EverthingsShiny

Ming Tombs

David — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 13:56:40 +0000

Check out the latest pictures of my China trip. Ever hear of the Ming Dynasty? Of course you have. I spent a few hours touring the Ming Tombs and had the chance to go deep into an excavated Emperor's final resting place. Stirring stuff. Click the picture to see more.

My Walk Along The Wall

David — Sun, 06 Feb 2011 02:03:07 +0000

The Way To The Wall

David — Sat, 05 Feb 2011 06:03:11 +0000

The taxi driver spoke English. Well, English as best as I'd heard since arriving. He was cheerful, beaming, and highly recommended. "He'll talk good history and take many place," my hotel concierge had endorsed. "You want I call?"

I wanted she call.

And so it was the next morning, nine a.m. sharp, my second day in China, I met the man who would take me to see the Great Wall. This was a thing I'd never considered. I mean I had several options to make the relatively short ride. Myriad companies offered package tours. Buses ran regularly. Private drivers were available. Thing was, I'd had experience with tour packages, so that option was immediately off the table. I wasn't about to be shuttled from place to place for the benefit of the markets. And I didn't want to restrict myself to the timetables of the buses. I was fortunate to have money so I told the concierge I wanted a private driver for the day. And now, here he was. It wasn't until I looked him in the eye, shook his hand, and climbed into the back of his taxi, that I realized his importance in this adventure.Mr. Kong and his taxi

I can't remember when I'd first heard about the Wall, elementary school to be certain, some long ago forgotten history class, a perfunctory lecture of the Orient, fusing, as is common in the West, several remarkable and significantly different cultures. But be that as it may, the Great Wall is for me, and no doubt for countless others, a place of lure, an icon of the unreachable, a thing of unreality, detached from the common experience. It is as distant and inaccessible as The Sea of Tranquility, cloistered behind the impenetrable mystery of the land and people it has come to symbolize.

Ennobled and idealized by television and print, the Great Wall of China has been the "some day" for many, a dream appeased only by the possibility of our unwritten future.

And now I was eighty-three minutes away. My "some day" was here.

Mr. Kong had done this before. When asked, he simply laughed, "Oh, many times. I drive taxi twenty-four years. Very good driver!"

Twenty-four years. Hard to grasp. Lives are lived. Paths are crossed. One man's routine completes another man's dream. How many "some days" had he delivered?

We headed northeast. I was out of my body.

Sky was clear. No. I mean pure. Luminescent. Blue like I'd never seen before. It would remain so for the duration.

The city sped by, opened up and fell away to countryside. My eyes darted from window to window as if chasing a hummingbird. "What's that?" I asked again and again. "What's that?"

Mr. Kong talked. He pointed and smiled and spoke about his country, his city, his people, the history and legends. I thought of recording him, I should have recorded him, but as I said, this was a thing I never considered. I had film and batteries for The Wall. The Wall only. And as much I savored every word from Mr. Kong, as deeply as I listened and inquired, all the while the clock was ticking on the dashboard.

And there on the horizon appeared the first mountains. Kong said nothing, but went on about the farmers, and the growing seasons, and the divide between old ways and new, about the caste system between poor and rich, about the rise of Western life and capitalism. He explained why all the country houses were painted grey to match the old traditional stone work of ancient times, how yellow was the color of the emperor. How fields used to grow corn and rice but now were filled with apples and strawberries and persimmons.

And I listened, but my eyes drifted, drifted away from the narrow roads lined by trees with white-painted trunks (for night driving so drivers can see the sides of the road), drifted away from the streams of rusted, ragged bicycles loaded with dry reeds, straw, and twigs; riders clothed in baggy coal-gray jackets and caps. Drifted away from the clusters of dark, brick homes, dirt strewn roads, craggy-faced farmers gawking through the window. My eyes lay upon the rising peaks, bathed in brilliant yellow sunlight.

My mind played tricks. So engrained is the image of The Great Wall, so prevalent the color, shape, and form, every hint of sandy-brown stone on the hillsides fooled me. A line of rocks, an old dirt path, a clearing in the trees; is that it? Was I seeing The Wall?

We continued on, deep into the countryside. Roads thinned, trees grew thick, the horizon disappeared. Up we began to climb, slowly, steadily into the foothills. Jagged, rocky peaks rose high into the azure sky, higher than I expected, dark and foreboding, something out of Tolkien.

The road twisted, the car hobbling over uneven ruts and broken pavement. Towns dwindled to patches of fossilized homes, bare-bricked huts huddled by the roadsides, the neoteric bustle of Beijing was as good as a million miles away.

Looking at the mountains rising ever higher, I pictured armies over the centuries, Mongols from the north, hordes violently pushing south, scaling these massive mountains, themselves a natural barrier so imposing, so seemingly impossible to breach, reaching the crest only to face a stronghold as tall as the trees, stretching as far the eye can see, manned by an army mounted and fortified for an eternal defense.

It is impossible not to feel this. The mountains are a canvas of history. Swaths of bare, broken rock-face lay exposed; twisting, worn and rutted trails weave long, gutted paths through the timber. Perhaps goaded by my anticipation, my imagination seizes these vistas and colors them rich with ghosts of soldiers and steads clamoring up the slopes. I am immediately regretful of my ignorance. My want for seeing a thing has clouded my need to learn fully why it is there, a neglect, then and there, promised to be corrected.

But this does not diminish my expectation. I am continuously mindful of the clock.

And we are less than twenty minutes away when Mr. Kong pulls the car around a tight right turn along a stone-strewn embankment and takes his hand from the wheel, extending it straight across the cab with a finger pointing up and out the passenger side window.

"There it is," he says.

The words were superfluous. No sandy-brown stone on the hillsides was this; no line of rocks or old dirt path. The Great Wall perched upon this distant ridge, majestic, serene, waiting . . .

I was in China. There it was.

The remainder of our journey was nearly in silence. I suspect Mr. Kong understood this necessity. No doubt this moment was not new for him. I was grateful for his enthusiasm, his patience, and enduring pride.

When at last we arrived at the base of the peak I would summit, he directed me to the cable cars, warmed me of the peddlers and merchants, and handed me a cell phone to use to call him after my descent; he would park and nap while I was away. Nap. In the shadow of The Great Wall.

I did run the gauntlet of the vendors, rode that cable car up, and spent three full hours on China's Great Wall. I sit here now, back to my usual life, searching for ways to detail that time, looking for words to chronicle the experience, to find some method or manner in which all this could be shared with you. There are marvels in this world, sites of natural profound beauty, astonishing works of art, visions perennial and fleeting. And for each of us, these marvels may be different, our own, and touch us in ways too personal to describe. Maybe that is what The Great Wall will be for me. It is no less mysterious, no less magnificent, no less than what decades of imagination can render a thing. But I have been there, walked at length along its ancient ramparts, felt the same cold stone bricks with my own hands as those of armies from centuries ago, and stood atop a tower and looked out over the vast open Chinese countryside.

What next will my "some day" be?

David Claus - Photo Discovered

David — Wed, 26 Jan 2011 08:12:26 +0000

After an extensive search, as the official camera for the Gyeongsan Gifted Students' Christmas party was accidentally erased, a photograph of me dressed as Santa has at last surfaced!

You better watch out!Taken by my co-teacher 태영 (Taeyoung) with her cell phone, I believe this was just about when I got on stage. Moments before, Paul, my co-hort from the Pohang Beach party, gave me a rousing intro, getting the students excited. As I burst into the hall, the youngsters shouted with delight, pointing and laughing. The older students had no trouble figuring out who was behind the beard, but they played along, some poking fun at the skinny Claus. Christmas isn't nearly as big a holiday here, and Santa is hardly the mystical entity he is in the West, but the kids know enough about him to know he means fun. I had a few younger students sit on my lap and pull on my beard, each with that special kind of wonder only a little kid can have.

The party went on for a few hours. We made lots of ornaments for some Christmas trees, ate a lot of cake and snacks (all stuffed in those white boxes in the picture), and generally had a great time.

The costume itself was ludicrously hot. I can clearly see why the real Santa lives in the North Pole. When I peeled it off, I was soaked to my bones. But it was worth it. It was a great opportunity to play the part and make the kids laugh. For the rest of the camp, I was "Santa" to the students; many coming up to me the following day, prodding me with:

"You were Santa right, Teacher David?"

"Oh no," I replied. "Santa went back to the North Pole, so you better be good!"

There's nothing like a child's skeptical eye and knowing smile. But a few walked away undecided.

"Ho, ho, ho."

Korean Tofu Cakes

David — Sun, 23 Jan 2011 10:16:48 +0000

Enjoy this easy recipe for a healthy snack or side dish!

Graduation Day

David — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 10:02:59 +0000

After a great year of hard work and lots of fun, my Gifted Students' class has come to a close. We shared a lot over the last 12 months, including field trips to the sea, an English festival and play, a Christmas party and lots of other activities. There were some rough days of course, a few troublesome lessons, but we worked through and had a blast.
It's sad to see them go, as it is every year.
Now it's time for a short break and then get geared up for the next semester of gifted students.

Masked Students

David — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 11:16:52 +0000

The winter camp is half-way through already. We've been teaching our gifted students four classes a day every day and it's been a lot of work but even more fun. There is no curriculum for the gifted students, it's all up to the teachers to come up with ideas, create lessons, and compile materials. It's pretty stressful to come up with four lessons every day that are challenging and diverse, but we're having a blast.
Today, one of my lessons was about communication with directions. I took the old classic game of drawing shapes by directions from someone else and tweaked it for my students.
First, without telling them what the lesson was about, and to spark some interest, I passed out swaths of felt paper and scissors and told them to make masks with no eye holes. These kids are really creative and came up with some fun designs using markers and tape.
Next, with their curiosity high, I put on a mask I made and had my co-teacher direct me to draw a shape (a square) on the blackboard using only the directions she offered. We exaggerated our movements and had some for the sake of the presentation.
The kids got a big laugh at the ridiculous shape I drew.
We then brainstormed vocabulary about words needed to tell a person directions, and then added a few they weren't familiar with.
Next, we had students make teams of two and passed out whiteboards and markers. I had already printed and lamenated a series of shapes for each team and handed them their materials.
And then away they went.
Then they came up with their own shapes and did their best to stump their partners.
They did a great job and I'm really proud of them for their hard work.
Click the picture to see more and a short video of the class.
Stay shiny!

Sunday Afternoon On The River

David — Sun, 09 Jan 2011 09:57:17 +0000

Temps warmed up to the mid-40s and many families gathered on the river near my house for some ice sledding and kite flying.
Kids use a plank of wood with two small poles to push themselves around the ice. Parents help out with a tow here and there as well. Motorized teddy bears pull little red sleighs around pylons (check out the video on Flickr), giving kids a thrill in the chill. It had been quite cold here for a while and the sunny afternoon was welcome. We've had record snows this year and though the kids are really enjoying it, I'm ready for spring. It was nice to get out and walk around today, and coming upon this crowd was a pleasant surprise.

Click on the picture to see more!

Winter Blues

David — Tue, 28 Dec 2010 22:11:01 +0000

Well, as winter tries to keep up with the summer for amount of precipitation, here in Korea we are getting slammed with snow nearly every day, like the East coast of the United States.
Some musing on a country that rarely if ever gets snow to this amount:
In Seoul, police were using their riot shields as shovels since snow shovels basically don't exist here.
With just over an inch of snow in my city, traffic was nearly put to a stop and people were abandoning their cars.
Umbrellas were everywhere.
The truck that delivers eggs and toilet paper to the locals in my neighborhood couldn't make it up the slope of my road so he parked at the end of the street and turned up the volume on his speaker EVEN LOUDER. (Here in Korea, vendors drive around in little blue pick-up-like trucks with speakers on the roofs announcing their goods).
By mid-afternoon, there were more snowmen sitting on the stoops of local shops than people on the street.

Now, I hate snow. I've made this clear to anyone who will listen. I've had enough of it. I lived in upstate New York most of my life and boy do they get snow! When I arrived in Korea in 2008, there was literally three hours of snow that year. It started at eight am and disappeared by eleven. Last year, we got record amounts - it snowed on three separate days. I could live with that. Fine. Nothing like the New York winters I was used too.
Now, this year . . . every damned day! I'm cursed.
Oh well, time to get bundled up. Off to work.
Good thing I put snow tires on my bicycle.

Where Have I Been?

David — Mon, 20 Dec 2010 21:41:17 +0000

For anyone regularly checking, I apologize for my long absence. The past month has been incredibly busy as we wind down the end of the school year here and gear up for the winter classes.

Also, I am taking a TESOL (teaching English to speakers of other languages) course, which is taking up all my free time in the evenings. Not to mention my continued study of Korean.

Videos will return shortly and more fun posts are on the way!

Enjoy the holidays and stay shiny.