link between these groups that don’t associate with each other.

The beauty of Korean English. I bought a can of Ceylon ice tea — “The Dream of Tea” is the logo. The caption on the can reads:

“Ceylon tea. Now dream of Tea is distilled each pure water drop a tear of joy. A vision of paradise for men lost in their dreams. Sailing the Indian Ocean towards new horizons. Ceylon tea.”

As far as I know, the Indian Ocean doesn’t even exist. It’s just a joke played by the globe. A misprint.

I discovered something today about Seoul Tower. As I’ve already told you, Seoul is a huge city broken up by mountains, so you sometimes lost sight of the size. Every city has its tower, and I’d always seen Seoul Tower on the other side of a mountain. From whereever I am in the city, I can see Seoul Tower just popping its head over the other side of the mountain. A trick of perspective I’ve discovered. The tower is actually not more than 30 or 40 metres high. It’s actually built on top of the mountain, which is why I never saw the base of it until today, when I took a creative jogging route that led me to the top.

From the top of the mountain, Seoul looked indescribably brilliant. Constellations of apartment buildings as indistinguishable as stars in the sky. Housing blocks with multi-colored roofs that seemed like tile floors. The outer edges of the city dissipating into invisibility caused by smog.

I located the Seoul division of the Fight Club along this jogging route. Somewhere along the mountainous paths, there’s this brilliant little park with chin-up bars, abdominal equipment, and a bench press set-up. I’m training now, cause I know if I don’t get in shape now, then I’ll never get in shape. Since I’m not Korean, I’m not required to spend the two years in the army — however, that doesn’t mean I don’t intend to meet the same physical requirements that is expected of a Korean soldier. I don’t expect special treatment simply because I’m not Korean.

Eyes drink, cause they’re moist.

I watched a drunk guy stumbling in the streets, and it was funny because he was clutching to a book. It’s funny when you’re so drunk you can’t even distinguish the type. I’ve enjoyed so many classics under these conditions.

On the subject of Christians in Korea — are you aware of the strange phenomenon that 25% of Koreans go to church? The Seoul skyline is littered with replicated apartment buildings with huge numbers on the side, and in between huge neon crosses rise up from every available pocket. But instead of sweeping it away, Christianity builds itself on top of Confucianism — so, you couldn’t imagine a more binding culture. Japanese sometimes asked me if I was Christian out of curiousity — in Korea, I get asked so often, but it seems to be a test. I think, in Korea, the social pressures of Confucianism force people into Christianity. Someone told me that Japan was like America in the 1950s — I couldn’t see their point, but I would say this is true for Korea. A place which is definitely still pre-post-modernity. The belief in the American dream is strong — the Protestant work ethic competes with the fast dollar in an economy where all that is solid melts into air.

I read this hilarious thing in a Seoul tourist magazine — about how the local people enjoy walking along the beautiful banks of the Han River, enjoy the architecture, and drink directly from the river. If you could actually see that the river banks are a wasteland of dirt and construction, and that the river is spanned by huge, rusty bridges.

Eyes get especially moist, when dirt gets caught.