Baseball, Korean-style

Korea really embraces all things American, probably in the hope that the Americans will protect them next time a neighboring country comes invading. So you increasingly find American restaurants, brands and forms of recreation popping up in the cities.

Cricket is a game of timing, tactics, skill and grace. Its as English as the language itself. And just like with the English language, the Americans have packaged it into a quicker, flashier and more commercially successfully form: baseball.

Baseball comes just after snail racing in popularity stakes in South Africa, but I was happy to join my church crew for my first baseball game in Daejeon on Saturday.

Fortunately, there were one or two avid fans among them who could explain the gist and the rules of the game to me. Its like rounders, only with adults playing it.

Now there is an urban legend in the cricketing world that a couple of West Indian cricketers made a pile of money playing baseball. They came back to cricket because ''there was no challenge in baseball!''. It seems to me that baseball players don't know how to hit a ball. Its no wonder that our team (the Hanwha Eagles!) only scored about three runs in the entire game. (I think the other team scored 5 or 6, and won.)

So instead of traditional American hot dogs at the baseball, the Koreans were eating "sausage on a stick", which is made from some sort of unidentifiable meat that Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler would be proud to sell. The snacks that were identifiable, usually come animals with tentacles. And while the Americans shout "bring in the relief pitcher!", the Koreans do perfectly synchronized dances in the stands.

I was just starting to get into the game (especially the 'slow motion' Mexican wave of the Korean crowd) when it was over. After two hours, the Americans start complaining about how long the game takes. Clearly, they haven't sat at Newlands for five days of glorious sunshine, cricket and intermittent sleeping. You just can't rush art, guys.

A pirate I was meant to be!

En Garde! Touche!

Oh, that is so cliche.

So, one of the most normal things I did in Korea was watch "Pirates of the Caribbean 3" at Yawoori, our downtown cinema last Wednesday. With the lights dimmed and the sound blaring gloriously in English, I almost forgot I was in Korea. (You don't notice the Korean subtitles after a while..) Of course, after the movie, I had to fight my way through the droning Korean masses, and the illusion was shattered.

Now, I love pirates. I enjoyed the terror of reading "Treasure Island" as a child. I grew up playing Monkey Island. I even wrote a killer paper on "The Discourse of Piracy" in which I deconstructed pirate culture using Foucault and Derrida and other convoluted theorists.

I love Betsy's endless string of pirate jokes.

"What's a pirates favorite food?"

"B...arrr...beque" etc.

I love pirate insult sword fighting and pirate songs. When someone says to you: "You're as repulsive as a monkey in a negligee!", what bliss is there in quickly retorting: "I look that much like your fiancee?" I love talking like a pirate on "International Talk Like a Pirate Day." (remember - Sept 19!)

So I quite naturally embraced Captain Jack Sparrow and the rest of the undead pirates from the first two Pirates of the Caribbean movies.

So what was this one like? The consensus seems to be that it was written for someone with Attention Deficit Disorder: the plot changes every five minutes. After a while it doesn't matter who they are fighting, you just sit back and watch the pretty graphics and wait for the next punchline from Jack Sparrow. (Remember when Elizabeth says: "There will come a moment when you will have a chance to do the right thing." Sparrow responds: "I love those moment. I love to wave at them as they pass by.") But the script writers were remarkably inept, considering how much money and material they had at their disposal. Perhaps they just got a little carried away. (More fighting! More monsters! More twists in the plot!)

But was a soothing two and a half hours all the same. All the escapism I could wish for.

Hey, it was Pirates. There was no way it was going to be bad.

How we dress up God

So today was a sweet (and rare) holiday for me. I decided to pay homage to Buddha on his birthday. Not for any personal religious convictions, but more out of a sense of curiosity for a religion that oozes peace from all pores.

So we went to Taejosan to see what festivities were taking place there.
Luckily, my fellow travelers were not discouraged by the downpour that coincided with our visit. (Koreans melt in the rain, but foreigners don't.)

We made lotus flower lanterns and listened to the hypnotic temple music. A simple, unhurried worship was taking place beneath our flashing cameras. So, what Buddhist ever started a war? Come to think of it, what Buddhist even annoyingly pushed a pamphlet into your hand? What Buddhist tried to convert you with a maniacal look on his face?

Much of the action was taking place around three big golden statues in one of the temples. Now, I know Exodus well enough to realise that golden statues = idol worship. The rich decor and intricate details fascinated me, but at a guarded distance.

I love the beauty of the statues, but I don't like the idea of worshipping them. Because people inevitably make God into the image of themselves. And we have little imagination when it comes to the sublime.

So the Buddhist dress their deity in shining gold and adorn him with a face of peace and wisdom. For us, (Western) (Christians),we dress God up through the way we pretend Him to be 1) easy to understand 2) easy to follow and how we present ourselves to be 3) in sublime control 4) all-knowing and 5) superficially happy.

It makes our "product" - our God, look good - right? So we play this game of pretence, wear the gear, speak the lingo and do the moves that gets us a spiritual stamp of approval.
And that's how we dress up God: shiny as an Easter Egg, and disappointingly hollow.

Why do we do this to something that can be as mystical as silence, and a joyful as a mountain drenched in rain..?

History lesson in Konglish

On Wednesday, I went to the Independence Hall of Korea.

On my way into the huge park, I picked up a brochure. It promised that:

"you would be joyful in full of emotion and fun" and I entered with trepidation.

In a series of fascinating exhibitions, I got to see "our modernization to be achieved by us!" and "boldly even at the Korean people's severest ordeal and much "boastful Korean tradition to overcome the national disturbances". So while Korean brochure writers clearly do not lack passion and patriotism, they quite often lack subjects and past tense.

The Independence Hall commemorates a lot of Japanese gore - and while the Japs were no doubt cruel and oppressive, I was surprised that people are comfortable remembering violence in such a graphic form. (Come look at our decapitations! Enjoy the eye-gouging! Let your kids play in the torture chambers!)

In South Africa, the end of racist violence is only about 13 years old. Seeing the Independence Hall makes me wonder how we will commemorate some of the darker chapters of our dark history. I don't have much faith in history. Since its likely to be only the story told by the victors, I think they might as well choose the version that would lead to the least animosity.

So its suits the Koreans to remember that they were the victims. It bonds them together. It allows them to remain aloof. In South Africa, its a little more difficult to build monuments to the cruelty of the Afrikaner. That's because in South Africa, victims and perpetrator still share office space. It's difficult to "rise up in liberation" against your colleagues.

So for me its refreshing to be in a country that doesn't mince its words when its talking history.

Even if its still slaughters English while doing so.

The bus

Korea is a country which is difficult to pin down in writing. It is contradicting in a way that can make your head spin.

First, there's the mind-blowing technology alongside a paddy-field mentality. 300km per hour bullet trains leaving everyone still on"African time" in the dust...

But to maintain this slick, synchronized technological marvel demands a few extreme measures. At the bottom of the public transport pyramid is the bus that takes us plebs from Mokcheon into Cheonan City (for the necessities like groceries, Starbucks coffee and intelligent conversation!) Because of my regular need of these three things, I've thrown in my lot with a dubious (if cheap, and regular) form of pubic transportation.

1) Confucius say: the bus is never full.

There is always place for one more. "Standing room only" is a misleading term, as you will probably find yourself supported by the knees, legs and heads of various passengers. Koreans have no sense of personal space, so when the final 10 pm bus comes past..everyone and his geriatric grandmother has to be on it. Korea has a large population and on some Sunday nights, I believe that they are all sharing a bus with me.

2) Ride the roller coaster on your way.

As the bus races around precipitous turns at the speed it needs to to be on time at the next stop, you start feeling the floor shifting under you. When it turns right, you are thrown right, when it turns left, you are thrown left (generally into many other people!) and when it stops passengers skid forward out of their chairs and into the standing passengers or across the floor. Foreigners fare much worse than locals, who have generally learnt how to "surf the bus" since they were in elementary school. It helps to put your arms out and pretend the bus is going over waves - but I still find myself wondering "should the floor be moving this much?"

3) Oedipus complex in bus drivers.

Bus drivers have a low status position in Korea. But they set the tone on the road. They have the biggest er.... vehicles. With this they are able to exert their authority on the minions who travel by foot and by car. Korean drivers hoot as their birthright and it doesn't matter who has right of way. This is definitely a "mine is bigger than yours" economy.

4) We are the rudder.

When the bus is very full, Korean bus drivers often shout at their passengers as they are driving along. I image its something like "lean to the left" or "lean to the right" as we go around sharp curves. I suspect that this is the motion that stops our bulging bus from falling over, but I would prefer if this remains an untested theory.

5) All's well that ends well.

Despite all this, I am happy to be in a country where there is public transport, where you don't have to carry a knife on the train and where a single girl like me has the independence of being able to take myself almost anywhere on my own. So I salute you, the humble bus, long may you continue to provide me with unmitigated adventures...