A Fish This Big

Early one Saturday morning several weeks ago, I managed to drag myself out of bed like a corpse from the grave following a rather over-enthusiastic Friday night of celebrating the work-week's end. Early, when taken in the context of my Saturday mornings, is 10:30, but it may as well have been the crack of dawn; I awoke squinting at the world in an early morning misery I very rarely subjected myself to on my precious days off. This morning, though, there were plans: another festival, of course, this one for yellowtail fish. After arriving on the tail-end of several festivals in a row, me and my friend Gabe decided that we needed to get a headstart on the day and make it out to the events earlier to see anything worth seeing at all. Thus it was, with no small amount of effort, that I pried myself out and got dressed, fighting off the advance waves of nausea heralding a full-blown hangover, and crept down to the car waiting to take me to the far side of the island.

The Yellowtail (or Bango) Festival is one of the more popular festivals on Jeju Island, and after last year's it is perhaps the most infamous. Last year, the weather was much worse this time of year, but those in charge of the festival did not think that a little choppy water should stop the festivities from taking place; they loaded (or rather, dreadfully overloaded) a fishing boat with a number of festival-goers and dignitaries, only to have it sink in the rough seas, killing around eight people, including the mayor of Seogwipo City. This would be the first occurance of the Bango Fest since that time, surely relaunched with new safety measures.

We were hoping that no such disasters would disrupt our morning as we arrived at the outskirts of the seemingly-enormous tent grounds, packed with shops selling everything from medicinal herbs to knock-off North Face jackets to back-flipping robot dogs. On the way in, we passed by a what was possibly the least safe carnival ride I have ever seen, which I gave wide berth to even in taking a photo of it, lest the ride come undone and fly off, crushing me. As if trying to top the shock of the truck-back disaster-waiting-to-happen we had just witnessed, a food vendor perched right outside the entrance to the actual festival grounds had a steaming bowl on his cart, right beside the rather common snails, of what appeared to be roaches. It was days later that I found out that these were actually silk worm pupa shells, which I suppose is better than steamed roaches, but I imagine if I had known, it would have still been disgusting to watch the lines of smiling kids shoveling these crunchy brown insects into their mouths.

As we arrived, we saw a crowd gathering at the foot of a group of what looked like raised platforms in the center of the docks where the festival was being held. Men in green neoprene waders were marching to a shallow pool constructed within steel barriers which were full of yellowtail, and being steadily stocked by fisherman carrying net-fulls of the fish from nearby fishing boats. After an endlessly long introduction (though I suppose every speech I have to listen to here seems to take ages, since I cannot understand a word of it), the large group of men plunged into the pool of fish, and began a race to see who could catch the most fish by hand. It was clearly a skill which must be acquired, as the younger men and sole child who participated ended up missing far more than they caught, the child falling face-first into the water as he was bested by one particular quarry. The fish, now caught for a second time since they had been snatched from the ocean, were taken over to long white tables, where burly fishmongers filleted them, and I, who was forunate enough to have obliviously wandered over to exactly the right spot before this occurred, was first in line for what I had been praying for since arrival- free fresh fish. It was a matter of minutes between the fish being knocked out and it being laid out on a plate, and as a result it was some of the tastiest raw fish I've ever had.

The fishermen's prey.


Moments after the scramble began.


A professional at work


Seaside sashimi


Not content, however, with the measly mouthfuls I was given for free at the chopping blocks, I traipsed (or I suppose that I traipsed; having perhaps never seen a clear example of traipsing, I cannot be sure that such an action occurred) over to the food tent, where I used the one useful Korean skill I have achieved, that is, reading hangul characters, to order a $20 platter of yellowtail for myself and my friend. I soon learned that he did not in fact enjoy eating raw fish, which raised the question in my mind as to why one would attend a festival celebrating one of sashimi's (using the term both loosely and transculturally) most celebrated fish breeds if not to consume said fish raw? I stuck to my order, however, and soon received a massive plate of sliced yellowtail, which I consumed in its entirety, all the while being covertly filmed by a cameraman for the local news station, whom I pretended not to notice. I suppose footage of foreigners doing Korean things, like eating a whole raw fish, for example, is a novelty; this was neither the first nor last time I have been filmed in Jeju doing something which undoubtedly, and perhaps unnecessarily, surprises the locals. I do not, in this instance, know if I made the cut and was featured on air.

Before (after having a few exploratory bites)


After (chopsticks added for size reference)


The day had only just begun, and soon got even better, as we, in our travels homeward, glimpsed a gaping dragon head emerging from a roadside building. We stopped to investigate, and learned that we had found the Crocodile Park. It was indeed a crocodile park, yet so much more... well worth the admission price. But that's a whole new entry.

Pepero Day

There is a certain marketing genius to be appreciated in convincing an entire nation of people that, for one day a year, they are only truly loved if they are given boxes of chocolate-dipped cookie sticks. And not just any sort of cookie sticks, no, only Pepero-brand confections will do. In what can only be compared to a brand-centric version of Valentine's Day, November 11 is known all over Korea as Pepero Day. It's namesake is a brand of snack cookie, owned by the mega-corporation Lotte, which is little more than my above description: pencil-thin shafts of rather disappointly bland cookie, dipped down to the hilt in milk chocolate. And Koreans buy boxes and boxes of the things every Pepero Day, including often-ridiculously elaborate premade Pepero baskets stacked outside of convenience stores. It's silly, cutesy things like this that it makes it apparent that the Koreans aren't really as different from the Japanese as they would like to think.

The 'legend' behind the holiday is that four schoolgirls, hoping to make their friendship last forever, pledged to send each other a box of Pepero's once every year to stay in touch. (Well, I suppose it's better than a magic pair of blue jeans.) Anyway, they laid out four skinny Peperos on a desk, an thus the date "11/11" was decided on. Somehow, Lotte's lies stuck in the public consciousness, enabling street vendors to sell baskets of cookies and stuffed bears at prices occasionally surpassing 500,000 won (or $500, but I though the won value sounded more impressive).

The least welcome aspect of Pepero Day, and one which I had no warning of, was the greed it seemed to engender in my students. Now, it would seem to go without saying that as I have more than 800 students (around 1400 if the students I teach only once a week are included), there is no way I could afford to give them all Peperos on this holiday. They were of a different mind, however, and when I told them I was in fact Peperoless they all, with very few exceptions, punched and slapped at me as if I had insulted them. They, for some reason I cannot understand, have always believed that I am a magic Westerner with pockets full of candy, and there is nothing I can do but disappoint them. The reaction on Pepero Day was much more extreme than ever before. How could I hold out on them on Pepero Day?! What kind of monster was I?! Maybe they will one day understand that I am not Willy Wonka, and give me a break.

Well, Pepero Day may be silly scheme by a cookie conglomerate... but in the end, though, I can't say that I was above it all.

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Happy Thanksgiving!!!
More later... busy week.

The Food Chain

I suppose that my blog entries have been getting progressively longer and longer, so to avoid becoming a JK Rowling, here's a short(er), but hopefully interesting, entry on a couple of Korean... um, experiences I have had in the last two weeks. In terms of trying diverse and exotic foods, I've been doing my best, trying a couple undeniably Korean foods. Here we go.

Up The Hill
On the Wednesday after I arrived back from Daegu, I was taken with the entirety of the school's teachers to climb an oreum, the parasitic volcanic hills that litter the island. According to my students, this particular oreum was a piece of cake, and I should have no trouble. It turns out that my students were a bit more generous in appraising my level of physical fitness than they should have been. After a short walk in the woods, the trail shot up at a dramatically steeper angle, and for the next 2 miles I found myself climbing up stone steps and rubber matting. None of this would have been much of a problem if 1.) I was in better shape, and 2.) my shoes didn't have a hard-plastic sheet in the middle of the sole, causing me to slip of the slick stone stairs and the folded rebar holding down the matting. This stumbling happened enough times for me to eventually sprain my kneee, an injury which didn't truly manifest itself until the next day. Making it to the top after around 45 minutes of climbing, I met up with the teachers who had beat me to the top (only about half made it, in the end), and saw that the view was wonderful, though the crown of the ill was exposed enough to force me back into the sweater I had removed during the climb.

Walking the crest of the hill. The entire island is covered in this eulalia grass.


The view from the top (yes, I know I need to pull up my pants, and get a haircut).


The descent was much easier, and it was after a seemingly short amount of time that we were hiking out of the forest that skirted the mountain. While crossing the plains back to the bus we ran into a band of horses blocking the roadway. My co-teacher was afraid of it, and warned me to be careful as I approached it to pet it's nose. These were the same short-legged Jeju horses I had seen at the racetrack weeks before, and looking into their sad eyes as they gazed at us while we passed, I almost got the impression that they knew what the teachers and I were doing next, where we were eating dinner.

The rogue horses.


The Famous Mr Ed-ible
The horse, quite aside from being a sturdy work animal and an excellent means of transportation for cowboys, Mongolians and the like, is in fact one tasty animal. I have to say, malgogi (horse meat) is one of the better meats I have had on the island so far, if only for the diversity of preparation showcased in the meal that night. That night, the main course was maltang, which literally means horse soup, a clear broth with leeks and a nice amount of horse meat, which in this dish tasted very much like pork, with a tasty thin layer of horse fat lining the bigger pieces. Horse soup was in no way the star of the show, in my opinion. The first course served was steamed horse slices, something alone the lines of a tenderloin, which was good, though it too tasted like gamey pork. I had the opportunity to try a piece of the more expensive horse tripe (it was only brought out to the prinicipal, who offered me a piece). It was one of the better types of tripe I've had, chewy and thankfully lacking the awful sewage flavor found in chitterlings.

Malgogi kui, or horse barbeque, is among the top three most tasty things I have eaten in Korea. It was cut into tiny morsels, and marinated excellently, the end result tasting very close to beef fajitas from Goode Company Taqueria back in Houston. If there was one thing that sold me on eating horse again, it was this; with malgogi kui, horse went from being a novelty to a legitimately tasty meal.

The Horse Restaurant. I don't know what it's name is, though if I owned one, I would name it "HorseShack".


Horse tenderloin, maybe, and one piece of horse tripe left on the plate behind.


Horse barbeque, or malgogi kui. Tasty.


Catholic Camp
The very next day following the hike up the oreum, I went away with my 6th grade students and teachers to an overnight sleep-away camp, run by the Catholic church through a handful of Korean nuns. Now, being so used to the utter division of church and state in America, I found it quite strange that they would choose a Catholic center to have a camp for a public school, but it was justified to me by the teachers, who said it was meant to teach them about ethics and such, and that it didn't involve religion. I can only imagine the uproar that a plan like this back home would cause. The ACLU would form a human wall to prevent it. Not that it mattered to me either way, but it was, in the end, a seemingly secular affair (though not knowing the words for salvation or transubstantiation in Korean, I can't be sure). The camp for me, as well as the rest of the teachers, involved sitting in a break room, reading or watching TV. I finished about half of the Harry Potter book I was reading. The night ended with the kids performing dance routines to Korean pop songs, which was cute, though around the end of the first of two hours, I was sick to death of K-pop. That night was my first time to ever sleep on a Korean yeo, or floor-bed, which did little to help my sprained leg. I woke up the next morning to another first- it was the only time I had ever been around Koreans this early in the morning, and thus was the first time I had had a real Korean breakfast of fish and rice. I just don't know how I've lived so long without experiencing the appetizing wonder that is scraping flesh off of a soggy fish at 7 am. Ugh.

My favorite dance skit. Look at that kid dance!


The next week, after a brief weekend trip to Seogwipo for a pub crawl, I again settled back into my job, where each week has been getting progressively busier. Sometime in between the construction of powerpoint presentations on Halloween (a week late) and various bodily ailments, I found time to research a plan that me and friend had been discussing for a few weeks at that point. Everytime we had seen each other, we had proposed that we should go and get a certain meal, yet after half a month of inactivity, it was time to make it happen.

Man Bites Dog (or, Oh, Kae!)
A Korean-speaking friend of ours polled her office coworkers for their suggestions of a good restaurant to get boyangtang, a (somehow) euphemistic name adopted around the 1988 Seoul Olympics for bosintang, though both terms mean exactly the same thing: "invigorating soup". Bosintang is itself a euphemism for kae jang, which literally means "dog stew". We were given directions to a restaurant named Giwachon, which we found to be little more than a converted house sitting in the shadow of a massive apartment highrise building. A family both lived and worked in the restaurant, with the spare bedrooms being used as dining areas. Both Alicia and my friend's girlfriend had accompanied us, and were relieved to see that the restaurant also served samgyetang, a whole boiled chicken filled with rice and ginseng.

The kids serving us were a bit shocked when two westerners ordered bosintang, and came back to double-check with us a minute later. After what seemed like mere minutes, our soups arrived, still boiling in their black pots. We were provided with a number of seasoning ingredients including ginger and pepper oil, which I decided to wait to add until I had tasted the actual dog meat as it was. It turns out that it is not too different from beef, tasting very similar to a good pot roast. The meat was actually incredibly tender, if occasionally stringy, and had just a bit of fat left around the edges of some pieces (in lesser amounts than the horse meat). The really suprising thing was the sheer amount of the dog meat that they added to the soup; I had eaten all of the large pieces floating in the broth, and scraped the bowl's bottom with my spoon to find a whole trasure trove of kaegogi still waiting for me.

I must say I was lucky. My friend Gabe got a lot of meat, but he also got a bit of bone, and a bluish, tough patch that looked like skin or ear. Though he was perhaps less enthusiastic about his meal, we agreed that it was good enough to try the steamed dog meat we had heard of, but been unable to find on the island (I have since been informed of its whereabouts). For such a rarely-eaten delicacy food, it was surprisingly cheap, at only 7,000 won (roughly $7) a bowl. I managed to get Alicia to try a small piece, though as she put it into her mouth and chewed it she nearly choked. She said she kept imagining a wet dog smell as she ate it.

Perhaps the greatest part of this was returning to class the next day and telling my students that I had eaten "mongmongijjigae", which translated to "bark bark soup", but comes across as "puppy soup". They either found it hilarious or horrifying, and while some kids have in fact tried it, giving me a thumbs up and shouting "very good!", the bulk of the class had not, especially the girls, who in some cases looked as if they might throw something at me.

The converted bedroom/restaurant at the Dog House.


Testing the waters...


My first time eating dog.


There was a whole lot of meat. It was great.


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Oddly enough, this was not the strangest thing that we did that week; the upcoming weekend held many strange surprises. We found out, for instance, that though Jeju Island is a pretty small place, only 15 X 30 kilometers, it has not one but two Crocodile Parks. And whatever we might have thought a "Crocodile Park" would be, there was nothing that could prepare us for the truth. All this and more, next time I can get a break from my classes.

Daegu Part Deux

Our first night out on the town in Daegu, we were introduced to the major difference between our small Jeju Island and the big cities of the Korea mainland: the overabundance of foreigners, and the lack of hospitality from the locals. It is probably safe to assume that the first of the pair causes the second, as I cannot imagine the large presence of American military in the town can help- the few groups of GIs we saw wandering around gave off the impression of muscly street gangs. The result is that, unlike Jeju, being a foreigner does not evoke interest from the locals, indeed in some cases earning scorn.

The first bar we went to was called Commun, which was another example of the vinyl-only music bar. They had Guinness on draft, which was beyond incredible, priced at only $7 a pint (I would have scoffed at paying that much a few months ago, but was by this point actually relieved to hear it was so affordable, and not the $12 Seoul pint I had heard of). The bar was choked with foreigners, which, as I stated before, was a bit of a drag- I think we all experienced a bit of culture shock, and were as a result huddled into the back corner of the large basement room the bar occupied. Seeing the album cover of Captian Beefheart's Trout Mask Replica hanging on the wall behind the bar, I tried talking to the older Korean owner about it, only for him to respond "So what? Everyone knows that album, it's common, I mean, if you actually like real music." I don't think that's the case, and certainly not in 2007, in Korea. Nonetheless I, a scolded country mouse in the big city, sat quietly finishing my seven dollar Guinness. The other bars were unremarkable aside from their utterly Western atmosphere, with American bartenders and, in one case, a kid belting out Arcade Fire covers on a small stage. I've got a video of Alicia singing along with the song 'Wake Up', but I think she'd kill me if I posted it. She might kill me for even mentioning it.

The night went on until far later than it should have, failing to keep in mind our goal to wake up early the next morning to explore the city. The night ended in an intoxicated, and therefore infuriating, session of crane game outside a convenience store. Our friend won a butane lighter on his first go, which set the hook in us to keep trying for far too long. Maybe an hour.

No Lures, Just Light
The next morning we awoke somewhat later than we had anticipated (around 11:30), and it took more than an hour to get everyone out of the hotel and into a cab for lunch. Our friends, during their extensive wandering while trying to find us the night before, had seen an Outback Steakhouse tucked away in the shopping district of downtown, on the second story of a building on top of a McDonalds. Agreeing that after a few months of fatty pork and kimchi there would be nothing better than a rare steak and a bloomin' onion, we made our way to the restaurant (telling the cab driver "Outa-backu Steaku-housa", which is apparently correct). And get a rare steak I did, perhaps one of the rarest steaks I've ever eaten. It was amazing, though even at lunch special prices, it was still $25... and it took about 2 hours or more to get back on the street.

Fighting the urge to go back to the Love Motel and take a nap, we soldiered on; My friend Gabe and I set out for a traditional Korean medicine market, while Alicia and his girlfriend went off shopping. But before we had left the main road, we found the Halloween store we had been hoping for. Quite different from the meager selection of Halloween goods found in Jeju Si, this was an entire store devoted to costumes. After considering the oversized mascot heads (see below), I settled on a cheap rubber chicken mask which, being designed for a much smaller head, I would later have to modify (as in, rip the face out of, and sloppily tie the shreds of the beak into a mask.)

A glimpse of what could have been.



Doctor, Doctor! Gimme The Newts!
Soon thereafter, we came upon the medicine district, full of ginseng peddlers and shops stacked to the ceiling with dried herbs and various animal bits. The first store that we stopped in, of the many dozens on that street alone, happened to be owned by a young English-speaking couple. It is perhaps for this reason that they were able to sell so much of their merchandise to us; they had to do little more than say "oh, that is ginseng whiskey" for us to have purchased a fifth of the liquor, and after another ten minutes of questions about the assorted wares, we came away with some red ginseng (the area's specialty) and a spicy black tea made from roughly ten different herbs. We learned that in addition to ginseng, the antlers of deer are incredibly popular as a medicinal food, boiled and eaten for a variety of ailments. We had considered buying some at a later store that seemed to specialize in them, but they are by no means cheap, and apparently are rather foul; we asked the shopkeeper, using the tiny bit of Korean we knew, if the antlers were delicious, and he nearly laughed us out of the store.

Rather inexplicably, there was an entire block of this medicine market area that was dedicated not to remedy but to... fake food displays. Groups of older women in nearly identical shops were toiling away making elaborately ornate representations of Korean foods, using a pasty substance that looked enough like dough to fool us into thinking that they might be fancy cakes, encourage us to, once again, inquire in Korean as to whether these things were delicious (really, it was the closest we could come to 'edible'). We received the very same reaction as before. These creations, made from what appeared (after a reinspection) to be the same inedible hard sugar stuff that the Mexican Dia de los Muertos calavera sugar skulls are made from. I suppose they are for restaurants to display their speciality in a window front, though I have yet to encounter a restaurant that serves entire full-grown octopus platters, or prawns larger than a baby.

The fake-food district


A particularly fine example of quality octopusmanship.


The very last store we came upon in the medical district was an old traditional Korean doctor's office, and inside we found the most wondrous things. Lining the walls were animals (or rather, parts of animals) of all shapes and sizes. Inside, we were ushered around by an elderly Korean woman, who claimed (we gathered, from her long string of Korean words peppered occasionally by an English one) that her son was a doctor in America. Starting with a large and authentic stuffed sea turtle, she showed us the doctor's menagerie of fragments, which included reindeer antlers, ox horns, mice pelts (to make you rich, she said), sea horses, and jars full of fish, scorpions, salamanders, and cockroaches. The two things that we actually tried to buy were both suspended in alcohol: white snake whiskey, and dog penis vodka. They were, unfortunately, very expensive and rare, and thus not for sale. At the very least, it was amusing to watch the old Korean woman use a stiff forearm to forcefully demonstrate the virility one would gain from drinking these liquors.

Cockroaches, for swelling and bone problems:


Newts, for the legs I think:


White Snake Whiskey, which sounds more than a little like an 80's hair band launched a liquor brand... hell, it's a better name than Cabo Wabo.


Dog Potion #9:


One-Stop Shopping
Departing from the medicine market, we caught a cab to the area around the massive Seomun Market. It is one of the three largest shopping areas in Korea, and dates back to the mid-1600's. On the way there, we walked through the red light district (the Lonely Planet guidebook recommended it), but apparently the trade is slow at four in the afternoon. Seomun market loomed ahead, and we could just begin to see how massive it is. Half and hour later, after walking through stall after stall of bootleg clothes and food vendors, we realized that we would never see all of it that night. I bought an awesome watch for around five dollars, and tried a delicious green tea pancake stuffed with cinnamon and syrup. After passing another few streets, we stumbled into the meat section, which I'll dub Animal Alley.

Cage upon cage of animals (including one obnoxious cat that would not shut up) lined the streets, either being sold for meat, or in the case of the puppies and cat, for pets (not good economic sense to eat something with such little meat, I'd think). The seafood section was impressive, with massive shark fins, skinned and dried rays, and a myriad of other strange aquatic beasts. I also got my first look at kaegogi, or Korean dog meat, seeing a half-slab of Rover laid out in a freezer, tail nub and all. We took a photo of the puppies for sale as pets, and took photos of a few hanging beef cuts, and later managed to convince our girlfriends that they were puppy fillets. They were not so happy when they learned the truth.

The entrance to a vast network of market stalls.


Animal Alley, with everything from pheasants to puppies.


These hideous monsters are called monkfish, or anglers, or (in Korean) agu, and they are, as I found out later that week, a bit on the chewy side.


What time is it? DISCO TIME!


Halloween Night
After a few hours of rest, we outfitted ourselves in our costumes, and headed out for the Thunderbird Lounge, the bar at which a large Halloween party would be held, forgoing dinner as we were all still full from our Outback excursion. The party itself was nothing too remarkable; we had attended the same bar the night before after leaving Commun, and aside from seeing a lot of familiar faces from the EPIK orientation in August (many EPIK teachers from all over Korea had come), it was quite similar to the night before... except the Korean girl tending bar had an Afro and a moustache.

Alicia and I had to do the best we could on such short notice, settling on a retread of our costumes a few years ago, though I am sure I was a much shabbier chicken this time around, with my ripped face mask. We actually came in second or third in the couples costume category, though there was only one prize, and it went to a pair of mimes. Our friend, who had made a ballerina costume from scratch, won the grand prize, though I really like another teacher's interpretation of an aggima, old Korean women who sell fruits and various other things, and can be quite rude and pushy (and spit a lot). He had the squat down exactly- they perch like that for hours at a time. We left the Thunderbird around 2am, and wandered from bar to bar until around 4:30am, then, utterly exhausted, made our way back home. The bars close at five in the morning in Korea, but I have never, even on a good night, been able to make it that late.

Cat and Chicken, The Sequel


Aggima


Pump You Up (Or, T-shirts In The Wintertime)
Departing Daegu after a rushed trip to Burger King, we arrived back in sunny Jeju Island around mid afternoon. Looking forward to a quiet afternoon of relaxing, we wheeled our suitcase out into the airport lobby, where we set eyes on a banner that immediately dismissed all of our previous plans for relaxation. The International Federation of Body Building was holding their World Championship in Jeju Stadium. Within an hour, we were at the gate of the stadium with our friend Doug, paying the nominal fee to see what promised, judging from the spectators walking around the grounds alone, a very amusing Sunday afternoon.

We found ourselves seated front-and-center, directly behind the American team. It was too late when we realized that sitting behind these hardcore bodybuilders would leave us very little room to make jokes about the proceedings, but thankfully, after an hour of struggling to keep a straight face, they departed. The opening ceremony involved a Parade of Nations, as the weightlifters from each of around 70 nations paraded out onto the stage, accompanied by a man or woman in a suit, presumably their trainer or assistant. All were not so lucky, however, including the poor little Chinese Taipei contestant who, aside from being remarkably scrawny and sporting a weaselly mustache, had no one to carry his sign.

Poor old Chinese Taipei


The competition consisted of nine weight classes with six contestants each (we only made it through the fourth round, with both hunger and antsy boredom overtaking us by that point, 3 hours later). Each contestant had an individual floor routine, consisting of freeform posing, with musical accompaniments that ranged from the overly-dramatic to the silly (see videos below). The six were then lined up side by side and made to perform mandatory poses, and then came the Pose Down. The Pose Down is the bodybuilding equivalent of a dance-off, with each contestant trying to outdo each other, often stepping in front of others, or bumping them out of the way. They are called back out, and ranked from 6th to 1st place.

Weightlifters:


Despite his cocky pose, he was in fact last place in his category.


A group of burly Brazilians were sitting above our head, and were by far the noisiest of any of the spectators in the arena. When a Brazilian contestant was on the stage, they would yell obscene cheers in Portuguese and cheer endlessly. The Koreans sitting around them often looked terrified, having no idea what these large tan beasts were capable of.

Here are a few videos:
Livin' on a prayer
Pose Down!!! (a tamer one, but the only one I've got)
The Brazilians cheering for their teammate.

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After such a busy weekend, I was ready to have a relaxed, calm week at school. I realized that this was too much to hope for on my first day back; as I walked into work on Monday morning, I was told by my co-teacher, "On Wednesday, we will climb a mountain. Get ready."