A bit of random weirdness...

Every day on my way to work, I pass a lifeless but smiling lego jedi that is trying (unsuccessfully) to direct traffic. Every day I chuckle inwardly (and sometimes outwardly) at the concept of using a life-size version of an inanimate children’s toy to fulfill the duties of a traffic cop. Today, for the first time since being here, I did not chuckle. I’ve been in South Korea for almost a month now. What this means is that the things that initially struck me as hilarious, bizarre, or hilariously bizarre, are now beginning to feel normal. I don’t really want this to happen; I want to feel permanently amused, and I don’t ever want the reverse swastikas [which are a Buddhist symbol that (I presume) is unconnected to Nazi Germany] to seem “normal.” But alas, I am no longer fazed when the complimentary snack that the bartender places in front of me looks strikingly similar to minnows that accidentally became shriveled and dried in the mid-afternoon sun. So before I become entirely too comfortable munching on something with its head still intact, I should probably mention a few other Korean oddities that might eventually become mundane a few months hence:

1. Bus Salesmen – Occasionally while on the bus or the subway, a salesman will hop on and try to sell people a product that is typically related to the prolongment of one’s own life. In and of itself, this is not terribly unusual, as pesky salesmen throughout the world are consistently trying to sell various products in places where there are mass concentrations of people who have no choice but to remain in the proximity of said salesmen or throw themselves out the window. What is unusual, however, is that the salesmen here appear to not be considered “pesky” by the general populace. If you go almost anywhere else in the world, nobody is going to buy something from a quack on the subway, even if the product he happens to be selling is something which you genuinely wish to buy. This is why I was rather stunned when I witnessed one such quack get on a bus, give a presentation that people actually listened to, and rake in the cash for a product that I don’t even think my mother (QVC’s most important customer who has, at various times, purchased a quesadilla maker, a “perfect pancake” pan, and a taco warming station in the design of a miniature food cart) would have purchased. Basically, he was selling patches that had the appearance and texture of sandpaper, which were cloaked in the scent of ginseng (definitely an acquired scent, and an even more acquired taste). By placing the patches on your skin, your body will allegedly be rid of toxins. Unless I completely missed something, that is the miracle which this ginseng sandpaper promised to perform. I may have miscounted, but I’m fairly certain that the only people who didn’t buy the product were the six ungrateful Caucasians in the back of the bus. I have three potential theories to explain this unusual occurrence. 1. Koreans are profoundly gullible. 2. Ginseng sandpaper is a hot commodity that Westerners simply cannot comprehend. 3. There is some sort of cultural obligation to support local bus salesmen in a way that there is a cultural obligation to support local businessmen back home. Mark my words: I will crack this mystery before I return to America…

2. Adult Jungle Gyms – Playgrounds for children exist in relative abundance in Korea. But strangely (or perhaps predictably), playgrounds for adults exist in almost equal numbers. On one of my first days here, I got lost, wandered around aimlessly, and stumbled upon a woman who appeared to be using a Gazelle at the edge of the sidewalk while looking at the beautiful scenery of traffic. I presumed at the time that I had hit upon gold and that this would be the exclusive place in Korea that I could go to see public outdoor gym equipment. Of course, this was only the beginning. I soon discovered that you will not only find a random machine in isolation at the edge of the road, but you will also occasionally discover an entire fitness club in the center of a public park. Upon first glance, the brightly colored, deadbolted equipment looks like any other playground. But upon closer inspection, it becomes obvious that these non-electric Nordic Tracks, Gazelles, and elliptical trainers are intended to appeal to the audience of adults. And if wear and tear is a suitable indicator, they do appeal to adults. Or perhaps the wear and tear is just the result of natural erosion…

3. Couples’ Outfits – In America, many a joke has been cracked about couples who have been together for so long that they begin to take on each other’s physical characteristics. Their haircuts, their glasses, and their outfits have been expertly choreographed to symbolically announce to the world that they would prefer to sacrifice their individuality for the endless benefits that come along with coordinating wardrobes. After all, nothing says “we are one soul” like a matching sweater vest. But in Korea, the concept of wearing matching outfits is no laughing matter. When couples here consciously decide to dress identically, the gesture isn’t meant to be taken as a sarcastic practical joke. It’s as serious as global warming (which, depending on who you are, may be interpreted to mean that it is either (a) profoundly serious, or (b) the biggest practical joke to ever be played on humanity…aren’t similes fun?) In any event, I couldn’t help but stare in awe and wonder when, a few weeks ago while shoving my 17th consecutive piece of low-grade conveyor belt sushi down my throat, I witnessed the notion of couples’ outfits being taken to an all too literal level. Generally, when I think of couples who dress alike, I think of a couple who is perhaps wearing blue jeans, a similarly styled sweater, and a coat and shoes in the same color. But in Korea, couples’ outfits are as indistinguishable as Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. In fact, they are packaged and sold this way in clothing stores. They even package lingerie this way. The woman mannequin will be wearing a silky black number with tiny pink hearts, and her mannequin boyfriend will be proudly donning boxers in an identical fabric and pattern next to her. But I never saw a couples’ outfit on actual humans until I saw a couple leaving the sushi restaurant, hands in each other’s back blue jean pocket on which there appeared to be sewn a navy blue butterfly. A somewhat sheer white shirt hung just below the belt, and a black puffy coat ended just above the belt, leaving a one inch strip of white fabric hanging out in a consciously disheveled fashion. Their shoes may or may not have differed in style, but both were black, and I can only assume that if I would have gotten a good look at them from the front, each would be sporting a pair of thick-framed black glasses. There is no doubt in my mind that undergarments of black silk and pink hearts completed the final layer of textile synchronization…