Breathe: A How To Guide For Pandemics

April 6, 2020 — 1 Comment

I remember thinking, “what’s the big deal?” it’s just another virus, much like H1N1 had been. I remember thinking that it would remain predominantly in China and East Asia, with a few cases scattered here and there. I remember feeling light, unburdened by the worries that now cling to my mind, that keep me tossing and turning at night wondering “what if?”

There are so many uncertainties.

And I’ll admit to being scared.

The world is becoming increasingly unrecognisable, consumed by news reports and morbid memes. There is no rock big enough to hide under. But as horrible as the reality of the situation may be, it is important to continuously look it in the eye, to remind yourself that this is happening. Because the virus isn’t the only threat to our society.

We are equally dangerous, if not more so.

Human stupidity, coupled with unapologetic ignorance, has led to the proliferation of the virus in the West, in spite of our ‘modernity.’ Over the last few days I have found myself continuously asking the question: “How did we get to this point?”

To put it in perspective: South Korea is approximately 1/10th the size of the province of Ontario, with 3.5 times the population and yet has managed to control the spread of the virus without impacting the economy or social infrastructure to the extent that Canada has. Most businesses, excluding museums, gyms, and schools, have remained opened. No one has attempted to hoard necessary supplies. People have continued to live, albeit more cautiously than before, but they have continued to live nonetheless.

Which is to say, that as bad as it all may seem there is still hope. Cling to that.

Remind yourself that this is temporary. Acknowledge the anxiety, the depressive thoughts you keep trying to push aside, allow yourself to feel because this is hard and it is okay to struggle, to find yourself slipping back into negative spaces.

Just don’t stay there.

I have been in pseudo-isolation for two months now, and have learned that there is nothing worse than staying inside, confined to the same four walls. It begins to feel like a prison. Go outside if you can, open up the windows if you can’t. Breathe in the air, feel the sunlight on your skin. Find one small thing that makes you smile, and do it.

In University I read a play called “Waiting For Godot,” which was about nothing, or to be specific, the importance of nothing. It was a play that forced the audience to simply sit still, to exist in a moment that had no purpose other than ‘to be.’ People left.

Because people are not good at being by themselves; it’s uncomfortable.

But there is value in learning how to be alone, in being okay with the silence. Our society has become obsessed with progress, with constantly needing to move forward to such an extent that this sudden stillness is debilitating. Take this isolation, this quarantine, as an opportunity to fall in love with yourself. Lie down for a moment and just breathe.

Just breathe.

 

All For One, And One For All: A Look Into Canada’s Fear Response

March 14, 2020 — 1 Comment

I cannot even begin to comprehend how rapidly the situation in Canada has deteriorated. Considering there has only been 197 reported cases, as opposed to the 7,979  in South Korea. It is startling to think how easily we have abandoned reason for the mass panic that is proving to be far more infectious a virus that Corona/COVID-19 could ever hope to become.

I’ll admit, it was entertaining at first. People made memes about the toilet paper shortage, joked about how it took Roll Up The Rim to make Canadian’s wash their hands. I even saw someone post about how at least Betty White was still alive; the millennials way of gauging the oncoming apocalypse.

But now, seemingly overnight, the country has erupted into what can only be described as madness. There is legitimate fear in people’s eyes, and while I do not wish to undermine the gravity of the situation, the reality is that everything will be okay.

How do I know this?

Because I am living in the country with the third highest number of COVID-19 cases, outside of China. Because I have ten rolls of toilet paper in my closet, and a grocery store around the corner that has remained fully stocked. Because even in the city that has been hit the hardest, large businesses have remained opened. People are worried, and paranoid, yes. But they have not reacted anywhere close to the way Canada has.

And a lot of it has to do with the fact that they aren’t thinking only of themselves.

Korea, like many asian countries, is a collectivist society, meaning that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. It has been ingrained into their culture to view others within their community as extended family members, which is reflected in their language as well. An elderly man is called ‘hɑɾɑbod͡ʒi’ meaning grandfather, while an elderly woman is called ‘hɑɭmoni’ meaning grandmother. Even a female server at a restaurant would be addressed as ‘imo’ meaning aunt, while an older male/female friend would be referred to as either ‘obʰa/hʲʌŋ’ or ‘ʌnni/nunɑ’ meaning older brother/sister, respectively.

There are no strangers, which makes it near impossible to act selfishly. No one here is going to buy twenty cans of tuna, if it means that the shelves are empty for the neighbour they’ve never spoken to. People here support each other, because they know that it is their responsibility to do so.

And it is our responsibility as well.

COVID-19: Up Close and Personal

March 5, 2020 — Leave a comment

I am by no means a medical professional, and have made a point of avoiding most of the propaganda surrounding the Coronavirus and COVID-19 viral outbreak. But since returning to South Korea where the number of reported cases now exceeds 5,000 it is nearly impossible to avoid succumbing to the mass paranoia.

In a single day, I will receive multiple Governmental texts updating me on the locations of new cases, essentially informing me of the geographical spread. Face masks have disappeared from shelves, businesses have closed. The streets have emptied of people, as everyone hides behind a self-imposed quarantine.

Which for me, feels mildly ridiculous. Yes, this virus is highly contagious. Yes, people have died as a result of it. But in terms of fatality rates, the Coronavirus and COVID-19 are relatively low in comparison to the multitude of other viruses and diseases that people can and do contract every single day.

So unless you have a pre-existing medical condition, or a weakened immune system that would put you in a higher risk bracket, there is no reason to be scared. Fear is infectious, and oftentimes more debilitating than the thing you are afraid of. It cannot and should not be allowed to govern your life, because as long as you are alive, you are susceptible to death. Every time you walk out your door, you put yourself at risk.

This is no different.

Yet, even in the small remote town of Jangsu with a population of 26,000, you will be hard-pressed to find someone who isn’t worried. For me, the only worry on my mind is what will happen if the spread of the virus continues, forcing an airport closure similar to that of the Hubei province. For me, the biggest concern is whether or not I will be able to return home at the end of my contract in two months time.

Minor things, that others may shake their heads and laugh at. Because despite everything I have said until this point, this virus is serious in so far as how it effects the social and economic structure of our communities.

But, like all viruses we have seen throughout our history, it will eventually run its course.

People get sick.

But they also get better.

There’s No Place Like Home

March 1, 2020 — 1 Comment

When I first left for South Korea, I did so with the intention of never coming back. I was going to make this foreign country home. But home is more than just four walls and a roof overhead. It is memory. It is knowing the story behind every stain in the carpet and scratch on the furniture. When I look around my apartment in Jangsu, all I see is empty space. There are no ghosts to haunt my recollections.

Apparently, I don’t do so well on my own.

One night, while watching a movie on my laptop, I actually started to cry. A few quiet tears falling down my cheeks, because I knew that if I were still in Canada that my Dad would be sitting beside me; downstairs on the couch, with my cat curled up against my side.

For me, it’s the little things that have always been the hardest.

Those day-to-day moments that you often take for granted. The sound of my Dad cheering during a Leaf’s game, my Mom’s voice yelling at me through the vents because our house is one giant Tin Can Telephone. Plopping on the couch to the tune of 90 Day Fiancé. Beating my Dad at Crib. Laughing at my mispronunciation of words.

Just being with them.

The thing I missed the most, was just being with them.

Which, if I am being honest, I had probably taken for granted while living in Canada. I thought that it would be easy, leaving them. That I would be okay seeing them twice a year, talking through the screen of my laptop. But if I have learned anything over the past ten months, it’s that there are no guarantees when it comes to time. Shit happens. And the people that you thought would always be there, can disappear. All it takes is a single moment.

And I don’t want to be over 6000miles away from home when that moment comes.

I’ve had people tell me that you have to live your life for yourself. That I shouldn’t move back to Canada just because my Grandfather has Alzheimer’s. That sometimes people get sick, and sometimes people die. That you have to keep living, doing the thing that you love.

Well, I love my family.

And I would rather be close enough to drop by for a Hockey Game with my Dad on the weekend, or drinks with my Mom after work. I would rather have a million little things. Day-to-Day nothings, than the life I have built for myself here in Korea.

I want to watch them grow old(er) in person. I want to be there.

But instead I am here. For 56 more days.

56 days that I will be counting down. My suitcase left open on the floor, waiting…

A Generation of Lost Boys

January 18, 2020 — Leave a comment

When you are born you are given a set of tools, and told you must build a house for yourself. So you imagine a castle crafted from clouds and stardust, with turrets spiralling high into the heavens. You picture stained glass windows, and golden chandeliers dripping with miniature suns and moons. Your eyes grow bright and wide with wonder, filled with possibility.

Until the world turns your gaze. Until parents start tailoring your dreams to fit their version of reality. Only Kings and Queens can live in castles, they will say, only birds and astronauts can touch the clouds, hold the moon. They will tell you, that there are limits to what you can achieve, before giving you a pre-made blueprint, drawn from everything they wanted for themselves.

They will be the architect, and expect you to lay the bricks, plaster the walls. You will build a house, but it will not be your home. Just a roof over your head. And for some, that will be enough. But for others, it will only serve as a garish reminder of everything that could have been. Of a dream, swept under the rug of reality.

But here’s the thing: it is never too late to tear it all down.

Which is to say, the expectation that you will have your life together by a certain age is wrong. You can go to sleep with one dream, and wake with another. You can choose one path, and find a different road along the way. Or you can stand still, holding a broken compass in your hand: lost and unsure.

Because life isn’t built from a blueprint.

But from the combination of today and tomorrow.

Etched in the Mind, Inked on the Skin

January 6, 2020 — 1 Comment

Korea is a conservative country, especially where tattoos are concerned. As an English teacher, it is expected that I cover my arms and keep these artistic forms of expression a secret from students and staff. Though fortunately, because my school is located far from the societal demands of the city, I am able to roll up my sleeves and expose these personal portraits of my life.

And they are personal. Every single one of my tattoos paints a story. Some of which are short and sweet, like the bunny on my side, while others are long and tangled in meaning, like the gangster teddy bear on my wrist. But all are equally significant.

Including my most recent.

Taken from a Japanese Anime called “K Project,” the sword alongside the quote serves to represent self-sacrifice, as well as the strength in our relationships to each other. It also reminds me of a high school friend. Mostly though, it acts as a ‘note to self’ reminding me that when people kill themselves, regardless of the reason, if it is egoistic or altruistic, their pain is ultimately passed on to those they leave behind.

Considerably deep, for a glorified cartoon.

But that is just one answer to one question, and tattoos are rarely so simple.

See, because of Korea’s conservative society, tattoo artists have been forced to the no-name streets of the big cities, their studios hidden in building basements, behind unmarked doors in places that don’t show on conventional maps. Whereas in Western society, studios are broadcasted, their names plastered on brick walls in unmissable font.

In other words, my first thought when I arrived at the address for the studio was “this can’t be the place,” a fourth floor apartment with a purple painted door and a rack of slippers. I would not have been surprised to see a woman, wrapped in a bathrobe, walk out. But instead, I found a young man passed out drunk on a couch. It was 11 a.m on a Sunday in Hongdae, one of Korea’s most notorious drinking districts, so I was not entirely shocked by this, though I certainly hadn’t planned on being some stranger’s alarm clock.

Yet, despite initial appearances, he proved to be exceptionally meticulous in his work. Take the stencil for example, he carefully drew guidelines to ensure that it was correctly placed. Though he did almost position the tattoo opposite the direction I had specified, which, to be fair, is often considered backwards. Cannot blame him for that. Besides, the stencil is just an outline; the canvas on which the true masterpiece is crafted from needle and ink.

That is where the title of artist is earned.

Now obviously I have been tattooed before, but the majority of my tattoos have either been too simple or too specific a design to allow for much creative interpretation. Whereas this time I went in knowing that my original idea would be altered in the style of the artist, and in fact chose him based on his unique perspective. But that being said, I had no way of knowing how that style would be injected into the design of the tattoo. All I knew was that the initial design he showed me would come to only vaguely resemble the final product.

A bit of a risk, to put it mildly.

But as I said before, he proved to be a very meticulous artist, and at multiple points would stop his work to analyse the tattoo with a gaze so entirely focused that there could be a bomb exploding in the background and he wouldn’t blink. It was an experience in and of itself just to watch him work, to see how he scanned the tattoo, weighing its balance to decide where and how to draw his lines. As a client, it made me trust him. As a person, it made me respect him.

He is an artist.

And I am happy to have been tattooed by him.

As a fun little aside though, I didn’t choose this artist based purely on his style, but rather on previous clients, most notably Ash Island, who, as it turns out, had been the reason I found him passed out drunk.

Kind of cool, right?

 

 

Fixing for Fitness

October 31, 2019 — Leave a comment

Here’s the thing: I have a tendency to get overly anxious when it comes to new social situations. I’m the kind of person that likes to know what I am walking into, which is why it has taken me six months of being in Korea to finally work up enough courage to check out the ‘local’ CrossFit gym. I put air quotes there because local in Jangsu terms is about an hour and a half bus ride followed by a 30 minute walk.

Fortunately though, it proved worth the journey. Because Let’s CrossFit Jeonju, like the majority of CrossFit boxes, checks any and all judgment at the door. It is a community space, decorated with positive vibes and slightly masochistic tendencies. You could weight 200 or 130 lbs, lift barbells like they’re made of feathers or stick to a PVC pipe, you could Rx the workout or scale the fuck out of it and no one will give a shit. The only thing  that matter is you, and the effort that you put in. CrossFit is about finding your limit, staring it in the face, and saying: let’s push it a little further.

But that being said, it is still intimidating. Especially here, because unlike in Canada where you’ll find a wide variety of people in the gym. In Korea, it is predominantly male. Specifically young males, around my age or a little older, most of whom have some sort of experience with weight lifting or high intensity exercise. In other words: I felt like a mouse that had wandered into the den of a lion.

But for a mouse, I think I did pretty well.

The WOD, or workout of the day, started with a complex, consisting of two hang cleans and two front squats and built to a heavy max. Since I have not touched a barbell in two months, I kept it fairly light, quickly building to a stable 65lbs which I maintained for multiple sets. This was followed by 3 rounds for time of 10 Hang Squat Cleans – 15 Toes to Bar – 20 Wall ball Shots. I did the first round with 55lbs on the bar, knees to chest, and a 10lb wall ball…but ended up scaling further in the second round to just the 35lb bar for 6 reps, instead of 10, and for the last round I scaled the wall ball shots to 12.

It was not one of my better days, but, to be fair, I am not particularly strong in a front-rack position and I absolutely hate wall balls (as most people do). But if you want to get better, you can’t cherry pick your workouts, and judging by how jellied my thighs were at the end, I’ll be feeling this one for a while.

Though to be honest, I love waking up to sore muscles.
It means that I pushed myself.
And I want to keep pushing.

So yes, I will be going back.

KB Rapbeat Festival 2019

October 7, 2019 — Leave a comment

The day was about as toasty as you could expect from late September in South Korea, meaning that my ripped jeans and black t-shirt were probably about the worst thing I could have worn to an 11 hour out-door festival. But as they say, hindsight is 20/20 and I have far from perfect vision.

Still, the suffering was relatively minimal. Once you had finished trekking up the massive incline leading into the venue and downed two full bottles of liquid, that is. I should also probably note, that unlike most music festivals which are held in wide open areas like parking lots and random fields, this one was right smack in the middle of an amusement park. As in, you had families walking around with strollers in hand while rappers performed on a stage less than five metres away.

It was an interesting audience.

But I have to give credit to the event organisers, because the various stages were well-arranged, making it easy to manoeuvre between them, except of course when the more popular artists started to play, because then you would have this mass migration of people that literally felt like a tidal wave of bodies.

In the beginning though the atmosphere was very relaxed as people surveyed the various tents and food-trucks scattered throughout, took their instagram pictures, and strategised for the evening, choosing who they would and wouldn’t see. For myself, the decision was relatively easy, since I had already been to the NBA Buzzerbeat festival only a few months prior. Though I still begrudged the conflicting show-times, as I would have liked to have seen E Sens and Beenzino perform, both of whom are well-known and respected Korean rappers. Plus you had the special appearance of Keith Ape, a rapper that started to trend after the video for It G Ma went viral.

At the end of the day though, I am satisfied with the line-up I did get to see. They may not have been the most hype of performers, but they were all undeniably talented. Especially Sam Kim, a Korean-American singer known for his expert guitar playing and smooth vocals. And while I would not personally call myself a fan, considering the fact that I know only a total of two songs, now three thanks to his rendition of No 눈치, I found myself bobbing my head and tapping my foot along to the infectious rhythm of his songs.

Similarly, I was not overly a fan of the crew YTC4LYF, whose performance followed shortly after Sam Kim’s. But I wanted to see them because one of their crew members, Zene The Zilla, has been steadily rising in popularity after appearing on the rap survival program Show Me The Money. There is something about him that is intrinsically attractive. Some unknown quality that allows him to control the stage. He is someone that I have been paying more and more attention to lately, though I remain undecided on his actual music. Much like Coogie, whose crew came on after YTC4LYF’s set. He, like Zene, rose in popularity after appearing on Show Me The Money777, developing a reputation for high-energy performances and addictive raps. Neither of which he disappointed on. Which is impressive given the fact that he is a relatively inexperienced rapper. Though I personally don’t see him progressing much further within the industry as he relies too heavily on trend, and has yet to firmly develop his own sound.

Unlike Penomeco who is very distinctive in his style, and has showed consistent improvement over the years. He is someone that resists the classical definition of rap, and instead seeks to redefine the term with experimental music. Which is probably why I prefer his live music to his studio recordings. Because in his live renditions the tracks take on a slightly different vibe, infused with his overwhelming energy and stage presence. Whereas the studio versions have more of a coffee-shop feel to them. It also helps that he has a very likeable demeanour, and easily conveys his personality whilst performing. It definitely makes for a tough act to follow.

But fortunately, the next performer in the line-up was Superbee featuring Uneducated Kid. Now, for those of you unfamiliar with the Korean rap scene, Superbee is a fairly infamous name, due to a certain diss he made on Show Me The Money Season 4. At the time, he had a very uncouth image, and garnered a lot of hate for his antagonist remarks. But over the years he has worked towards a more positive reputation, producing songs with bright beats and charming lyrics. And has now established himself as one of the best rappers currently active in South Korea. Though he never finished higher than 3rd on the rap survival program. But considering that the rappers he lost to were Cjamm, Behwy (Season 5), and Loopy (Season777) I feel like this fact can be ignored.

Anyways, after his performance there was a bit of a lull, during which I took a much needed food and beverage break before attempting to rejoin my friends who had headed to a different stage to see Heize. This was probably around 4, meaning that everyone who was going to be at the concert was at the concert, and so instead of casually making my way to the other stage, I found myself navigating a hoard of people.

Which I admittedly cut in front in.

Because there was a line. A huge, long line, winding all the way to the adjacent stage. And rather than stand in that line, I slowly, and as inconspicuously as possible, ebbed my way into the flow of people heading in. It wasn’t fair, I know. But I figured if I was ever going to find my friends, then I needed to do so before the massive crowd flooded the area. And it worked, so alls well that ends well?

Though of course, finding my friends was only step one. Step two was trying to position ourselves as close to the stage as possible before too many people started to lock in. Luckily, we had decided on our final stage for the evening fairly early on, and were able to advance our positions during the transitions between artists. The first of which was the crew You.Will.Know. Headed by R&B Singer and Producer Dean, You.Will.Know is still a relatively new crew consisting of a total of three members. Though I could be wrong, because Dean is the only artist I am familiar with, and the only one I really paid attention to during their set. A phenomenal vocalist, Dean is known for his very atmospheric tracks as well as his role in Fanxy Child, which Penomeco is also a member of. However, most of his popularity is limited to female fans, in part because of his appearance, but also because his style of music is less appealing to male fans.

Whereas Ash Island and Changmo, whose sets followed Dean’s, have a more equal ratio of female to male fans. Probably because their music precedes their appearances. But also because stylistically, they tend to lean towards heavier and more aggressive beats. Especially in the case of Ash Island who is a combination of 90’s grunge and 70’s punk. He is someone that I had initially side-lined, believing his sudden popularity to be undeserved, but after catching part of his performance at NBA Buzzer Beat I realised that I may have been unjustly biased, and so I made a point of seeing him at KB. And suffice to say, he was good. There is just something about his personality that is simultaneously endearing and intimidating, kind of like those feisty pets, the sweet to scary stuffed animal. He draws you in. Though, to be fair, so does Changmo. He is someone that has been around for a while now, and his experience shows in his artfully constructed raps and overflowing confidence. But at the same time, he remains humble, committing to each performance as if he were still a rookie seeking to prove himself.

Part of me wishes their set had gone on longer.

Because their set was more like a headlining performance than the actual headliners were. And that is saying something. Believe me. Because the actual headliners were none other than DPR Live and Zico. Though, from a studio album perspective, both Ash Island and Changmo pale in comparison. In fact, I would even go so far as to say that they are entirely different leagues. Especially where DPR is concerned. An independent production company, DPR is known for their cinematic music videos and atmospheric tracks. Which do not exactly translate to a stage as large as the one at Seoul Land. While for Zico, the issue was less his style of music as his choice of songs, because Zico is one of those artists that is talented enough to challenge a variety of genres. He does not need to limit himself, but it is a double edged sword, because not all songs make the same impact, and at 9 o’clock on a Saturday night, after an entire day filled with music all you want is that song that will take your breath away, or make you go hoarse from screaming applause. You want that song that will make you stop where you are and say ‘wow’

I was not wowed.

I was happy, for sure. He is an incredible artist, and he performed incredibly. But it did not exceed my expectations, or leave a lasting impression. But I’ll tell you what did:

Sam Kim’s guitar playing. Ash island’s playful banter. Penomeco and Coogie’s energy. Those artists that performed when the sun still shone, as if it were their own personal spotlight. The ones that came to the stage and killed themselves on it, not caring how many people did or didn’t scream their name.

 

 

How Big is South Korea?

October 1, 2019 — Leave a comment

So my friend and I got to talking the other day about the size of South Korea in relation to our respective countries, I being from Canada, and her America. And according to some googling and some even quicker calculations, Canada is 100x larger than South Korean, while the province of Ontario is 10x larger. Hence why, in Korea, after riding a bus for four hours you could be in a completely different province, while in Canada you could still be stuck somewhere on the 401.