I'm guessing some of you were kids before. You know what, I'd even bet money almost half of you were children at one point.

This means you remember "Choose Your Own Story" books. Well this is a "Choose Your Own Story" blog. I'm going to describe three animal related experiences I've had in Korea, and you can pick which one (if any) to read. Some of this could be offensive, so to avoid reading something you don't want to please follow the directions.

                                I love dogs                   I am a member of PETA            I am related to you                I am illiterate

I love dogs. In fact I will never read this story because I'll skip it based on my own instructions. But sometimes things get weird here, and one can find themselves in unique situations.  

By mid-March I was showing all the signs of an immune system disorder. For about 8-10 days I was feeling turrible, just turrible (try to read this sentence as Charles Barkley). Violent coughing, a lack of appetite, and a freezing apartment had created nightly episodes of insomnia. To further complicate things, as the new teacher I was forced to drink many times a week by school staff.

Needless to say, these issues were affecting my performance in the classroom, and when I started to lose hearing in my left ear a fellow teacher took me to the hospital.
 
A series of x-rays and other tests ensued. I really believe someone could make money selling heavy blankets that feel like x-ray pads. They are so comfortable.

After the tests, my doctor looked at charts and film for about 5 silent minutes. Knowing few English words, he just turned to me and said: "Diagnosis pneumonia." The Doctor's delivery was memorable. He spun around in his chair and smiled while he gave me the news, without fully slowing down. He kind of just did a 360 and said "pneumonia" halfway through.

Over the next five weeks, I would frequently visit the hospital and a number of specialty clinics, sometimes driving two hours each way. I felt awful about burdening my mentor teacher, "Kyu." who was obligated to drive me around after long hours at work. He was sick himself, new at the school, and amidst the nightmarish process of moving apartments.

The least I could do was offer to buy him dinner, so I did, and after one visit he finally accepted. We consumed some sort of fish stew in a port town called Jukbyeon.

Kyu struck me as very traditional in terms of cuisine preferences, and my suspicion was confirmed on the ride home. He spoke of his boyhood river outings where he would catch fish and bite into them raw. He also mentioned catching snakes and rodents, which can be conveniently thrown over a fire for a quick meal.

After thanking me an unnecessary amount, Q insisted that next time we go out it's his treat. He explained that we would get a very healthy food. One that is "good for stamina". I thought we were going to Hungry Bears, but they don't serve dog at Hungry Bears.

So, we unofficially agreed to eat "boshintang" (dog soup) together at some point in the future. I didn't know when this future outing would be, but accepted hesitantly.

In Korean culture it is very impolite to turn down an offer, especially one from my most direct relationship at school. Above all cultural reasons for accepting, I genuinely have a great time with Kyu and I'd be lying to say I wasn't slightly intrigued by the proposition.

After school one day, Kyu asked me to go for a short hike. The hike was supposed to be 40 minutes. This made me wonder why he had packed a large bag, a number of towels, a flashlight, change of shoes, and some tools. At this point I realized Kyu was about to kill me.

I was wrong, Koreans just go all out with their hobbies. After an enjoyable hike, Kyu informed me that we we're going to find a boshintang restaurant for dinner.

His restaurant of choice was stereotypical by Korean standards, with the exception of the items on the menu. In terms of flavor and consistency, I would compare the boshintang meat to a London broil, although there were certain suspect pieces I opted not to try.

The most bizarre day of eating in my life continued when I met a friend later that night. He was at a pig intestines restaurant down the street. I had no intentions of eating a second dinner, but was force fed upon arrival. There were also spicy chicken feet on the table, and a two year old bottle of Cambodian liquor filled with snakes and scorpions.

I don't really consider myself a particularly adventurous eater, but just try to adopt a certain mindset when confronting foods deemed strange by western standards.

We destroy hamburgers in the states while someone in India might stop to worship a cow they see on the streets, so it really has to be all about the mental approach. What one culture sees as sacred the other sees as dinner.

Eating dog in Korea is somewhat of a waning tradition, and most members of the younger generation tend to veer away from such practices. Due to the stigma surrounding the tradition our meal was rather secretive, which is why it's now on a blog. It's cool though only four people read this.

They don't exactly swoop pets out of homes here and use them for meals. A specific type of dog is bred for boshintang. I don't know the name of this type of dog, what they look like, or where to find them, and I'm alright with that.

I've also heard rumors about the way the dogs are treated during the process, which there is no reason to describe in detail. Sushi chefs execute fish as gently as possible to prevent toxins from entering the meat, and let's just say boshintang chefs don't share this philosophy. On that matter, I hope they are just rumors. And on a true and hopefully unrelated note, the barking that's been keeping me up at night has stopped.

In mid-April, I traveled to Daegu for a TaLK program rendezvous. After transferring to a city bus, I found myself seated next to a woman with about 80 years of Earth experience. She smiled at me, then gave me a box.

This made me uncomfortable. Not because I don't like presents, I do. More so because after she gave me the box, she stared at it for about 45 seconds. It was like she wanted it back. I tried moving it around as a test, but her pupils followed the box. Not completely sure if this box was mine, I opened it to find a dish towel. 

Heavily in uncomfortable mode and feeling the need to do something, I rubbed the towel all over my face and body. This was perfectly synchronized with new passengers boarding the bus, so by the end of the process there was a small crowd watching me give myself a sponge bath in downtown Daegu.

The remainder of my evening was uneventful, except I may have worn an aloe vera face mask to sleep? I'm not sure. The next day, thankfully, was more eventful.

A number of friends and strangers converged on Cheongdo, a town outside of Daegu. Cheongdo is famous for hosting an annual bull fighting festival, and boasting tunnels of wine.

Observing bull fights was an entertaining experience, though most bouts themselves were rather tame. No blood was shed and it looks more like Sumo wrestling than anything else.

Occasionally one bull would completely lift another up with it's horns. I asked a friend why this didn't draw blood. He explained, "I don't know I think their skin is like, leather, or something."


Many fights took place throughout the day based on weight class, and patrons were given the opportunity to place bets on their favorite bull. They won't let you bet on Scottie Pippen so I refrained from gambling. 

The vast amount of foreigners at this festival was blatantly noticeable. I get a kick out of the foreigner head nod. No one knows each other but they still feel the need to gesture "hey what's up I'm not from here either." 

As the fighting became monotonous, our small group of fellow teachers ventured off to the wine tunnels of Cheongdo. Local persimmon stands surrounded the entrance, while wine vendors lined the once active railroad tunnel for over a quarter mile. It was a welcomed escape from the day-long downpour that follows Matthew Lentini around Korea.

That evening a meeting had been arranged for fellow provincial teachers in downtown Daegu. The reunion of sorts enabled everyone to share the many different experiences teachers we're having since leaving English camp.

After dinner we ended up at an ornately decorated hookah bar. Like Seoul, the metro system in Daegu doesn't run during the prime hours of the night, forcing you to make a commitment to head home early or stay out all night. We opted for the latter, and spent the next 5 hours or so relaxing in the unique but smoky atmosphere.

I don't think hookah bars are designed for such long term visits. Those who stayed experienced the equivalent smoke inhalation of surviving a small house fire, or hanging out with Andrew Mattey. It's hard not to have a good night out in the nooks and crannies of Korea's bigger cities, the only negative implication is the irregular sleep schedule that follows.

See, the stories are getting happier. That one was PG at worst.

I frequented a pet store in college that was quite unusual. For one, the owner would sometimes make animal noises when you entered or left. More importantly, there were no individual cells for the cats or dogs. Instead, just a puppy room and a kitten room. It was heaven. You could just lay down and have 10 puppies attack you with cuteness.

At one point I was going every week for obvious reasons, and dreamed of finding a bar or business somewhere in the world where you could purchase a beverage then go hang out with cool dogs.

These dreams recently came true during a trip to Seoul.

Boarding another bus to Seoul with the ambition of meeting a couple good friends from Wisconsin felt like deja-vu, although this time I found myself with an old traveling companion who was teaching in Japan; and a globe-trotting musician named Breft Preston, currently residing in Saigon.

I guess people from Wisconsin move to Asia when they graduate college.

My only real goal from this trip was to find the dog cafe in Hongdae, and to pet multiple dogs there. They say pictures are worth like 12, alright I can't remember how that goes but here are some images to describe "The Bau House" better than I can. 

That last picture is interesting. I thought we were just petting the dogs but I mean, alright I'm in. The total bill was about 20,000 won. Our order consisted of two coffee drinks, one tea, and one bag of doggy treats. For Nathan.

I would keep ranting about animals, but I've just received more important news. It's been confirmed that Red Lobster is delicious. .

Cheddar rolls for life.

Donna Goserud is a saint. She has sworn twice in her life and only gets angry when there aren't enough rainbows. Sometimes I have to beg her to stop drawing unicorns at the dinner table. But beneath the Mother Theresa layer is a teacher very serious about her work, even when it's teaching me how to teach.

For me, the classroom remains simultaneously challenging and fulfilling. Ideas which are ideal in my head often fall apart, and a lesson made up on the spot can sometimes be the most effective tool of the day.

Fortunately Mrs. G. is available with words of wisdom, helping me improve as a teacher. Interacting with people who love their profession is refreshing, and one nice thing about this experience has been bouncing ideas off my mother, master of the classroom. Not many people get to understand what their parents "do," and I value being able to see my mom in her element. When I get home I'll take my Dad to Old Country Buffet so I can see him in his element too.

Even though I can't be present to say it in person, Happy Mother's day Donna. I appreciate everything you do. Man it's gonna be hard to type the rest of this while I'm crying. 

On the subject of family, l'd like to describe something that crosses my mind on a daily basis, something other than Fred Couples. They say there are 6 degrees of separation between people, or 6 degrees to Kevin Bacon. Korea, being relatively small geographically and relatively tight knit socially, has but 2 degrees of separation.

This means every stranger you pass on the streets here is theoretically two contacts, at most, away from the next. Three of my siblings are from South Korea, and if what they say is true then among the thousands of Koreans I've passed and scores I've met, surely someone has a connection to my family.

I could write a book about the Goseruds but I think two paragraphs will suffice, and to be quite honest I'm tired of using personal pronouns. So enough about me, let's talk about you. What's everyone's favorite color? Fine I'll just keep going then.

Going to Maehwa-ri, the village where my school is located, feels like traveling back in time. I haven't gone back in time yet so I can't really say that, but Maehwa's slow pace of life and relaxed atmosphere is reminiscent of a different era. 

Not all of Korea operates in this fashion. The country was transformed from post-war ruins to it's current state of rapid growth through the "bali-bali" mentality; a phrase which translates into "hurry hurry." Visiting bigger cities reminds me that the pace of Maehwa is an exception to an otherwise technology-driven, fast-paced Korea. But even in the tiny village of Maehwa, "bali-bali" undertones exist. Few words are exchanged among teachers at lunch for example, evidence that professional duties remain the priority. 

"Ri" means village, and in this village teachers and students freely roam school grounds. By American standards there is less supervision and more trust. Maybe things have changed since I was young, but the thought of an Elementary school being run like this in the states seems far fetched.

I prefer the laissez-faire style of my school, it appears to teach the kids to be people instead of over protected minions. I always thought it was a bit ridiculous that my senior year of high school I had to raise my hand to go to the bathroom, when weeks later I was expected to independently live at college. Kids live up to the responsibility levels expected of them. When you give them the chance many step up to the plate, many do. When you limit them, they tend to rebel.

Trekking to school each morning is like childhood revisited.  I still look forward to lunch more than anything else, I still can't pay attention, and I still get made fun of at recess.

Teachers seldom monitor recess here, and I was especially thankful for this one particular afternoon. While playing soccer with the older students, about 8 kindergarteners abducted me and I was forced to join their game of keep-away. Eventually I felt bad about keeping the ball away (I actually felt really good about myself), and therefore decided it was time to end the game.

You can't just end a game with 6 year-olds unless you want to be attacked by a mob of high voices, so I told them to run towards the swings while I punted the ball in a different direction. They listened, but I swear the moment the ball left my foot this one little girl took a 90-degree turn for no reason, in a direct path with my punt. She had her back turned to me and had no way of knowing where the ball was going. I don't know why she turned, there was nothing but sand there. She didn't need sand. It was like this girl was a migrant bird magnetically destined to get hit with a soccer ball.

I'm fairly certain real-life slow motion happened, and sure enough the ball came straight down on her head. I may or may not have laughed before running over to see if she was okay, fortunately it wasn't a very hard punt. 

She brushed it off to the laughter of many students, and one teacher. Hopefully she didn't understand English laughter? I don't know, but the girl ended up being fine and business as usual carried on inside the English room. 

Outside of the English room, I've been making an effort to become more involved with the school and recently had the opportunity to help out with "sports day" and "science day."

Sports day is an excuse to force all the kids to wear uniforms and watch them play games like "flick the high heel shoe. Science day is an excuse to shoot rockets in a northern direction. 

Two days before North Korea attempted to launch their failed rocket, we successfully launched 40 of our own in a northern direction during Operation Science Day. What we're just gonna let North Korea launch and not do anything about it? 

Alright so ours were water powered and created by students, but I still believe Maehwa will be a world superpower in the next 20 years. Based on the results, our 10 year-old engineers are superior to North Korea's.

The unlikely winner of the rocket launch was a 6th grader named "Levi," pictured to the right.

I'll try to describe Levi politely. This will be difficult.

At recess while the other students are playing, Levi walks around and collects dead birds with his bare hands. Sometimes I see him talking to them in attempts to nurse the birds back to health. It never works. They are dead. 

I let Levi take the lead during a game of Simon Says, and he told the whole class to "die" before trying to open a second story window to climb out. 

Sometimes when I'm giving out name-tags he crawls under his desk and tries to grab my leg while making troll sounds.

Clearly I expected Levi's rocket to explode shortly after take off.

Instead, while most students' rockets only managed to make it half way across the soccer field, Levi's not only cleared the entire field, it also threatened to maim someone in the village beyond school grounds.  It was an incredible spectacle to witness.

The Majority of students are like Levi, hilarious in their own way; and while the occasional misbehavior and frequent failed lesson plans are frustrating, by day's end you can't help but laugh at these kids. I mean laugh with them.

For example, one of my 5th graders saw this picture (left) in the English room and asked me if this was President Obama. I couldn't tell whether she was serious or messing with me, but was impressed either way by her international awareness. Many kids in Korea are very in tune with western culture and politics, even at relatively young ages.

The world is becoming more global, and English will be valuable as these children join society. I'm realizing that with limited teaching time, I could do more harm than good to these students without the proper outlook. I don't want to taint their potential for a lifelong interest in English with the overambitious pursuit of momentary success. I'd rather let learning become a byproduct of an introduction to the language and it's culture, while establishing a more permanent curiosity.

Staying organized and maintaining light classroom vibes has aided what I perceive as teaching progress. As a teacher, failure in some capacity occurs on a daily basis, and if you can't keep a sense of humor you are destined for misery. I try to keep this in mind as I constantly modify my classroom approach. 

And if all else fails, you can just make fun of the students until they cry.

With the exception of my teaching style, not too much has changed on the Uljin front.

The annual cherry blossoms have come and gone; a sign that summer is just around the corner. These trees are stunning, so fragile a single rainfall causes their flowers to collapse, and lasting but a week even in the absence of rain. I believe they exist on similar latitudes around the world, and I'll certainly miss the electrical-wire sound produced by blossom-feasting bees.

It's  also worth noting that China's annual gift to Korea, the "Yellow Dust," rolled through relatively unnoticed this year. Typically a cloud of smog from China somehow traverses the Yellow Sea, numerous mountain ranges, and an entire country to deliver a thick dust storm to Korea.

Otherwise the week days remain pleasantly monotonous, filled with plenty of school related activities. My perpetual quest to make life here more interesting has developed as follows.

• I've started to watch a comedy every morning as a personal mood experiment. It has positive effects. One day I was so filled with joy I had the urge to reverse pick-pocket strangers, and just put money in their pants.

• A South African named Nash tried to hypnotize me. It didn't completely work, but we will try again.

• I'm trying to find a rock-paper-scissors opponent. The loser will spend 24 hours in Uljin's only 24 hour restaurant.

Things have been pretty alright here in Korea, but there has been just one thing that's been driving me crazy. Wait, maybe you can help: